People Who Walk In Darkness

“No,” corrected Sasha. “We have nine days, but you have only a few minutes. You need to drink your coffee, maybe have something to eat, use the toilet, and you also need another clump on the head.”

Georgi didn’t have time to protect himself. Sasha’s knuckles came down on the same spot where the gun had raised a throbbing welt.

“Sasha,” Elena warned as Georgi screamed.

The man behind the bar watched with interest but no sympathy.

“You are boring me,” Sasha whispered.

“My head,” cried Georgi. “Brain damage. You’re giving me brain damage. A doctor.”

“You don’t use your brain anyway,” said Sasha. “If you did, you’d be helping us find out who killed your girlfriend.”

“I just wanted to make a few rubles,” said Georgi. “Is that so bad?”

The question was addressed to Elena.

“Just tell us everything,” she said.

Georgi tried drinking the dark liquid.

“This is terrible. Can I get. .”

“Talk,” Sasha warned. “I’m not only bored and impatient, I’m in a hurry. Maybe you’re like one of those butchka toys. You tap it and it runs in circles.”

To Georgi, the good-looking policeman definitely looked insane. The plump pretty policewoman looked sane, but it was unlikely she would intervene.

“My luck,” sighed Georgi. “The first chance I get to make real kapusta, money, and this happens.”

“Christiana Verovona’s luck was worse.”

Georgi shrugged and brushed back his dirty straight hair.

“I should have kept the diamonds,” he said. “Run with them, but where do you sell diamonds?”

“I don’t know,” said Sasha.

“You see?” said Georgi. “You see? And one of those blacks looked even crazier than. .”

He stopped and looked nowhere.

“Talk now,” said Sasha, placing the gun he had taken from Georgi on the table.

“They gave me the diamonds in a briefcase,” Georgi said, “told me not to open it, not to take a single diamond. They said I was to take the train to Kiev, go into the lobby of the station, stand by some palm trees there, and give the briefcase to a woman, who would give me an identical briefcase.”

“But you sent Christiana,” said Elena. “Why?”

“He was afraid,” said Sasha.

Georgi gave a shrug that said what’s-the-difference-now.

“The woman in Kiev?” asked Elena.

“They told me she would be white, young, very beautiful. They said I would probably recognize her.”

“You would recognize her?” asked Sasha.

“Yes. He said she’s a model. Television ad. He mentioned a television ad for soap. Clover Soap I think. No, something else.”

“After you made the exchange with this woman, then what?” asked Elena.

“I was to get back on the train to Moscow. There would be just enough time. They gave me a ticket to a compartment. They said when I delivered the briefcase with the money, I would be given a very generous amount of it.”

“You believed them?” asked Elena.

Georgi tried to laugh. It came out as a throaty gargle.

“We were to make the exchange at four o’clock today in front of the toy store across from Lubyanka Prison.”

“Your idea?” asked Sasha.

“Yes. They would not do anything to me there, and I planned to take whatever money they gave me and go immediately to Odessa in case they were planning to kill me. They said they would use me again if all went well, and I told them that would be fine, but I did not believe them for a second. Georgi Danielovich is no fool.”

Both detectives thought quite the opposite.

“Do you have some way of reaching them?” asked Elena.

“No. Lubyanka. Four o’clock.”

“And you were planning to go there and try to explain?”

“I do not know. They would not believe me. And I have no money to run. I do not even have a gun anymore, to rob a drug dealer with.”

“We feel for your plight,” said Sasha. “You will be in front of the toy store at four today with a briefcase that you will be given. We will all go buy it. When the Africans come to make the exchange, we will arrest them and you can walk away. You might try walking to Odessa. The weather should be good this time of year.”

“You will let me go?” he asked, looking at them both.

“You are paperwork, and a very bad odor,” said Sasha.

Chapter Seven

It was a warm night in Moscow, more than forty years ago. A warm night. The policeman, burly and resigned, sat on a rock tented by two slabs of concrete which might well have given way to crush him. Unfortunately, this was the only reasonable cover while he watched the truck.

The building was going up slowly, typical of projects in the Soviet Union, where no incentive existed for workers to put in a full day of hard work. Appeals to the abstract love of a nation that needed more buildings were to no avail. The workers did not define themselves as Soviets. They considered themselves Russians, Georgians, Chechens, Lithuanians, or whatever.

And so they had no reservations about stealing from the State as the State had no reservations about taking from them. At least, that was the way most of them thought. It was something the policeman understood.

An inventory by the project director and the Communist Party representative at the site had revealed a serious loss of valued equipment and wiring. The conclusion was theft by employees. The solution was the placement of a policeman in the shadows.

And so he sat as he had for the past two nights, a cheese sandwich in his pocket, his holstered gun resting familiarly against his right thigh, the flashlight on his belt pressing against his left leg.

He was hungry. He slowly, quietly unwrapped his sandwich and took a large, satisfying bite.

And then he heard them coming.

He did not know what time it was, could not read the face of his watch in the darkness, but it was definitely past midnight.

They came, three of them, whispering, climbing on the rear of the truck, opening it with a key, their shoes producing a metallic echo as the door swung open. Two of the men stepped into the truck. The third remained on the ground to receive the equipment handed to him. It looked as if they had planned to take no more than they could carry.

The policeman set aside his sandwich and slowly eased his way out of the concrete tent.

The man on the ground was leaning over to place a metal box near his feet when the policeman approached.

As the man got up to receive something else from the two in the truck, the policeman stepped to the rear of the truck, slammed the door closed, and threw the bolt to lock them in.

The thief on the outside took it all in and began to run. He was much younger than the policeman, and much lighter. He would have gotten away had he not tripped on a coil of wire he had taken from the truck.

The policeman had his gun out and pointed at the man on the ground, who realized that it was all over. The two in the truck obviously realized the same thing. They were making no noise, not crying to be let out. They sat