The Case of the General's Thumb by Andréi Kurkov Page B

Coca-Cola balloon, and there, opposite the Central Post Office, the State Vehicle Inspection booth.
    As he left, he glanced at the menu. Apart from sweets, beverages and drinks, one could have chops, chips, chicken and, to his amazement, red caviar pancakes!
    Instead of going to his car, he made his way over to the little enclosure formed by red road barriers, and found that the balloon cable was attached to one of three large gas cylinders. There was no-one keeping an eye on them.
    Carrying on down to the fountains, he crossed to the SVI booth on the other side of the square, to see how conspicuous the balloon was from there. It was, very. He’d done well, he decided. Now to Moscow, to tackle Ivin.
    â€œGo for two days,” said Georgiy, when Viktor phoned him that evening.
    â€œThe tickets will reach you at District tomorrow morning. But if you sense Ivin is involved, arrange to meet again, and come straight back.”
    While waiting for his tickets, Viktor sent for Zanozin, instructing him to check who, on the night of the 20th-21st, was on SVI duty, Independence Square, then interview him.
    He then phoned Ratko and invited him to coffee.
    â€œVery grand all of a sudden! Got sugar?”
    â€œYes, Major.”
    â€œOn my way.”
    Viktor kicked his overnight bag under the table. He had yet to break it to Ratko that he was off to Moscow that evening.

21
    Nik was surprised how much German he remembered. At Berlin Zoo he not only managed to inquire the time of the train to Koblenz, but understood the reply.
    â€œWell?” asked Sakhno, standing with their cases.
    â€œPlatform 2, Track 3, in half an hour.”
    A station cleaner in baggy overalls walked past pushing a little yellow cart. Like the man at the information desk, he was wearing a name tag.
    Watching him, Nik had the curiously detached feeling of a diver lowered into a different world, amongst fish of a fabulous order. All too soon, in a month or so at best, those above would pull on his life line and haul him up. Meanwhile, anything could happen.
    Sakhno grinned.
    â€œWell done. Not your first foray into foreign parts, then?”
    â€œNo, I’ve been to Africa,” said Nik, returning to the surface. “We’d better get going.”
    The train was spotlessly clean, the seats like sofas. At half-hourly intervals a trolley came round with tea, coffee and snacks.
    â€œThough addicted to drink, I still have eyes to see,” Sakhno said, turning to Nik with a smile as the trolley passed. “You got two envelopes from your Polish pal as well as passports. Could they be envelopes of money, and one of them for me?”
    â€œYes, and you shall have it at Koblenz,” promised Nik, thinking uneasily what Sakhno would spend his Deutschmarks on.
    In their room at the Hotel Mauer Sakhno tossed his case onto the bed better placed for the wall-mounted television, and headed for the shower.
    Five minutes later he appeared, wet-haired, carrying two glasses.
    â€œWine or vodka?”
    â€œWine.”
    â€œTo our safe arrival,” he proposed. “Now where’s my envelope?”
    He counted the notes carefully.
    â€œIt’ll do for a start. And more to come, no doubt.”
    He knocked back a second glass, and got into his denim suit, slipping the envelope into a bulging breast pocket.
    â€œYou may as well leave your passports,” Nik suggested. “They won’t get pinched.”
    â€œSod that! What’s mine goes with me! – I’m going for a stroll. See if I can’t find some sausage for supper. You do as you like.”
    â€œHang on, we’re expecting a visit.”
    â€œYou are, not me. You’re duty dog,” he quipped as he went out, banging the door behind him.
    Exhausted and feeling a complete idiot, Nik finished his wine, lay down on Sakhno’s bed, and watching some pop singer, fell asleep.

22
    After a night disturbed first by Ukrainian then by Russian customs