Dinara was puzzled.

  “It’s boss-speak for a reprimand,” Leonid explained. “Dressed up as advice to help you improve your performance.”

  “What the hell are you people into?” Anna asked, glancing around the park.

  Leonid shrugged, and Dinara couldn’t think of a good way to answer the question.

  “That base,” Anna went on. “I made a couple of calls and I was told that it never existed. So I called a friend in Army Intelligence and he said I was playing with fire.”

  “Did he say anything else?” Dinara asked.

  “Are you kidding? He was terrified even talking to me,” Anna replied.

  Leonid shook his head with resignation. Dinara knew what he was thinking. They’d hit a dead end.

  “Give me the name,” Anna said. “I did as much as I could. Keep your side of the deal, Boykov.”

  He sighed. “OK,” he conceded. “The Black Hundreds recruiter is a man called Erik Utkin. He runs a group out of a gym called Grom Boxing. It’s where Spartak Zima trains.”

  Anna whistled.

  “The fighters are dealing for him,” Leonid continued. “We’ve been conducting surveillance on them. I’ve asked my team to send you everything we’ve got.”

  “Really?” Anna asked.

  Leonid nodded.

  “Your team? I thought you two are all there is,” Anna said. “And your American boss of course.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” Leonid advised her.

  Dinara was surprised when Anna stepped forward and embraced Leonid.

  “Thank you,” she said. “This might just save my neck. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

  “You owe me then?” Leonid asked.

  “I didn’t say that.” Anna flashed a smile. “Good luck.”

  She turned on her heels and started back along the icy boulevard.

  “So we’ve got nothing?” Dinara remarked.

  She sensed Leonid wasn’t listening, and realized his attention had drifted to three men who were coming west along the boulevard. Dinara looked to her left and saw two others beside the long pavilion, heading south, directly toward her.

  “Either Anna is part of this and walked us into a trap, or they were alerted by her inquiries and followed her here,” Leonid said urgently.

  Dinara’s stomach tightened and her legs went weak.

  “Dinara,” Leonid said, his voice pleading and fearful. “Run!”

  CHAPTER 77

  DINARA AND LEONID ran south beneath Krymsky Bridge. The traffic thundered overhead, and when she glanced back, Dinara saw the two men by the pavilion break into a sprint.

  She and Leonid burst from the shadow of the bridge onto the riverfront plaza that abutted the high gates of Gorky Park. The plaza hadn’t been plowed and was buried beneath deep snow.

  “This way,” she said to Leonid, urging him toward the park, but they stopped dead when they saw two men running through the open gates.

  “The stairs!” Leonid pointed toward a set of stone steps that led up to the bridge.

  They ran as fast as they could, fighting the draining resistance of the deep powder. Dinara’s legs went numb with cold, and her lungs burned with each freezing breath, but she pressed on, fueled by the memory of her abduction by Veles and his men.

  Like a specter summoned by thought, the fearsome killer appeared a hundred meters to their left, halfway along the bridge. He was with another man, and both of them started sprinting when they caught sight of Leonid and Dinara running through the snow.

  Dinara forced herself toward the steps. She glanced behind her and saw the pair exit Gorky Park and start across the plaza. The other duo emerged from beneath the bridge, their hot breath clouding the air in rapid bursts as they ran across the plaza. One of them drew a pistol, and Dinara reached for her own and opened fire. Her shots went wild, but their pursuers scattered. The gunman and his companion retreated beneath the bridge, and the pair from Gorky Park ran for a concrete structure that protruded from the park’s museum.

  They didn’t stay hidden for long.

  “Here!” Leonid yelled as the crack of gunfire rose above the noise of nearby traffic, and bullets snapped through the air around them.

  He grabbed Dinara’s arm and pulled her in front of him. When she looked back, she saw him falter as he was hit in the back by a bullet. He was hurt and stumbled in the snow, but quickly found his feet.

  “I’m OK,” he insisted. “I’m wearing my vest.”

  They made it to the steps and crouched as they ran up them. A stone wall shielded them from the shots, and the air around them filled with dust and debris as bullets chipped at the protective barrier.

  Up on the bridge, Veles and his companion were no more than fifty meters from the top of the stairs.

  “Come on!” Dinara urged.

  She opened fire, and the wild shots had the desired effect, slowing Veles and the other man down. She and Leonid crested the last flight of steps and reached the bridge twenty-five meters ahead of Veles. She was about to turn east, when she saw the trio of men who’d been coming along the boulevard running toward them along the pavement on the other side of the bridge. Further down the street, she saw Anna Bolshova hurrying in their direction. Either she’d been attracted by the commotion, or she was part of the ambush.

  Dinara cast around for an escape route, and realized the stairs on the other side of the bridge were their best hope. If they could get down them and run east, they might be able to make it to the Interior Ministry or one of the other nearby government buildings.

  “This way,” Dinara said, and she pulled Leonid forward.

  They leaped the ice-cold steel girder that was the anchor for the bridge’s suspension system, and ran across seven lanes which were crowded with rush-hour traffic. Cars screeched to a halt, and cab drivers tooted their horns. They reached the other side, and Dinara vaulted the northern anchor. She sensed movement behind her and turned to see Leonid get tackled by Veles.

  The assassin’s companion sprinted forward, jumped the girder and came at her. Dinara reacted instinctively and fired a brace of shots that hit him in the gut. The man staggered back a couple of steps and fell to the ground, his face twisted in horror.

  Beyond him, Dinara saw the four men who’d chased them across the plaza emerge from the staircase on the other side of the bridge, and the trio to their east were almost upon them. Traffic had stopped now, and drivers were out, watching the unfolding violence.

  Dinara’s eyes moved to Leonid and Veles, who were slugging it out on the bridge. They traded vicious punches, and Leonid seemed to be holding his own. Dinara searched for a shot, but the men were moving too quickly, and she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t hit Leonid.

  Then, to her horror, she saw a flash of silver. Leonid swung his right fist and Veles ducked the blow, stepped inside it, and drove a gleaming blade into Leonid’s side.

  “No!” Dinara screamed.

  Leonid looked at her with a mix of shock and disbelief, and Veles pulled out the knife and stabbed her friend twice more, in the collar and throat. Leonid’s shock turned to despair, and then there was nothing.

  His eyes went blank and the life left him.

  Tears filled Dinara’s eyes, but she remembered her gun, and pulled the trigger as Leonid’s body fell. Veles was quick and sidestepped the shot, which was the last in the magazine. As Dinara tried to reload, the assassin rushed forward. He was almost at the anchor when Dinara heard the roar of an engine, and turned to see a car hurtling along the bridge’s emergency lane. Anna Bolshova was driving, and she didn’t slow. Veles tried to jump clear, but the car caught him and knocked him down.

  There was a screech of brakes, and the passenger door flew open.

  “Get in!” Anna yelled.

  Dinara could see Veles’ accomplices across the bridge, and the trio further down. She leaped the girder, dived into the passenger seat and was thrown around as Anna hit the accelerator.

  Bullets thudded into the chassis and smashed the rear window, but soon there was nothing except the roar of the engine as they sped out of range.

  Dinara wept, consumed by the thought of Leonid lying dead, his blood freezing on the cold tarmac beneath him.

  CHAPTER 78

  I WAS IN the library studying the files Justine had sent when I heard a commotion coming from somewhere in the building. There were raised voices, shouts of disbelief and crying. I ran toward the source of the noise, and found a crowd of people in the lobby, all clustered around Dinara. The detective who’d attempted to interrogate me, Anna something, stood next to her.

  I pushed my way through the chattering crowd, and even though I couldn’t understand a word they said, their meaning was clear. Something terrible had happened. Feo, the big bear of a man, was comforting Dinara, whose eyes were red raw. She broke into fresh tears when she saw me.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s Leonid,” she said between sobs. “He’s dead. Veles killed him.”

  I went to her and she fell against me, weeping. Stunned, I looked at Anna, who nodded somber confirmation.

  “How?” Feo asked, and I sensed the mood of the crowd change.

  The residents were all former cops, and shock and dismay were being replaced by anger at the death of one of their own. For some, Leonid had been a friend, for others, a benefactor, but he was a former Moscow police officer to them all.

  Anna replied to Feo’s question in Russian, and I felt Dinara sag with each word, doubtless an account of the horror. I looked down and saw she was teetering on the edge of consciousness.

  “Let’s go,” I said, and, supporting her, I ushered her through the crowd.

  No one paid us much mind. They were all listening to Anna. I was desperate to know exactly what had happened, but I couldn’t understand a word she was saying, and Dinara’s welfare was my priority.

  Soon we’d broken free of the crowd and I took Dinara through the building. She seemed delirious and was muttering in Russian. I half carried, half steered her to our accommodation block, and as we started down the corridor, I found my eyes drawn to the very end. The door to Leonid’s room. It would never open for him again.

  I took Dinara into her room and laid her on the bed. I removed her coat and discovered her trousers were soaked through and freezing cold from her thighs to her ankles.

  “Dinara,” I said, stroking her arm.

  I touched her forehead to check for a fever. She felt a little warm, but not enough to worry me.

  “Dinara,” I tried again. “I need you to focus.”

  I was about to go and get help, when she suddenly turned to look at me.

  “Jack, I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t…” She trailed off.

  “It’s OK,” I said. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

  She was haunted by the ugly memories, and her eyes reflected the horror they’d witnessed.

  “He’s gone,” she said simply.

  Her eyes filled with fresh tears.

  “He’s gone.”

  CHAPTER 79

  THE DINING HALL was full. More than eighty residents sat at the long tables, drinking and talking in somber tones. I couldn’t understand a word, but I didn’t need to. It was a wake, and like all such occasions it was rich in reflection, memory and sorrow. I sat alone near the windows, looking outside to see the clouds were finally shedding their loads. Large flakes floated down in the bright pools cast by the exterior lights, settling on the frozen ground like the souls of so many dead. Beyond the lights, there was nothing but black night, so impenetrable the rest of the world might have ceased to exist.

  I nursed a small glass of vodka, which I’d been given for one of the many toasts that had been raised for Leonid Boykov, but I had no interest in drinking. My mood was already bleak, and alcohol would have tipped me into misery. A good man had lost his life investigating the murder of a fraud and a liar—an investigation I had brought Leonid into.

  I was at the very end of one of the long dining tables, surrounded by empty chairs. A few of the ex-cops had gathered at the other end, and there were more spread across the neighboring tables. They didn’t pay me much mind as they sank their drinks and talked quietly. None of them knew the details of the investigation into Karl Parker so I doubted they blamed me as much as I blamed myself.

  Anna Bolshova was with Dinara, who had stayed in her room. She too blamed herself and kept saying she could have saved him. I hadn’t been able to get through to her, but perhaps Anna could.

  Feo was nowhere to be seen. He and another resident had left the building shortly after I’d come into the dining hall.

  I was snapped out of my miserable reflection by my ringing phone, and was relieved to see Justine’s name flash on screen.

  “Jack,” she said, when I answered. “I got your message. I’m so sorry. What happened?”

  “Veles, the man who killed…” I hesitated. What should I call my former friend? I opted for simplicity, even though it perpetuated a lie. “The man who killed Karl Parker. He murdered Leonid. Dinara witnessed the whole thing.”

  “Oh no. I’m sorry, Jack. Is she OK?”

  “Not really,” I replied.

  “And you?”

  I hesitated. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, but I knew it wasn’t good. “I’ll be OK,” I lied.

  Feo entered the dining hall, and I could tell by his demeanor that he had news. He scanned the room, and when he spotted me, he strode over.

  “I’ve got to go, Justine,” I said. “I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “Please be careful, Jack,” she replied.

  “I will,” I assured her before I hung up.

  Feo’s face was devoid of the levity I’d grown accustomed to. He looked stern and fearsome, and his size made his dark mood even more palpable.

  “I’ve been to the city,” he said, taking the seat opposite. “My old colleagues in the Moscow police have been told to find you.”

  My shoulders slumped and I exhaled slowly. I knew what was coming. It was the smart move and I should have expected it.

  “They say you are the main suspect in the murder of Leonid Boykov,” Feo continued. “The story is beginning to leak to the newspapers. By morning, every police officer in Russia will be looking for you. I tried to tell them…” He trailed off and held my gaze. “Even if they’d believed me, it wouldn’t have made a difference. One or two officers can’t overturn this. There’s something much bigger behind it.”

  He paused, clearly building up to something he didn’t want to say.

  “You’re going to be labeled a cop killer,” he said. “We don’t treat such people well in this country. If you stay in Russia, there’s a good chance you will die before you make it to trial.”

  CHAPTER 80

  I STARED ACROSS the table. I was grieving for a man who’d worked for me, but I was also mourning the loss of a friendship that had turned out to be nothing more than an illusion. And now I was being framed for murder. My anger rose, making my skin flush with a crackling heat.

  “You must go,” Feo said.

  “You know I can’t do that,” I responded flatly. “Not until this killer has been caught.”

  “I had a feeling you might say that,” Feo replied. “You seem an honorable man. A coward runs. He might live, but he lives as a coward, and he can never run from himself. The honorable man might die, but he passes in glory. Just like Leonid Boykov.” He glanced around. “Listen to me, talking wisdom like I know about life. I need a drink,” he said, getting to his feet.

  As he went to a table with bottles and glasses, I saw Anna and Dinara enter. Everyone fell silent, and then a few of the assembled residents rose from their seats and offered Dinara their sympathy as she crossed the room. Her eyes glistened and I could see her fighting back tears. Anna gave her a steadying hand, and I stood as they approached.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  Dinara replied with a faint smile, but she looked punch-drunk. She took the seat Feo had vacated, and he returned with a drink and sat next to her. Anna pulled up the chair to my left.

  Feo spoke to the two women in Russian, and their eyes widened and they both looked at me.

  “I was there. I can tell people the truth,” Anna offered.

  “You’ve been reported missing,” Feo said. “Be very careful. Missing can become dead.”

  “They wouldn’t. I’m a police officer,” Anna remarked.

  Feo inclined his head and gave her a withering look. “You know the kind of people who are behind this. Police officer means nothing to them.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dinara said. “If I’d been faster…”

  “This wasn’t your fault,” I assured her. “You did everything you could. The fact you’re even here is a miracle.”

  “That is thanks to Anna,” Dinara replied. “She saved my life.”

  “What do you suggest we do then?” Anna asked. “Sit here and drink?”

  “For tonight,” Feo replied. “We need to find out who we can trust before we do anything. At the moment, that’s no one outside of this building.” He filled a glass and passed it to her. “So you might as well drink.”

  He stood up and raised a brimming shot glass to his fellow residents, “Leonid Boykov, vechnaya pamyat,” he announced loudly.

  Dinara’s eyes filled anew and she leaned toward me, her voice straining with emotion: “It means let him be remembered forever.”

  Everyone in the room stood, and we all raised our glasses. I joined a chorus of voices who all cried out in unison. “Leonid Boykov, vechnaya pamyat.”

  Let him be remembered forever.

  CHAPTER 81

  GOD WATCHES OVER those who are careful, and death stalks those who are not.

  Maxim Yenen thought about his instructor’s words as he hurried through the private parking lot beneath his apartment building. He’d bought an entire floor of parking spaces and had filled them with one of Russia’s most extensive car collections. His prized pieces included a Bugatti Royale Kellner Coupe, a Jaguar XKSS, and an Alfa Romeo 33 Stradale, but he rarely used anything other than his Bentley Bentayga. His choice was dictated by his security detail. The Bentley SUV and the Range Rovers his bodyguards used had an imposing presence. According to Diak Nesterov, his head of security, the cars were big, heavy and, particularly in the Bentley’s case, fast.