Wolves Eat Dogs by Martin Cruz Smith Page B

boys.”
    “And Pasha?”
    “President of the club.”
    “Rina straightened him out,” Kuzmitch said.
    “If I could meet a woman like Rina, I would settle down, too,” said Maximov. “As it is, all this wine, women and song could be fatal.”
    “Where were you when you heard about Pasha’s death?” Arkady asked.
    “I was playing squash. My trainer will tell you. I sat down on the floor of the court and cried.”
    Kuzmitch said, “I was in Hong Kong. I immediately flew back out of concern for Rina.”
    “All these questions. It was suicide, wasn’t it?” Maximov said.
    “Tragically, yes.” Zurin slipped up to the table. He held Zhenya firmly by the shoulder. “My office looked into matters, but there was no reason for an investigation. Just a tragic event.”
    “Then why…” Kuzmitch glanced at Arkady.
    “Thoroughness. But I think I can assure you, there will no more questions now. Could you excuse us, please? I need a word with my investigator.”
    “Istanbul,” Kuzmitch reminded Arkady.
    “Give this man a day off,” Maximov told Zurin. “He’s working too hard.”
    The prosecutor steered Arkady away. “Having a good time? How did you get in?”
    “I was invited, me and my friend.” Arkady took Zhenya.
    “To ask questions and spread rumors?”
    “You know what rumor I heard?”
    “What would that be?” Zurin kept Arkady and Zhenya moving.
    “I heard they made you a company director. They found you a chair in the boardroom, and now you’re earning your keep.”
    Zurin steered Arkady a little faster. “Now you’ve done it. Now you’ve gone too far.”
    Ozhogin caught up and gripped Arkady’s shoulder with a wrestler’s thumb that pressed to the bone. “Renko, you’ll have to learn manners if you ever want to work for NoviRus Security.” The colonel patted Zhenya on the head, and Zhenya clenched Arkady’s hand in a hard little knot.
    “How dare you come here?” Zurin demanded.
    “You told me to ask questions.”
    “Not at a charity event.”
    “You know the disk that Hoffman was holding out on us?” Ozhogin let Arkady peek at a shiny CD.
    “Ah, that must be it,” Arkady said. “Are you breaking arms today, or legs?”
    “Your investigation is over,” Zurin said. “To sneak into a party and drag in some homeless boy is inexcusable.”
    “Does this mean I will be reassigned?”
    “This means disciplinary action,” Zurin said wearily, as if setting down a heavy stone. “This means you’re done.”
    Arkady felt done. He also felt he might have gone a little too far with Zurin. Even sellouts had their pride.
    Back he and Zhenya went, away from the circle of important men, past the cosmonauts, cotton candy and smoky grills, the telegenic faces and blue llamas and aliens on stilts. A rocket shot up from the tennis court, rose high into the blue sky and exploded into a shower of paper flowers. By the time the last of the petals had drifted down, Arkady and Zhenya were out the gate. Meanwhile, Bobby Hoffman was waiting at Arkady’s car, stuffing a bloody nose with a handkerchief, head tilted back to protect the jacket bequeathed him by Ivanov.
     
    On the drive, Zhenya regarded Arkady with a narrow gaze. Arkady had gone with dizzying speed from the heights of New Russia to a boot out the door. This descent was swift enough to get even Zhenya’s attention.
    “What’s going to happen?” Hoffman asked.
    “Who knows? A new career. I studied law at Moscow University, maybe I can become a lawyer. Do you see me as a lawyer?”
    “Ha!” Hoffman thought for a second. “It’s funny, but there’s one thing about you that reminds me of Pasha. You’re not as smart, God knows, but you share a quality. You couldn’t tell whether he found things funny or sad. More like he felt, What the hell? Especially toward the end.”
    Arkady asked Zhenya, “Is that good, to share qualities with a dead man?” Zhenya pursed his lips. “It depends? I agree.”
    Zhenya hadn’t eaten. They