service, tried, and found guilty. If you do not cooperate, you will spend the rest of your lives in prison.”
She looked up from her notes and tried not to look uncomfortable. Why had Rostnikov asked to see the photographs of the young men’s children? Elena knew enough of the system by now to know that each man would scramble within his own organization to make a deal or else they would both go to trial, insisting upon their innocence, and quite possibly get away with the crime. If, she thought, there was even a crime. As far as Elena was concerned, the treasures belonged to Natalya Dokorova.
“I would like to confer in private with Officer Terhekin,” said Orlov.
“Unfortunately,” said Rostnikov, “I have, as you may have noticed, a somewhat crippled leg that makes it difficult for me to move. If you would like to use the large closet in the corner or step across the room and whisper …”
“The closet,” said Orlov, rising.
Terhekin rose more slowly, and the two men went to the closet behind Colonel Snitkonoy’s ample desk. They closed the door.
“Well?” asked Rostnikov, standing and holding on to the back of his chair.
“Can you really offer them such a deal?” asked Hamilton.
“We can offer what we wish,” answered Rostnikov. “However, I have little to deal with in exchange for the trust of criminals. So my word is good. It is my hope that a sufficient number of criminals and those in criminal investigation know this. Tell me, have you ever eaten alligator?”
“Alligator?” asked Hamilton.
“Yes,” said Rostnikov.
“I have,” said Elena. “In Florida.”
“Did it taste like chicken? The Americans think everything tastes like chicken,” said Rostnikov. “Rattlesnakes, alligators, iguanas.”
“It tasted like fish,” she said.
Rostnikov nodded and said, “I would like to taste these things-rattlesnakes, alligators, lizards. Americans eat everything.”
“Not the heads of fish or the brains of lobsters,” said Hamilton.
“I personally do not care for the heads of fish,” said Rostnikov. “As for the brains of lobsters, I have never had the opportunity to try them.”
The closet door opened and the two young officers stepped out. Terhekin looked particularly pale. Orlov stood straight and determined. They took their seats, and Orlov spoke. “We have done nothing. We have nothing to say. We wish to speak to our superior officers.”
“Terhekin, you agree?” asked Rostnikov.
Terhekin, eyes moist, said,
“You will bear with me,” said Rostnikov. He opened a drawer in the desk in front of him. “I am not familiar with these new electronic devices.”
Rostnikov pushed a button, and the machine emitted a scream of piercing terror. Hamilton reached over, pushed a button to stop the machine, and asked, “Which number?”
“I believe it is number two,” said Rostnikov.
Hamilton’s dark fingers danced on the keys. There was a whirring sound and then the sound of faint voices. Hamilton turned up the volume, and the five people in the room listened.
Terhekin: They know everything.
Orlov: They know nothing.
Terhekin: What difference does it make? They need to blame this on someone. If the Washtub decides to blame us, then it is we who will take the blame. You heard him.
Orlov: Bluffing.
Terhekin: And if not, we go to prison. I’ve heard what happens to police officers who go to prison. And how do we know the old woman will give our shares to our wives?
Orlov: She must, or we will talk. She knows that. On your salary, are you living like a man? Feeding your family enough meat?
Terhekin (laughing bitterly): Meat?
Orlov: If we talk, we go to jail.
Terhekin: But the Washtub said …
Orlov: I do not believe him, and even if I believed him and we talked, it would be the end of our hopes for wealth. Every day we see men and women growing rich by extortion, murder, theft. This is a Russia of madness. You understand? (Pause) Good.
Everyone then heard the sound of a door opening and closing. Hamilton reached over to turn the machine off. Rostnikov nodded his thanks and pushed the drawer closed.
“Even the toilet stalls are wired,” said Rostnikov. “Voice activated. Colonel Snitkonoy wants a full and complete record of every word spoken in this office. The colonel”-here Rostnikov turned to Hamilton-“is a great admirer of your Richard Nixon, who did the same thing. Our colonel, however, is hopeful of better results and eventually a book he can sell to the French or the Americans.”
This was, in fact, the first Elena had heard of the hidden microphones. She began to go over in her mind all the conversations she had engaged in there. There were few, but was there anything compromising? A few weeks after she had joined the department, Major Gregorovich had strongly suggested that they work intimately together, but she had politely rejected him. Was there anything else?
“Gentlemen,” Rostnikov said. “Do we arrest you, call the procurator’s office, and wait for trial?”
Terhekin sat silent, looking at the floor. It was Orlov who spoke.
“We are each given commendations?”
“Lovely ones, complete with frames,” said Rostnikov. “Provided-”
“A percentage of what is recovered?” asked Orlov.
Hamilton coughed and succeeded in suppressing a laugh.
“I am afraid that is not within my power,” said Rostnikov. “It will have to be discussed with those above me.”
“Two trucks,” said Orlov. “The old woman made the arrangements. A garage near the Kazan church. That is all we know. You can raid all the garages near the Kazan church at the same time. We are the tax police; we do things like that all the time.”
“We are grateful for the expert advice,” said Rostnikov. “Inspector Timofeyeva, would you ask Natalya Dokorova to return.”
Elena hurried to the outer door, opened it, and asked the waiting old woman to return. When she entered the room, still clutching the flower, she glanced at the two young men, who were definitely not looking at her.
“Another chair, Inspector Timofeyeva,” said Rostnikov.
Elena brought another chair and placed it next to Orlov. The woman sat.
“I have nothing more to say,” she said.
“Agent Hamilton, would you like to take the next step?” Rostnikov asked, easing back into his chair.
Hamilton, hands folded, looked at each person across from him and in a soft, firm voice said, “Last night, Natalya Dokorova approached these two officers and asked them to conspire with her to steal her brother’s collection of antiques and treasures. Insisting that she had a full legal right to her brother’s possessions, Natalya Dokorova offered them a large sum of money, perhaps pending the sale of certain items. They talked, argued, and eventually agreed, allowing the old woman to go to a public telephone to make a call to someone with whom her brother had worked in the past. While they waited for the trucks, Natalya Dokorova, possibly with the aid of one of these two men, destroyed much of the old furniture in her house. The trucks eventually came, slowly and quietly. Sergeant Orlov went to the front of the building to be sure that the two men guarding the front door harbored no thoughts of returning the visit. This was reported by the two guards there. The loading was done quickly, perhaps carelessly but quietly. It was probably just before dawn when the trucks pulled away.”
“Natalya Dokorova,” Rostnikov said softly, his hands folded before him as well, “it is late. I am hungry. I want to see my wife and the two little girls we have taken in. Please give us the name and address of the garage, or I will have to be up all night raiding garages near the Kazan church.”
The old woman looked angrily at the two officers who had betrayed her. She looked at her flower and flung
