“How is that possible?”
“It’s all in the notebook. All I know is that we don’t have a government anymore, just thieves.”
“Is that what you’re writing about? The
“No, this is not the same. The
“Maybe the submarine’s problems can be reengineered or remedied, at least?”
“Maybe. My experience is that it’s easier to put reporters into the ground. The interpreter Joseph knew and he’s dead.”
“Who knew about your connection to Joseph?”
“No one aside from my editor.”
Arkady’s impression of Sergei Obolensky was that he was a gossip, but no one needed to have talked. The interpreter Joseph Bonnafos had served his purpose. Once the meeting was over, he was a loose string fated to be clipped.
She said, “You’re playing investigator again.”
“I make a stab at it from time to time.”
“What does it matter? You have no authority here.”
“I have no authority anywhere, but I like to understand things.”
“That sounds like a perverse pleasure.”
“I’m afraid so. What do you know about Grisha?”
“Personally? He was rich, he was feared and he had fun. A full life, you could say.”
“As a businessman?”
“A businessman, public benefactor and Mafia boss.”
“In both Kaliningrad and Moscow.”
“Well, he was a man of ambition. A leader.”
“And how would you describe Alexi?”
“Crazy.”
The word had a razor’s edge.
“You’ll stay away from him, won’t you?” Arkady said.
“He killed my sister.”
“I think so too, but don’t dismiss Ape Beledon or the rest of Grisha’s pallbearers. They are all capable of killing anyone who gets in their way. For them it’s like swatting a fly.”
“You can be a monster,” Tatiana said evenly.
“From a line of monsters.” He handed back the tape recorder. As Tatiana reached for it, her backpack tipped over and a pistol spilled out. It was a small pistol, the sort of firearm that women carried more for reassurance than protection. “So you did bring a gun.” He picked it up and let a loaded magazine spring out of the grip. “Very well. There’s one thing worse than carrying a gun, and that’s carrying an empty gun, but you would have to get close to do any damage with this.”
“I just want to hear Alexi confess to murdering Ludmila.”
“And if he does?”
“I’ll shoot him. I’ll write my final chapter from the grave and then I’ll happily disappear.”
Arkady thought of Tatiana’s father, a man who didn’t want to know too much. He looked out at a band of darkening clouds that stretched across the horizon and seemed to suck up the sea.
• • •
On the computer, Zhenya found images of the yacht
Lotte asked, “Why would criminals from Moscow meet in Kaliningrad? Why sneak into there?”
Victor said, “You can’t sneak through Kaliningrad airport. It’s too small. Besides, part of the roof might fall on your head.”
Zhenya called Kaliningrad airport security and was given the stiff-arm.
Victor took over. “You stinking pile of shit, who are you to ask questions of the Moscow police? You’re going to cooperate or I will pull your entrails out your asshole. Understood?”
The operator’s attitude improved. There was heavier-than-usual traffic of private or chartered planes moving in or out, he said. “You should have been here a couple of hours ago. We had that rap artist Abdul arrive. The Chechen? We took measures. A private plane and a car waiting out on the tarmac. Didn’t help. Once the women spotted him they were hysterical. They had him sign everything, and I mean everything. Could you live like that?”
“Was he with anyone?”
“No entourage. A couple of businessmen. I was a little disappointed by that. I expected a supermodel or two.”
“When is Abdul scheduled to leave Kaliningrad?”
“In his private plane? He’s a billionaire. He can leave any time he wants.”
“Wait, I have some other names for you. Call me if any of them arrive or go.” Victor gave the operator the names and his cell phone number before disconnecting.
“So maybe the second meeting didn’t take place already. But why else would Abdul be in Kaliningrad?” Zhenya said.
Lotte asked, “What about the bullet in Arkady’s head?”
Conversation ceased.
She said, “Zhenya told me a doctor warned Arkady a bullet in his brain could move a millimeter either way and he’d drop dead. He isn’t supposed to do anything strenuous. Shouldn’t he be quiet and stay at home? You’re his friend-is he suicidal?”
Victor considered the point. “No, but he isn’t a ray of sunshine.”
• • •
Tatiana had brought a change of clothing and a stack of papers in her backpack. By lamplight, Arkady flipped through papers of incorporation for Curonian Investments, the Curonian Bank, Curonian Renaissance, Curonian Investment Fund, all of them subsidiaries of Curonian Amber. Altogether, pretty serious work for a spit of sand, he thought.
“Everything refers to Curonian Amber but I didn’t see much activity at the amber pit.”
“High-pressure hosing is dirty but excellent for laundering money.”
“So everything here is owned by a virtually nonexistent amber mine. Except, the way they use it, it’s a gold mine.”
“It was Grisha’s invention,” Tatiana said. “I still haven’t figured it out. Everybody has a grand dream. Every criminal wants to drive a BMW and every politician needs to live in a palace. Only our sailors are willing to accept a modest burial at sea.”
“The moment you started gathering these papers, you targeted yourself.”
“But I don’t have the hard facts or names, which is maddening.”
The beam of a spotlight swept across the screen of the cabin porch.
“Get down,” Arkady said.
A speedboat headed in, trying not to get broadsided in the surf.
“Is this Maxim?” Tatiana asked. “He should know better.”
“It’s not Maxim.”
Arkady made out Alexi at the wheel of a sleek wooden runabout, a classic emblem of motorboat bravado and the worst possible choice for landing on a beach. He inched closer without swinging sideways and rolling but he should have come in an inflatable boat designed for landing in rough seas.
“Tatiana Petrovna! I want to talk to you! Come out and show yourself!” Alexi shouted.
“He’s stuck. He can’t come in any further,” Arkady said.
