“Why not?”
“Because . . . because there was something about the man. He was too sure of himself. Too . . . I don’t know. I didn’t like it. I thought perhaps it was a setup of some sort, like the man was deliberately trying to bait Eldar.”
“What happened next?”
“I told the man again that we were not interested. I even offered to buy him a drink. Then I told Eldar to ignore him, but you know Eldar. When he gets his mind set, he is difficult to dissuade.”
Her son was stubborn, also like his grandfather, but he rarely got his mind set on anything. He acted impulsively and often violently. He did not consider consequences because he rarely had to confront them. That, too, had been his father’s problem—Yekaterina’s husband. He cheated on Yekaterina because he believed he could. He’d been wrong. Yekaterina made sure he disappeared.
“Why was Eldar in the alley?”
When Pavil failed to immediately answer, she knew he was searching through the story he had concocted. “Why?” he asked. Stalling.
“Yes.”
“I parked the car out back. In the alley.”
“Why?”
“The door in the alley was a short distance to the car. And we . . . we wouldn’t have to walk past this man who was seated in a booth near the front.”
“I thought you said he was challenging Eldar to a game of pool?”
“He was. I misspoke.”
“A wise decision on your part to leave.” She nodded to the glass in his hand. Pavil took another drink. “Had you and Eldar been drinking?”
Pavil set the glass back in his lap. “We had a few beers and a shot at the bar.”
“And before you arrived?”
“A cocktail at dinner. Some wine. Nothing excessive.”
She doubted it. “What happened next?”
“We went into the alley. The man must have gone out the other way. He came around the side of the building. He had a pool cue in his hand and moved to attack Eldar, but I was able to deflect the blow. I knocked him down. I thought that would end it. I thought he would leave. I’m sorry. I wasn’t as prepared as I should have been.”
“Not prepared for what?”
“He had a gun. The man had a gun. I was too late.” He sobbed again. “I’m sorry. I was too late to stop him.”
When Pavil stopped sobbing and looked at her, she nodded again to the glass. Again Pavil sipped the brandy. “Where did he shoot Eldar?”
“In the gut.”
“And how did you manage to get away without being shot?”
“The bartender must have heard the gunshot. He opened the door from the bar to the alley. I was behind the door, so I don’t think the bartender saw me. When the man saw the bartender he ran.”
“Where were you?” she asked.
“Where? Near the side of the building.”
“The door on the south side.” At her request, Yekaterina had received the building layout and photographs of the alley. She had them spread across the blotter on her desk in the cone of light.
“I don’t recall the direction—”
“But you said you were behind the door when the door opened.”
“Yes.”
“So you were close to the entrance to the alley.”
“Yes. I was. That’s right. I remember now. I was.”
“Why didn’t you stop the man from leaving?”
“He . . . he had a gun.”
“Did you have your gun?”
Pavil figured out the hole in his story and frantically tried to patch it before all the air leaked out. “It all happened so fast, Comare. And then . . . everything happened quickly . . . the bartender coming to the door . . . the man fleeing. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You left my son in an alley to die alone.”
Pavil’s eyes widened. “I . . . I thought it best that I not be there.”
“Why didn’t you come here? Why did I have to send Mily to find you?”
“I wasn’t thinking straight, Comare. Eldar was my friend. I didn’t know what to do.” He sobbed again.
Yekaterina looked to Mily and nodded. Mily reached over and took the glass, then motioned for Pavil to stand.
“Go back to the front room,” Yekaterina said. “Stay with the others, in case I have more questions.”
“I’m sorry—”
She raised a hand. “Get out of my sight.”
Pavil crossed the Persian carpet to the door, which Mily held open for him. He looked to Mily, who offered him nothing, then he looked back to Yekaterina. She did not acknowledge him. Mily closed the door behind him.
Yekaterina took a long inhale on the cigarette and held it. She exhaled slowly, smoke escaping her nostrils and mouth as she spoke. “Find out what really happened. Call our contacts at the Moscow police department and get ahead of this.” She knew her son. Knew what he was, that he had likely provoked something. If he had been drinking, it had been a lot, and there was likely a woman involved. A prostitute. Drugs also.
Because that was her son.
And that had been her father—his grandfather.
They liked their booze and their clothes and their women. They liked to not just be seen but to be noticed. They were cheats and misogynists. They believed the family made them omnipotent, and that omnipotence allowed them to be cruel, especially to women.
But Alexei was her father.
And Eldar was her son.
And this was her family.
If another family had seen this as an opportunity and had gunned Eldar down, there would be a war, and she would win. And if it had been the government, killing Eldar like they had killed her father leaving a Moscow restaurant, she would cripple their construction projects with slowdowns, costing them billions of dollars. Someone would pay, in blood or in rubles.
“What of Pavil?” Mily asked.
“Let him mourn with the others for now. Make sure he doesn’t leave the property or talk to anyone else about what happened,” she said. “My son was not a good person in life, but like my father, I will do everything I can to see that he is remembered as one in death. Go. Bring me the information I requested.”
10
Bolshevo Railway Station
Korolyov, Moscow Oblast, Russia
Early the following morning, Jenkins, disguised as Zagir Togan, stood sweating on the Bolshevo train station platform. Meteorologists predicted another sweltering Russian day. He had checked the newspaper that morning and listened to the news, but his confrontation at the Yakimanka Bar had not been reported. The prostitute’s reaction, however, kept running through his head, along with her look of fear.
What have you done?