Arkady said, 'Would you mind stepping out of the shadow?'
'You want to see me when I kill you?' Alex asked.
'If you don't mind.'
Alex moved forward into the silvery light.
Arkady waited and gave Alex no reason to turn. There was a moment's perplexity on Alex's face as he seemed to wonder why Arkady was such an easy victim.
Then Alex twitched. He was dead standing, he was dead dropping, he was dead sprawled on the ground, and Oksana's shot had not been much louder than the snap of a twig. As she stepped out from the crazy chairs, she freed her arm from a sling she'd used to steady her rifle, similar to the single-shot bolt-action rifles that Arkady had seen at the Katamay apartment in Slavutych.
'I'm so sorry. I left my rifle with my bike. I barely got back in time,' she said.
'But you did.'
'This beast killed my little brother.' She kicked Alex.
'He's dead.' Arkady tried to steer her away.
'He was the devil. I heard every word.' She got one good spit in before Arkady calmed her down and mopped up Alex's face. There wasn't a visible mark on him. His eyes were clear, his mouth set in a knowing smirk, his irises and muscle tone just starting to go slack. Arkady had to press his finger into Alex's ear to find the bullet's borehole and a dot of blood.
'Will they arrest me?' Oksana asked.
'Does anyone else know that you supply skins for your grandfather to mount?'
'No, he'd be embarrassed. You knew?'
'I assumed the skins were from Karel until I saw his condition. Then I knew they were from you.'
'Can they trace the bullet?'
'A sophisticated lab could, but there are a lot of swamps around here. Tell me about Hulak.' Arkady could barely stand, but he had a feeling that Oksana was a rarely seen moth, that he could talk to her now or never.
'He told my grandfather he was going to get your money and give you a taste of the cooling pond.'
'You waited in a boat?'
'I fish there sometimes.'
'And shot Hulak.'
'He had a gun.'
'You shot Hulak.'
'He was dragging my grandfather into things.'
'And you protect your family?'
Oksana frowned; her baldness exaggerated every expression. No, she didn't like that question. She made room for herself on the couch and rested Karel's head in her lap.
Arkady asked, 'Do you know how your brother got so sick?'
'A saltshaker. He told me he was adding cesium to a saltshaker when he dropped a grain. Maybe two. He wore gloves, and nothing should have happened, but later, he ate a sandwich and…' Her face twisted. 'Do you mind if I sit here for a while?'
'Please.'
'Karel and I used to sit like this a lot.'
She reached over her brother's shoulder to smooth the folds of his hockey shirt, place his hands together, primp his braids. Oksana became more and more absorbed, and gradually Arkady understood there were not going to be any more answers.
'I have to go,' Arkady said.
'Can I stay?'
'The city is yours.'
Arkady drove Alex's truck down the river road, down to the docks and the scuttled fleet, over the bridge and the hiss of the weir. His motorcycle was in the back of the truck. There was no other way to get there in time. For what, he didn't know, but he felt enormous urgency. Along the housing blocks, virtually empty, always virtually empty, and the twin track of a car path through a field of swaying ferns, to a garage half hidden by trees and a bank of lilacs.
He turned off the engine. The white truck seemed to fill the yard. The cabin was silent and had about it an air of darkness and grief. Wind softly heaved the trees, and the screen door slammed.
Eva was in her bathrobe, her eyes blurred, but she held her gun steadily with both hands. She stumbled across the ground in bare feet, but the sights stayed fixed on him. She said, 'I told you if you came back, I'd shoot you.'
'It's me.' He started to open the door and get out of the truck.
'Don't get out, Alex.' She kept moving forward.
'It's all right.' Arkady swung the door open and stepped down so she could see him more clearly. He was ashamed, but he wasn't going away. Besides, he was exhausted. This was as far as he could go. She stepped closer until she could not miss before she distinguished him apart from the truck. He knew he didn't look good. In fact, the way he looked would have scared most people off. She began to shake. She shook like a woman in icy water until he carried her inside.
18
Zurin was put out because Arkady wouldn't sit in the VIP lounge. The prosecutor had arranged admission, but Arkady refused to spend hours waiting for the plane to Moscow with nothing to entertain him but the sight of Zurin consuming single-malt whiskey. Zurin considered a little comfort in a plush setting his due, after coming all the way to Kiev to fetch his wayward investigator. However, Arkady had walked out and settled in an Irish pub exactly where the traffic flowed into the main hall.
He hadn't seen a child in over a month. Had seen hardly any clothes but camos. Had gone nowhere without being aware of the diamond-shaped scarecrows of Chernobyl. Here people bulled ahead, eyes on the linoleum as they dragged suitcases of monstrous proportions. Businessmen as weary and creased as their suits tapped on laptops. Couples heading south to Cyprus or Morocco wore extraordinary colors to signal a holiday frame of mind. Men stood transfixed before the flight board, and though morning sun poured through the glass front of the hall, Arkady could see from the way the men stared that for them the hour was the middle of the night. It was wonderful.
After the empty apartments of Pripyat, families seemed miraculous. A baby wailed and beat on the bar of its stroller. Another in diapers decided, for the first time, to walk. Twins with round heads and blank blue eyes strolled hand in hand. An Indian or Pakistani boy was carried in a quilt like a prince by his tiny mother. A veritable circus.
'Enjoying yourself?' Zurin inquired. 'You stall until I have to come get you myself, then you act as if you're still on vacation.'
'Was that a vacation?'
'It wasn't work. I ordered you back seven days ago.'
'I was under medical care.' Arkady had the bruise to prove it.
However, Zurin had ostensible grounds for complaint. True, the prosecutor had set up every obstacle to a successful investigation of Lev Timofeyev's murder, but the fact remained that Arkady had failed to find out who had cut Timofeyev's throat.
'You could have come back with Colonel Ozhogin.'
'We talked briefly. I had more questions about security at NoviRus, but he had to run.'
'Ozhogin proved a disappointment. Although no worse than you. Here, this came to the office yesterday.' Zurin flipped something at Arkady that hit him in the chest and dropped into his lap. 'What is that?'
