when he returned from his meeting with Shatalov and Chenko.
He sat behind his desk, put his hands flat in front of him, and looked at the thin woman attentively. That she was furious was obvious. Sasha’s mother did not hide her opinions or feelings. And her primary feelings were reserved for her only son.
“Elena Timofeyeva was attacked by a wild tiger,” she said.
“A tiger?” asked Rostnikov. “Contrary to rumors you may have heard, I can assure you, Lydia, that there are no packs of wild tigers roaming the streets of Moscow. There are animals far more dangerous, but not tigers. It was a dog.”
“Anna Timofeyeva said it was a tiger.”
Rostnikov seriously doubted this, since Lydia was shouting and not wearing her hearing aid. Actually, she almost never wore the hearing aid, which made conversation with her very public.
“A dog,” said Rostnikov.
“Then a dog,” Lydia conceded with exasperation. “Anna Timofeyeva says she will probably die.”
“Elena Timofeyeva is probably home by now,” said Rostnikov, trying hard to keep from looking at his watch. “She has some injuries but she is fine.”
“We shall see,” said Lydia with suspicion. “She was working with my Sasha, wasn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Then he may be attacked by some animal, may be killed,” she said, challenging the chief inspector.
Sasha was certainly in danger from animals with guns, but a second dog attack was unlikely.
“I think he is in relatively little danger,” Rostnikov said, reaching under the desk to try to adjust his leg through the trousers of Leon’s dead father-in-law.
“Relatively?” Lydia shouted. “Relatively? There shouldn’t be any
“He is a police officer,” said Rostnikov patiently. “There is always some danger when one is a police officer.”
“Not if one sits behind a desk,” Lydia said, leaning forward with a cunning smile.
“He does not want to sit behind a desk. I don’t know if I could get him moved behind a desk even if he wanted to. We have had this conversation many times, Lydia Tkach.”
“And we will have it many more times till you do something to protect my Sasha.”
There was a knock at the door of his office. Rostnikov called,
“Come in.”
Pankov entered with a very false smile and a steaming mug.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you might like some tea.”
“That would be nice,” said Rostnikov.
“Can I bring some for the lady?” Pankov asked, placing the tea before Rostnikov.
“What?” said Lydia, looking at the little man as if he was an intrusive insect.
“Tea,” Rostnikov said loudly.
“No.”
“This is Sasha Tkach’s mother. This is Pankov, the director’s secretary,” said Rostnikov.
The tea was hot and sweet, a strong tea. It was clear that Pankov wanted something. This was the first time the little man had been in his office, and Porfiry Petrovich was confident that Pankov had never been in the room across the hall with its cubicles for the other inspectors.
“I would like to speak to you, Chief Inspector,” Pankov said, trying to smile apologetically.
“I’ll come down to your office when we are finished.”
“No,” Pankov shouted loud enough for Lydia to hear him clearly and look up at him. “No. I will come back. Don’t come to my office.”
Pankov left quickly.
“Strange man,” said Lydia, looking at the door. “He could have offered me some tea.”
“He did,” said Rostnikov, but her back was turned and she clearly did not hear him.
Then she turned.
“I cannot tell Sasha Tkach what to do,” said Rostnikov, wrapping his thick fingers around the hot mug. Thunder grumbled somewhere far away. “He is a grown man.”
“He has a wife, two children, a mother,” said Lydia.
“I do not have time for this conversation which, as we have agreed, we have had many times before,” said Rostnikov.
“And you always sit there like a. . a. . Buddha, a sphinx, a clerk at the postal office.”
“I have an only son, too,” said Rostnikov. “He is a policeman. It was his choice.”
“And you were happy with his choice?” Lydia said with most un-subtle sarcasm.
“Yes,” said Rostnikov. “And no.”
“If Sasha is hurt, I will hold you responsible,” she said, pointing a thin finger across the desk.
“I will probably do the same, Lydia Tkach,” he said. “But that does not alter the fact that I cannot force Sasha to take a job in the office.”
“You mean you
“Perhaps.”
Lydia rose suddenly, lifting her Saks Fifth Avenue shopping bag filled with vegetables, a few pieces of fruit, some cans of Hungarian soup, and two new pairs of socks.
“Sasha has not been himself,” she said, changing her tone from aggression to a deep, solemn concern.
“I have noticed, Lydia.”
“He has been sullen, depressed. I think, and I don’t want this to go beyond this room, that he has. . that he has been with women other than Maya. He is his father’s son.”
“So are we all, Lydia.”
“I think Maya is planning to take the children and leave my Sasha,” she said. “Take them back to the Ukraine. I know she is. I won’t see them. If Sasha. .”
“You want me to talk to Maya?” he asked.
“Could it hurt?”
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“Then talk to her, Porfiry Petrovich. Talk to her soon.”
“I will,” he said.
Lydia pulled herself together, stood tall, and said, “I have money, Porfiry Petrovich. I could buy my son a shop or help him get started in a business.”
“I know,” said Rostnikov. “You want me to talk to Sasha too?”
“Yes,” she said.
He nodded to indicate that he would do so. Lydia left.
Rostnikov raised the mug of still-very-hot tea to his lips. A knock at the door and Pankov entered before Rostnikov could tell him to come in.
Pankov closed the door, smiled at Rostnikov, and quickly sat in the chair that Lydia had just vacated.
“Director Yaklovev had to go to a meeting at the ministry,”
Pankov said.
“That’s nice,” said Rostnikov. “That is what you wanted to discuss?”
“No,” Pankov said nervously. “We have known each other for many years.”
“About eight,” said Rostnikov. “The tea is good.”
“Thank you,” said Pankov with a smile that suggested a man in desperate need of root-canal surgery.
The little man shifted in the chair uncomfortably and looked at the closed door as if he feared the sudden entrance of uniformed, helmeted, and armed men.
“Pankov, can I help you with something?”
The little man turned back to face Porfiry Petrovich. The office was warm but not warm enough to account for Pankov’s perspira-tion. Then again, Pankov perspired very easily.
“Can you recall ever having said anything in my office or, more important, my saying anything to you in my office that would, might be considered. . indiscreet?”
