Last Snow - Eric van Lustbader [94]
JACK, LISTENING to what Annika was saying, at first missed her comment. People spoke to other people in varying ways. His brain was a repository of those different intonations. That was how he knew Annika was talking to Dyadya Gourdjiev, asking him about Kirilenko’s boss.
Alli was already behind the chair to which Kirilenko was bound by the time he’d diverted his attention back to her.
“What are you doing?”
“Untying him,” she said. “I think that’s what we should do.”
“You’re the one who spat in his face.”
“I didn’t like what he said to me, that doesn’t mean I hate his guts.”
Annika folded away her cell. “I’ll know who assigned you to the American spy in a couple of hours,” she promised. Then, seeing Alli unwinding the electrical flex from Kirilenko’s crossed wrists, said, “That’s a mistake we’ll all regret.”
“I don’t think so,” Kirilenko said.
“There’s a surprise!” Annika still held his pistol in her hand, though it was no longer pointed at him.
“Listen, in light of everything that’s happened here I have a proposal to make.”
Annika snorted. “This from a supposedly incorruptible FSB homicide investigator?”
“Let’s hear what he has to say.” Alli threw the unwound flex into a corner.
Jack was about to answer her, but into his mind came the image of Alli bound to a chair, which was immediately supplanted by the memory of Annika explaining why Alli had wanted to go to Milla Tamirova’s apartment, or, as Annika put it, to her dungeon. Kirilenko sat in the chair into which up to a moment ago they’d bound him. Jack knew Alli couldn’t help but equate his position to hers, and who was to say she was wrong.
Kirilenko made no aggressive move, or even an attempt to rise from the chair. He did nothing but massage his wrists in order to return circulation to his terribly chapped hands.
Lifting his head, he addressed Annika frankly, “My proposal is this: You kill Mondan Limonev and I’ll take care of the American Harry Martin who’s been sent to find you.”
“Wait a minute,” Jack said, “I think I’ve seen this film.”
“Strangers on a Train, yes, I’m familiar with it.” Kirilenko stopped his massage to gratefully put another cigarette between his lips. He leaned forward as Annika lit it. “But I’m not joking.”
“Aren’t you the great detective who relentlessly runs down murderers?” Annika said with understandable skepticism.
“Yes, yes, of course you would say that. I would, too, in your position.” Kirilenko expelled smoke in a deep sigh. “In the last half hour it’s occurred to me that you and I have been cleverly set up. I may not know what’s going on, but I’m convinced that you didn’t kill Ilenya Makova.”
“We’ve been trying to find out who did,” Jack said. “The trail has led us here.”
“I believe that, as well.”
Annika was obviously still a skeptic. “What could possibly have changed your mind so quickly? You’re known as the great crusader against murder and rape; your convictions, your sense of right and wrong must be immutable.”
“It’s true I hate criminals and that my outrage at the taking of a life is absolute, but my hatred of mistakes trumps them all. This is why in my twenty-two years as a manhunter I’ve never brought down the wrong perpetrator. When it comes to my employers I may be deaf and dumb, but I’m not blind. I’m aware that a percentage of their activities is criminal. Head down, nose clean, that’s what’s needed to survive in their system.” He peeled a bit of tobacco off his lip, eyed it for a moment before flicking it away. “But I suppose that’s true of any system, the larger the system the greater the need to ignore the illegalities going on around you, the more vital it is to keep your mouth shut.”
“Illegalities!” He’d clearly hit a nerve, and Annika was outraged.
“Look, I’m not in the directorate that spends its days and nights trumping up charges against the officers of legitimate companies and the oligarch owners on Yukin’s and Batchuk’s orders. I’m not throwing innocent people in prison to rot for the rest of their lives. I’m not terrorizing their wives and mistresses,