He did everything right there, right in front of them.
Once Raguel had his new papers, Ilana felt herself breathe a little easier.
He was now Pavel Gershovich, aged thirty-two, born in Moscow.
They would say Raguel was a nickname, if asked. Many Russians had nicknames.
Once they had the paperwork, she brought him here, to Petrovsky 38. Previously, she’d hoped papers would not matter if he was with her––especially if they kept their visit short––but with everything that had happened, she couldn’t risk it.
More importantly, he had an identity now, even if it still contained gaps. She had his papers reflect that he lived in the same apartment building as her, in a flat she knew to be vacant currently. It was an imperfect cover, but again, it was better than nothing, and would explain why he could be seen in her building if anyone asked.
As for Raguel himself, he seemed relatively indifferent to the details of his new persona.
He climbed out of the car once she’d parked it, slamming his door shut when Ilana did the same. He followed her silently as they walked towards the entrance to the station. She slipped a little on the icy walkway as they made their way towards the stairs leading up to the front door, and realized the temperature had dropped again.
She didn’t bother with more than a nod at the officer manning the front desk. She’d already decided the fewer people they interacted with the better, so she more or less walked right by him. She brought Raguel through a maze of corridors between smaller offices and file cabinets and desks, straight into the slightly larger office where she’d been earlier that day, watching the lead detective attempt to interrogate Golunsky.
She lucked out.
The operativnik, a man named Obnizov, was still inside.
Walking in, she had rehearsed nothing, but found herself taking the direct approach.
“I have a possible witness,” she said, speaking before the detective had even looked up. When Obnizov did glance up, startled, she continued speaking. “Yegor, we need to see him. Golunsky. Can you take us?”
The detective frowned, glancing at Raguel. He sized him up briefly in Uri’s clothes, which were well-made, if casual. Ilana’s father’s coat was even more expensive-looking, and fit Raguel surprisingly well. Appraisal over, Obnizov relaxed. He nodded, rising to his feet as he pulled a heavy, loaded keychain off his desk.
“I will sit in,” he said.
He didn’t phrase it as a question. Ilana only nodded, glancing at Raguel.
The detective walked towards and then past them, giving Raguel another once-over before looking at Ilana. He still spoke only to her.
“Where did you find him? The Square?”
Ilana nodded, not bothering to elaborate.
The detective grunted, still sorting through keys as he walked them down the lefthand corridor, heading in the opposite direction of the holding cells where Ilana first found Raguel. She knew Obnizov was bringing them to the smaller cluster of private holding cells housed in this part of the building. These particular cells were reserved for offenders in more serious crimes––or for crimes that were political or sensitive in some way.
Usually those residing in them only stayed there long enough for someone from the KGB or the military to arrive and collect them.
“Why did you not call me?” the detective said, giving her a slightly harder look. “Or am I no longer the deciding voice on this case?”
Reading the expression on his face, she sighed, letting her shoulders relax.
“I apologize, comrade,” she said. “It was an unexpected development. I got the call, since he is a Party-affiliate.” She motioned vaguely towards Raguel, again not elaborating more than absolutely necessary. “I brought him here as soon as I could. This is off the books for now. Truthfully, it is a long shot, but I told them I would run it down.”
The detective nodded. That harder look in his eyes faded slightly.
Ilana could tell her answer more or less satisfied him. He knew how things worked.
He still seemed to be strangely suspicious of her, however. It was that same, nagging feeling she’d gotten from him that morning, like he didn’t trust her. He hadn’t been so cold or so distant to her prior to their interview with Golunsky.
Frowning slightly, she watched as Obnizov unlocked a heavy, iron-plated door that led to the small holding area. He walked inside and Ilana followed. She glimpsed only two cells this time, instead of the row that lived at the lower levels on the other side of the building.
“Where is he?” she said at once, looking at the empty cells.
Obnizov came to a dead stop.
He did it so quickly that Ilana ran into him from behind. She pulled herself back, only to run into Raguel, who had been following closely behind them both. She’d only looked past Obnizov long enough to briefly scan the length of both cells a second time, when the detective let out an explosive string of expletives in Russian.
A harder edge of the remnants of his Georgian accent came out when he did.
“Where is he?” Obnizov turned, glaring at Ilana as if she had done this. “I don’t know. Where the chyort voz’mi is he, Party Comrade Kopovich? You ask me this? How would I know? I am only lowly militsiya, am I not?” When she blinked at him, startled, he scowled openly. “Did you know of this? Is this more Party bullshit, that they do not even tell me when a multiple homicide suspect is taken from my custody? Or are you behind this?”
Ilana stared at him, then back at the empty cell. “Me? Why would I be behind this?”
“You tell me, ‘Ilana,’” he said, his voice openly sarcastic. “Why would you be?”
The import of his words hit then, even as her stomach sank.
“He could not have been taken for processing of some kind here?” she said. “More interrogation?”
“No!” Obnizov snapped. “He could not! Not without my knowing! Are you serious right now?”
She shut her mouth with a snap, shaking her head before looking up at him.
“I do not think this is Party, comrade... nor KGB, not in the usual way. It is certainly not my doing. Whatever this is, it is not official, or they simply would have had me bring Golunsky to them this morning...” She glanced back at the empty cell. “This makes no sense.”
“You are telling the truth? You knew nothing of this?”
She stared at him, incredulous. “Why would I be here if I did?” Frowning up at the angry Obnizov’s face, she caught hold of his arm, trying to get him to focus. “Yeger... you know this is not me! Why would I ask to question him, if it was?” At the other’s harder scowl, she sighed. “We will talk to the release guards, you and I. Find out who has him.”
“No one should have him!” Obnizov exploded, jerking his arm out from her hands. “This is bullshit, Ilana! It is total bullshit, to do it like this!”
“I agree.” She went back to staring at the empty cell. “We will clear this up, you and I...”
Obnizov only scowled though, looking at her with even more suspicion.
She was about to try and speak to him again when she glanced at Raguel and trailed, forgetting her words when she saw his expression. He frowned intently at the wall of one of the the empty cells, anger etched in his handsome features.
She followed his stare. When she bent down and stared at the same section of wall, she saw words written there in dark, red-tinted script.
“What is that?” the detective snapped, apparently following their stares too. “What is that written there? What does it say?”
Walking closer, Ilana bent her knees to lower her body to a crouch so she could peer through the iron bars. Staring at the words dripping there on the gray wall, she realized they had been written in drying blood.
Too late, Raguel, the words said in Russian. You and your little KGB cunt are too late.
“KGB?” Obnizov spoke loudly, reading the words from behind her. “What is that? Who is he talking about? And who is ‘Raguel’?”
/> Swallowing, she only looked up at Raguel.
But the angel didn’t speak.
YOU KNOW HOW IT WORKS
ILANA LEFT THE area of the cells fully intending to call Karkoff and find out if he knew who was behind moving Golunsky.
As it turned out, she did not have to call Karkoff, however.
Karkoff called her.
As soon as they reentered Obnizov’s office, a junior detective popped his head in the door and summoned Ilana to a private room.
She motioned for Raguel to follow her.
She did not really want him questioned alone by Obnizov, not until she’d prepped him, so he followed her into a private office and stood just beside her after the junior detective left them alone and shut the door. She didn’t bother to turn on the lights, so the room remained dim apart from an orange desk lamp that was already lit.
When she picked up the phone, she found Karkoff waiting for her on the other end.
“Ilana?” he said at once. “You have heard? You know about the new body, da?”
Ilana felt her skin grow cold. She glanced at Raguel, who watched her silently with his crystal gray eyes. “No.”
“This line is clear, Ilana. We can talk freely.”
She nodded, staring at the closed door. “What body, Karkoff?”
“It is him. Golunsky.”
Ilana felt her stomach give another lurch. “Another child?”
“No. I mean it is him. The body is Golunsky. He is dead.”
Again, Ilana glanced at Raguel, remembering what he’d told her.
The writing on the prison wall was right. They were too late.
She didn’t say much as Karkoff sketched out the basic details. Golunsky had been found, it turned out, with his throat cut, nearly on the steps of St. Basil’s Cathedral, “close enough to piss on Minin and Pozharsky,” as Karkoff put it, his voice holding the barest touch of grim humor.
She knew it was not a joking thing, though.
Ilana could hear the tension in Karkoff’s voice even below that humor.
“How?” she said, her voice numb. “How did this happen? Who saw it?”
“It is like before. No one will admit to seeing it, Ilana.”
“But how is that possible?” she said. “This is not the middle of the night––this is broad daylight! There are so many people there... soldiers.” She shook her head. “It is not possible, Karkoff.”
“Someone cleared that part of the Square, Ilana. Someone official.”
“Who?”
She heard him smile on the other end of the line, yet heard no humor in his voice.
“We do not know.”
“That is not possible, either,” she said, frustrated.
“Yet, it seems that is what happened. For now, at least.” He paused. “You’ll need to come down here, Ilana. But later, okay? Let official KGB do their thing first. I do not want you to break cover until it is absolutely necessary. I want you to stay with the militsiya for now. Find out who took him out of there. I am looking here, too.”
“When did they find the body?”
“One hour ago.” She heard him moving and realized he was checking to confirm his answer. “...Now, it is perhaps closer to two hours. I will get the exact time for you. There is a big stink here right now because it was a Party member’s son who found the body. I cannot get away for long.”
Ilana felt her sense of unreality worsen. “Two hours? Obnizov only now finds out he is gone, and Golunsky is already dead maybe two hours... again outside the Kremlin?”
Karkoff exhaled, sounding frustrated. “Someone is playing games with us, Ilana. You think?”
She slowly shook her head, but not in a no.
“Games are your specialty, Karkoff,” she said finally.
He grunted, then his voice grew more official-sounding. He asked her opinions of the murders themselves, from what the militsiya had uncovered so far. He also asked her whether she had seen or heard anything more that might give them some clue as to the exact political motive, and which foreign powers were likely to be involved. After a long pause where she only thought, she exhaled another sigh.
“I do not think there are any foreign powers involved,” she said truthfully. “I did not think it political at all, not at first. Now, with him gone, it seems likely.”
“You did not think it was political before?” Karkoff sounded surprised. “You were there for the interview, da? Yet you do not think there are foreign powers involved?”
Puzzled, she shook her head, although he wouldn’t see it of course. “Of course there is a chance.” Ilana grunted. “There is always a chance of such things.”
There was another silence, then Karkoff’s voice grew guarded.
“How did he sound to you? This Golunsky?”
“Truthfully? He sounded like a lunatic.” She glanced at Raguel. “He babbled about angels and demons. Nothing political that I heard... more like religious nonsense, mixed with a lot of aggression. He spoke to me about sex, trying to unsettle me. He said more nonsense about Obnizov, as well, trying to unsettle him. He spoke to people who were not in the room. Most of it was meaningless, Karkoff... just gibberish.”
The silence on the line deepened.
Unnerved by that silence for some reason, Ilana frowned, then shrugged.
“...He confessed to killing the children. He also confessed to abusing them sexually right in front of both of us. Obnizov has it all recorded. I will bring you that recording of course, but if there is a political motive there, I did not––”
“I have heard the recordings, Ilana.”
His voice sounded cold.
“Oh?” she said. “How is that?”
“We had them sent here as soon as the interview was completed.”
Ilana heard the coldness in his voice even more clearly that time. She was still trying to decide what to say, when he let out an angry-sounding exhale.
“I am confused, Ilana.” Karkoff’s voice grew harder still. “In the recordings I heard, Golunsky is talking mostly about America. How America will destroy the Motherland. How America is the future and we are the past. How the plans are already in the works... how their followers are everywhere, how the end of the Soviet Empire is near. You are right, he sounds crazy. But it is all political, Ilana. And it is all about foreigners. I heard the talk about angels and demons too. But that was only in the very beginning of the tapes. Before you and Obnizov got him to talk.” Pausing, he added, “Did you intend to cut that part of the interview out, Ilana? Do you think me such a fool, that I wouldn’t discover the truth?”
She felt her skin grow colder and colder as he spoke.
“Could there have been a second interview?” she said.
She heard Karkoff let out an incredulous sound. “I heard your voice on the tape, Ilana. You asked him questions. You spoke to him... about where. About when.” His voice turned to a growl. “I had to send the recordings up the ladder. I had to. But this line is clear. Why don’t you tell me what really happened?”
Ilana fought to think, to wrap her mind around this. She needed to get ahold of the tapes. She needed to know what the hell Karkoff heard, or it would be very dangerous to answer.
“Golunsky’s death,” she said instead. “...was it suicide?”
“No.” Karkoff let out an annoyed sigh. “His body was chopped up, Ilana. Hands. Feet...” His voice held disgust. “...Genitals.”
Ilana hesitated, glancing at Raguel.
“I do not know what to think, comrade,” she said finally, sighing as she turned back to the phone. Again, she found herself speaking more or less truthfully. “I feel like this thing is bigger in some way, but I am not convinced it is political in the usual sense... or perhaps is more political internally than it is pretending to be.”
Still thinking, she again glanced at Raguel.
“...If you want my real opinion, I would look inside the Kremlin, Karkoff. Or perhaps in Lubyanka,” she added more carefully, referring
to KGB headquarters. Frowning harder, knowing she might be digging the hole deeper for herself with every word, she added, “I would very much like to know how he came out of a police station in midday without anyone admitting to having seen him... and how he was chopped up and left in the middle of Red Square... also without anyone seeing this occur. To me this is highly problematic. That there could be another murder there, with no witnesses... it is beyond unlikely. I would have said it was totally impossible before today, no matter who did it.”
For a moment, Karkoff remained silent.
She could almost feel him thinking through the line.
“Where have you been, Ilana?” Karkoff said. “This morning. I tried to call before, when I first heard the recordings. They said you left.”
She felt her fear worsen.
Forcing a sigh, she combed a hand through her long hair.
“Yes. Following the interview, I wished to look over the evidence in more detail before I made my report. I opted not to do that here. I just now came back to follow up with Golunsky with more questions. That is how we found him missing.”
She hesitated, once more glancing at Raguel, whose face she could still not read at all.
She knew Karkoff trusted her. He used to, at least.
She also knew how bad this looked, and would continue to look, if she did not find some way to hear whatever it was Karkoff had heard.
Karkoff would hear about Raguel now too, if he didn’t know about him already. Now that Golunsky was dead in such a way, Karkoff would be looking at everyone who went in and came out of Petrovka 38 that day. He would be looking at every single person Ilana had contact with, as well, and how she knew them.
He would hear how Ilana had brought Raguel back here.
He would hear how she took Raguel from the prison cell that morning, too.
“...I also followed up on a possible witness,” Ilana added after that pause, making a snap decision. “But I am thinking that is a dead-end now.”
“Why?” Karkoff said, sharper.
“He heard the guards talking about Golunsky and said his name to me,” she explained, again thinking fast. “He was picked up for drunkenness and one of the officers brought me to speak to him after he asked for me. He is a neighbor of mine, which is how he recognized me. I thought perhaps he might still be of use, but the man is sobering up now, and he admits to me he knows nothing. He was simply afraid his wife would find him in here. He wished to speak to me. And he wanted me to bring him home...”
Shadow WIngs (Skeleton Key) Page 11