“You’re spinning this out of whole cloth.”
“There was a dog at the marina, a heroic pug named Polo. There aren’t that many pugs in Moscow.”
“Pure fantasy.”
“Did Alexi offer you money? What about the wonderful American fellowship and the fifty-thousand-dollar prize?”
Maxim was deflated. “It’s over. They chose someone else.”
Arkady gave the big man a push to get him moving.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to know what was in the notebook.”
“Why?”
“For Alexi.”
“Why help him?”
“I was afraid.”
Arkady wondered if that was the truth, half truth or poetic license.
• • •
Zhenya and Lotte didn’t know if the man that Alexi had stationed outside the apartment was big or short, dressed to the nines or covered in cigarette ash. They heard him shuffle back and forth like a bear in the zoo.
Zhenya had loaded Arkady’s pistol and tucked it into the back of his belt. Lotte had found skiing gear in a closet; she removed discs from the poles and had herself a pair of flimsy spears.
Meanwhile, Zhenya had found a theme.
“If you align them right, the waves are the ocean, the fish are ships or submarines and the star is Russian authority, most likely the navy.”
“Could be.”
“Since there is a dollar sign, RR could be Russian rubles, not railroad. In which case ‘two B’ wouldn’t be Shakespeare but two billion. Even in rubles that’s a lot of money. What do you think?”
“What does this have to do with Natalya Goncharova?”
“This is the cute part,” Zhenya said. “There’s no mention of where or when the meeting in the notebook took place. None. I think it might be Grisha’s yacht, the
“Does it matter? It’s in the past, isn’t it?”
“Not from the way Alexi acts. He acts like it’s a matter of life and death. He takes it personally.”
“Name something that isn’t,” Lotte said.
“Chess.”
“You’ve obviously never had a male opponent stare at your breasts for an entire game. Anyway, I hope this was in the past. What worries me is on the fifth page, a face with nothing but an ‘X’ for a mouth. That means nobody talks. I think that includes us.”
• • •
It wasn’t a matter of most trust as least distrust. Now that Alexi had tried to have him assassinated, Maxim seemed willing to cooperate. Until they came to the next bend in the road. Besides, where else would Arkady stay but Maxim’s apartment? Kaliningrad felt more and more an island, with hotels and terminals watched by the Mafia and police. And Arkady had not slept, it seemed, for days. He closed his eyes and dreamed that a bottle of vodka rolled back and forth beneath the couch, that a worm of lead ate into his brain, that a small monkey-faced dog licked his face until he woke to the sunrise chirps of sparrows and found Anya sitting opposite him in a chair.
She said, “You have a cut.”
Arkady touched his scalp.
“Ow.”
“Maybe next time, you’d like to try an ice pick.”
“Where’s Maxim?”
“He left to rent a car.”
“What are you doing here?”
“What a lovely welcome.”
Arkady ignored the cup of tea she offered him. Her face was scrubbed clean, although she still was dressed in the tight party gear of red sequins.
He asked, “Where is Alexi?”
“In Moscow, in Kaliningrad, I don’t know. He zips back and forth in Grisha’s company jet. At the moment, I think he’s hiding his face, but maybe you know that better than anyone. You’ve made a very bad enemy in Alexi.”
“I never found him charming. He brought you to Kaliningrad, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but now we’ve gone our separate ways.”
“Is this a recent tiff? You became tired of each other?”
“He dropped me.”
“You? That’s hard to believe. The two of you seemed to be getting on.”
“Arkady, you can be such a son of a bitch sometimes.”
“How is the research going for your article on Tatiana?” he asked.
“Moving ahead.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“And your investigation?” Anya asked.
“Coming along.”
“Yes, well, any time I see you with broken glass in your hair, I know your investigation is making progress.”
Arkady shifted and a stack of records slid off the end of the couch to the floor. He didn’t know what she was waiting for. For Alexi to return and sweep her off her feet again? Arkady realized that he had experienced one other dream, or not so much a dream as the memory of sharing his bed with Anya, of her sleeping in his shirt, of his breath caught in her hair. Strange to see that same woman through another man’s eyes. An eerie displacement.
“Have you heard from Zhenya?” Arkady asked.
“No. Sometimes he goes into hiding, like you.”
“You don’t happen to know if he still has the notebook?”
“Maybe. It’s useless.”
“Then why does Alexi want it?”
She shrugged.
Alexi probably dropped her when he discovered she no longer had the notebook, Arkady thought. Well, here she was, no worse for wear after her nights with the rich and dangerous.
Anya asked, “Are you going back to Moscow?”
“After I take care of some loose ends.”
“Such as?”
“Did Alexi ever have access to the keys for my apartment?”
“I never gave them to him.”
Arkady said, “That’s not what I asked. Was there ever a situation when he could have gotten into your handbag?”
“It’s possible. You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know who you are. Am I talking to you or am I talking to Alexi’s dancing partner?”
Arkady’s cell phone rang. It was Vova, the boy from the beach. Arkady listened for a minute before hanging up.
“I have to go.”
“No one is stopping you.”
“May I have the keys?”
“Certainly.” She dug into her handbag and slapped them into his hand.
“Thank you.” Arkady edged past her and headed for the door.
