by Estelle Ryan
No sooner had we settled around the table than Roman came in, carrying a silver tray. The tea and coffee were in silver pots, the crockery fine cream porcelain with gold around the rims and ears. Judging by the quality and opulence of our surroundings, I was confident that the teaspoons were real gold.
As soon as Roman established that he was no longer needed, he left the room and closed the door quietly behind him. Nikolai Guskov stared vacantly at the polished silver coffee pot in front of him. “Al was a good man.”
“Al?” I had no idea who he was talking about.
He jerked as if startled into wakefulness and looked at me. “My apologies. Aleksei Volyntsev was not only one of the best diplomats I ever worked with, he was also a friend. A good friend.”
Since the moment we’d walked into his office, Nikolai had not once exhibited signs of insincerity. I studied him as he struggled to control his emotions. He was of average height, and his fit body looked like he led an active life. I couldn’t estimate his age, but his youthful looks were a genetic advantage that would always make him appear younger than he was. His manicured hands, elegant suit and styled hair were evidence that he valued his appearance.
“It’s never easy losing a friend.” Manny’s tone was gentle, his nonverbal cues sincere. I found the change in his behaviour jarring. And fascinating. I wanted to understand what it was in Roman that had elicited Manny’s contempt. None of that was now visible. He leaned closer to Nikolai. “When did he get sick?”
“A few weeks ago, he complained that he got a head cold.” A sad smile pulled the corners of Nikolai’s mouth sideways. “He always suffered terribly from seasonal allergies and was happy when winter finally arrived. So when he felt like he had a cold, he was quite angry. He loved spending the weekends with his kids skiing and this cold made it hard for him to enjoy anything.”
“Was he at any meeting or conference or did he travel somewhere before he caught this cold?” Manny asked.
Nikolai frowned and looked up at the ceiling. When he looked back at Manny, he shook his head. “No. Al was busy with the exhibition and didn’t go anywhere for about three months. So travelling is out of the equation. But meetings? All the time. We spend three to seven nights a week at some event and twice or three times a week during the day. There’s always something.”
“Could you tell us more about the exhibition?” Colin’s dilated pupils indicated that he was interested and wanted to absorb as much information as possible.
“Oh, that is something I’m very proud of.” Nikolai’s chin lifted, his shoulders pulled back. “This was just one of the many reasons Al and I became friends. We shared similar passions, similar visions. Both of us want Russia to become a leading power in the world when it comes to culture. Music, art, poetry, writing—Russia has always produced some of the best works in the world. Al and I envisioned Russia empowering her people by channelling the creative arts as well as academia into something more mainstream.”
“I assume you have a great passion for the arts.” Colin nodded at the three paintings on the wall facing the windows. “Those are great reproductions.”
“Thank you.” His eyes narrowed. “How did you know they were not the real thing?”
Colin chuckled. “The fact that the artist signed his name under the original artists’ names. I’ve always believed it takes a master to produce a masterpiece, but a gifted master to reproduce that work. Jacques Prouvé is well known in the art world as one of the most gifted masters when it comes to reproducing post-impressionist paintings.”
“You know your art.” Nikolai leaned towards Colin. “Al would’ve loved chatting with you. He was the one who gave me Prouvé’s name. My wife has not forgiven him for that. I’ve spent far too much money on spoiling myself.”
“Collecting beautiful artworks can be very addictive.” Colin paused. “I assume the exhibition was only authentic artworks?”
“Oh, yes.” Nikolai nodded. “Al insisted on it when Lev came to him with the proposal. You see, Lev Markov is a close ally to the president of Belarus as well as a good friend to Al. After a scandal involving Lev’s father-in-law, he was no longer welcome in his own country and settled here in France. As a matter of fact, he lives here in Strasbourg. Despite the distance, he still remains friends with President Pyotr Grekova.”
Art, exhibitions, polonium-210 poisoning and now politics? I paid close attention to everything Nikolai said as well as every accompanying micro-expression. All these factors were related to Fradkov, so I didn’t want to miss even the smallest detail.
“A bit more background.” Nikolai sat back in his chair. “Last year, Al and I started UTA, the Unity Through Art project. We have the Russian government’s full backing to grow this so we can reach as many people as possible.”
“What is this project?” Manny asked.
“In short, we aim to bring music, art, poetry, writing and acting to the EU, but especially to those territories previously part of the USSR. There are a lot of people and politicians in Russia who would like the image of Russians being warmongers to change. We are lovers and poets. Artists and musicians.”
“The darker side of your history is difficult to deny though,” Manny said.
“True. Al and I hoped to use the UTA project to be a step towards healing some rifts. We organised one classical music concert and two jazz concerts here in Strasbourg. Both were huge successes. That’s when Lev heard of us. A day after the first jazz concert, he came to me with the idea of an art exhibition. It turned out that President Grekova wasn’t the only influential person he knew. He has countless contacts in the international art world.
“Within two weeks Lev was able to secure paintings from Renaissance artists from seven different museums in five different countries. Together with Al we planned the exhibition. It opened here in Strasbourg, then moves to Belarus, Ukraine, Georgia, and so on.”
“Those are countries closest to Russia with a more recent history of war or political uprising.” I followed the news closely and these countries all had recent volatile political situations. “What about Poland, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Estonia, Latvia—”
“Russia has as much damage control to do in those countries as elsewhere, but we had to prioritise.” He didn’t look pleased with it. “I wanted to include all the old Soviet states, but we were not permitted. So we decided to take it one step at a time, one battle at a time.”
I inhaled to ask about their war strategy, but Colin put his hand on my forearm and shook his head. I thought about it for a second and nodded. An interesting expression to use, especially from someone who wanted to change the perception of his country.
“Where are the paintings at the moment?” Colin asked. “Still here in Strasbourg?”
“No. Our exhibition here ended two weeks ago. The next one is in Belarus. In Minsk. Some of the paintings are already there and some are on their way there now. It’s a logistical nightmare to move these valuable works across borders.”
“How many paintings do you have in the exhibition?” Colin shifted in his chair to lean even closer to Nikolai, closer to the topic that always brought more colour to his complexion and expression to his face.
“Two hundred and seventy-three.” Nikolai smiled. “I still can’t believe we actually got so many amazing artworks together. There are two Gozzolis, one Pisanello, two Clouets and works from Bellini, Tintoretto and Donatello. It’s a breathtaking exhibition.”
“Yet I didn’t hear anything about it.” Colin’s tone was neutral, but I saw the suspicion around his eyes. “Why not?”
“The exhibition here in Strasbourg was an unofficial opening. Lev hosted it in his home and didn’t want it open to the public. Only a few selected people were invited to three separate viewings. And since France wasn’t part of the USSR, it didn’t make sense to fight for an open exhibition. Belarus will be our official opening and from then on it will be open to the public in each location.”
“Could you be so k
ind as to send us a list of the paintings as well as the planned exhibitions?”
“I’ll get Roman to do it as soon as we’re done here.” Nikolai frowned. “You know, Monsieur Privott only told me that you would be here to ask me about Al’s death. He didn’t say anything about the exhibitions.”
Manny cleared his throat, drawing Nikolai’s attention. “I’m sure your government is also looking into this since Aleksei died from radiation poisoning. Surely you can understand that we need to investigate every detail to make sure that this is not something that could be a threat to national or even international security.”
Nikolai looked at Manny for two seconds before smiling. “Your answer is one I would give when I didn’t want to show my hand. You know something about Al’s death, don’t you?”
Manny slumped slightly. Barely visible expressions revealed his inner debate. He looked at me. “Doc?”
“Yes?”
Manny’s lips thinned. Then he took a deep breath and turned to Nikolai. “My apologies, but I need to know if I can trust you.” He looked at me again. “Can we trust him?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed when Manny’s nostrils flared. “I only have the context of our conversation. Based on that, Consul General Guskov has been truthful most of the time.”
“Most?” Nikolai moved his arms from their relaxed position on the arms of the chair to cross in front of him. “And you’d better call me Nikolai if you’re going to call me a liar.”
“I didn’t call you a liar. You said there are a lot of politicians and people in Russia who would like Russia’s image to change. When you said ‘a lot’, your blinking increased and you touched your neck. You don’t believe there are a lot of politicians and people... ah, so only politicians then.” It had been easy to see his different reactions to the two groups. I found it fascinating to meet someone so closely connected to politics who exhibited such a strong loathing for politicians. “You don’t believe politicians are interested in promoting peace.”
“Who are you?” Nikolai’s brow lowered and he stared at me.
“Doctor Genevieve Lenard.” I thought about our conversation so far and added, “You may call me Genevieve.”
“She’s the best body language expert the world has to offer.” Manny nodded once. “And to answer your earlier question, we don’t have specific information about Aleksei’s radiation poisoning. But we are investigating another case that we suspect might be connected to your friend’s death.”
“Could you share anything with me?”
“Not at this time.” Manny pulled his smartphone from his trouser pocket and frowned at the screen before he put it back. “Can I rely on you to give us your full co-operation?”
“Absolutely.” Nikolai glanced at the door, closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “I love my country. Russia is unlike any other place in the world. But there are things that I’m not proud of. I suppose everyone feels like that about their countries. I’m hoping that I can bring some change, no matter how small. It might just snowball into a bigger change that could make Russia the country I believe she can be.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, his internal debate visible on his face. “What I’m trying to say is that I want to stop bad things and make good things happen.”
Manny lifted one hand to stop Nikolai. “I understand. Enough said.”
“Thank you.” Nikolai’s shoulders lowered in relief. He got up, walked to his desk and came back with a business card. He handed it to Manny. “If you need any more information, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”
Chapter SEVEN
“You’ll have to ask Millard, love.” Colin waited until I exited the elevator and followed me into our team room. On the way here, we’d talked about our impressions of Nikolai Guskov and his assistant Roman. Vinnie had eagerly listened and had asked intelligent questions. This had helped me to organise my observations in my mind.
“Ask me what, Doc?” Manny was standing next to Francine’s desk, his hand on her shoulder. As Colin, Vinnie and I got closer, he put his hands in his trouser pockets.
“Why did you act like a buffoon in front of Roman, but treat Nikolai as a respected peer?”
Francine turned to look at Manny, her eyes wide. “A buffoon, handsome? I’m shocked.”
I didn’t know why Francine was lying, but was more interested in Manny’s answer than confronting her about it.
Manny took a step away from Francine and shrugged. “That Roman pissed me off.”
“Why?”
“Why, Doc?” Manny huffed. “He looked at us as if the cat had dragged us in, dismissed you as a nobody, then fawned all over Frey about a stupid painting. And you’re asking me why that pissed me off?”
“Yes.”
Manny’s nostrils flared when my simple answer caused Vinnie to laugh. Manny’s lips thinned even more and he walked to the round table. “I’m not getting into this with you now, missy. I’m hungry and I want to eat.”
Francine got up and stretched. “I ordered Chinese from that place you like, girlfriend. We might as well go and eat before Manny gets hangrier.”
I pulled my lips between my teeth to prevent myself from commenting and joined everyone at the table. The familiar smell of Gong Bao chicken brought the realisation that it was twelve minutes past one and I hadn’t eaten anything since the one piece of toast and coffee I’d had at home this morning. I hadn’t even eaten the banana in Justine’s hotel suite.
I sat down in my usual chair and just couldn’t contain it anymore. “Hangry should never have been accepted as a word. I accept the evolution of language, but this is a ridiculous word.”
“For once we agree, Doc.” Manny opened one of the cardboard containers and inhaled. “Ah, sweet and sour pork. Thanks, supermodel.”
It was quiet around the table for a few minutes while everyone ate. This Chinese restaurant was one of three places in Strasbourg from which I accepted takeaway food. The owner was a rude, small Chinese woman who spoke in staccato sentences. Despite complaining both times I’d insisted on inspecting the kitchen, she had proudly showed off what happened behind the closed doors.
Her staff’s body language had revealed their fear of her temper, but they had been proud to give me a demonstration of completing an order. The fresh products, gleaming surfaces and obsessive cleaning had placated all concerns I’d had about their food.
I took another bite and watched Francine as she once again swiped her tablet screen. Something was causing her great concern. When we’d walked in, I had noticed her biting the inside of her bottom lip the way she did when she fretted about something.
My first thought had been that Fradkov had phoned again, but I’d dismissed it immediately. She would’ve told us if he’d phoned. I’d put her disquiet down to the frustration of Emad and Fradkov still evading capture. I looked at her closely as she tapped the screen again. She chewed a bit longer on her bottom lip, then glanced at Manny.
Even though I needed to know what was worrying Francine, I first needed to understand Manny’s behaviour. I put my chopsticks down and looked at him. “I would like an answer that is not sarcastic or irritated. Why did you treat Nikolai like a peer and Roman like a suspect?”
Manny finished chewing, his expression annoyed. “Roman is a pill.”
“What’s that?” Surely he was not referring to medicine.
“It’s someone I don’t trust as far as I can throw him, missy.” Manny sighed and stabbed his chopsticks into his meal. He blinked, a brief and surprising expression of grief moving across his face. “Nikolai, on the other hand, made me think of a partner I had many years ago. I was still working at Scotland Yard and George was my second partner that year. He was the most strait-laced person I’d ever met.” Manny glanced at Colin, his top lip curling. “He always wore these well-tailored suits, classy ties and shiny shoes. Not the typical look for a lowly copper.”
“Wasn’t he a detective like you?” Why would Manny’s partner be an offic
er when he was an inspector?
“He was, but we’re not talking about George right now.” Manny picked up his chopsticks again. “Nikolai has the same look about him, but also the same no-nonsense approach. There is something about that man that tells me he’s not your typical Russian. And before you ask, Doc, I don’t know what that ‘something’ is. All I know is that my gut tells me that I can trust him a hell of a lot more than I can trust his assistant.”
I nodded. Even though it still irked me whenever one of my team told me that their internal organs were giving them information about a person, I’d learned to accept this. Very often people received nonverbal information that was processed on a subconscious level to give them a good or bad feeling about a person. It was unreasonable to expect most people to translate those signals into words. Not everyone had a high enough self-awareness and knowledge of psychology to understand what they were feeling.
“What’s your opinion about Nikolai, Doc?”
“He was truthful in most of his exchanges. His passion for Russia’s art, music and poetry was unmistakeable, as well as his dedication to sharing it with other cultures.”
“But can we trust him?” Manny lifted his right hand as if to stop me. “And I’m not talking about trusting him with state secrets. I’m talking about trusting him to be honest and co-operative.”
I thought about this. “Not once did I observe any calculation in his answers. His grief for his friend was genuine as well as his desire to help.” I thought about this some more. “I don’t like your definition of trust, but from the short time we were with Nikolai, I feel confident that we can expect him to be forthcoming with information that could help us find his friend’s killer.”
“And I think he would be even more helpful if we can do something to help him with his art project,” Colin added. “I agree with Jenny about his passion. I think he would go against what certain elements in the Russian government want him to do if it were to benefit his cause.”
“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.” Manny pointed his chopsticks at Francine. “What did you find on the radiation poisoning diplomat?”