no end to ?find the murderer? for the baboon named Lev Antonin and bring him the freshly cut head, but no, he was to be denied this pleasure. He scowled when Tarkanian told him that Tarkanian himself would find and deliver the ?murderer? to Antonin.
?To take the fury out of your heart, I have another assignment for you,? Tarkanian told him. ?A much more important job that only you can do.?
?I strongly suspect he doubted that very much,? Tarkanian told Arkadin later, ?but when he heard what I wanted him to do a smirk spread across his face. Poor bastard, he couldn?t help it.?
Tarkanian needed someone to bring to Lev Antonin. But not just anyone?he had to look like a murderer. Moving through the twilit streets of Nizhny Tagil, Tarkanian scoured the bars for a likely victim. Now and again he was forced to sidestep puddles as big as small ponds, caused by the deluge that had only recently been reduced to a light mist. As it had been since dawn the claustrophobically low sky was a dull gray, but now it was marred here and there by bruises of yellow and lavender, as if the storm had brutalized the day.
Tarkanian parked himself outside the most raucous of bars and lit a harsh Turkish cigarette, pulling the smoke deep into his lungs and exhaling it in a gray cloud as thick as those above his head. Night gathered around him like an acolyte as the drunken laughter spilled out to him, along with the shattering of glass and the chunky exhalations of a fistfight. A moment later a big man, bleeding from the nose and several cuts on his face, staggered out onto the sidewalk.
As he bent over, hands on knees, wheezing and retching, Tarkanian ground out his cigarette under his boot heel, walked over, and delivered a vicious chop to the exposed back of the man?s neck. The drunk pitched forward, hitting his forehead on the pavement with a satisfying smack.
Tarkanian grabbed him under the arms and pulled him into the alley. If any passersby noticed what he was up to none of them gave the slightest indication. All of them hurried on about their business without even a glance in his direction. Life in Nizhny Tagil had trained them to ignore anything that wasn?t their business. It was the only way to keep healthy in this city.
In the deepening shadows of the stinking alley, Tarkanian checked his watch. There was no way to contact Oserov; he?d just have to hope he?d accomplished his part of the plan.
Fifteen minutes later he walked into a bakery and bought the largest layer cake in the glass case. Back in the alley, he dumped the cake and, lifting the man?s severed head by his beer- and blood-damp hair, placed it carefully in the cake box. The glassy eyes stared blankly back at him until he lowered the lid.
Across town he was admitted to Lev Antonin?s office, where the boss was still guarded by his seven heavily armed goons.
?Lev Antonin, as promised I brought you a present,? he said as he placed the box on Antonin?s desk. On the way over, it had grown surprisingly heavy.
Antonin looked from him to the box, evincing little enthusiasm. Signaling to one of his bodyguards, he had him open the box. Then he stood up and peered inside.
?Who the fuck is this?? he asked.
?The murderer.?
?What?s his name??
?Mikhail Gorbachev,? Tarkanian said sardonically, ?how the hell should I know??
Antonin?s face was particularly ugly when he smirked. ?If you don?t know his name, how d?you know he?s the one??
?I caught him in the act,? Tarkanian said. ?He had broken into your house, he was about to kill your wife and children.?
Antonin?s face darkened and, snatching up the phone, he dialed a number. His face relaxed somewhat when he heard his wife?s voice.
?Are you all right? Is everyone safe?? He frowned. ?What do you mean? What?? Who the fuck is this? Where?s my wife?? His face had grown dark again and he looked at Tarkanian. ?What the fuck is going on??
Tarkanian kept his voice calm and even. ?Your family is safe, Lev Antonin, and they?ll remain safe as long as I have free passage to take Arkadin. If you interfere in any way??
?I?ll surround the house, my men will break in??
?And your wife and three children will die.?
Antonin whipped out a Stechkin handgun and aimed it at Tarkanian. ?I?ll shoot you right here where you stand, and I promise your death