by Dark, Masha
“So it would seem,” she said.
Volsky folded the picture in four and slipped it into his pocket.
“You don’t mind if I take this, do you?”
“Go ahead. I have hundreds,” said Marisa.
Pavel returned to Marisa’s desk, but this time he pulled a seat over and sat down next to her.
“And how does she connect to that sweep?”
“One of my informants says that it was this creature that indicated when and where the bloodsuckers would be meeting. She simply handed them over to us, like the trash.”
“Why would she do that?” Volsky wondered.
“My source doesn’t know. Neither do I,” Marisa replied honestly.
“Strange doings…” Pavel chewed his lip pensively.
Marisa was absorbed in reading the file. It contained the names of individuals who lived in the elite Danderyd district. As Marisa already knew, the brutal murders, which Papa had just entrusted to Special Agent Pavel Volsky, had been committed right on the outskirts of this community. If Marisa hadn’t been so focused on her vampires, she would certainly have been jealous of the fact that Pavel had been assigned the werewolf investigation. Though to be honest, it still remained to be seen if the killer actually was a werewolf; the agents of CRUSS had encountered quite a few talented copy cats over the years. Part of the process involved scrutinizing all there was to know about the gentlemen (and lady) who were on the list compiled by Volsky.
“I don’t care what you say,” smirked Marisa. “They certainly are deserving people.”
The list immediately impressed her with all the flagrantly notorious names. There was the film producer-cum-gangster, Gunnar Otuzan, as well as an aging pop-star – a pedophile with homosexual tendencies, known to the public at large under the name Valencio, but the name on his official passport was Valentin Sidor. Both these personalities occupied the first and second spots, respectively. Lawrence, the owner of a network of bowling lanes, was in position number three. The controversial leader of the Neo-Nazi party, Rudolf Millionov, and the businessman who had plundered half of the region around Ussuriysky in Russia during privatization, Alexander Soigu, rounded off the top five. Numbers six through sixteen held an assortment of less illustrious personages: five bankers, a resourceful business woman who owned an exclusive chocolate boutique, a restaurateur, a CEO of an investment firm…and so on. But the first five were the ones who merited special attention – Volsky had chosen them as the leaders of this list for a reason.
Marisa gave Pavel a level look. He was now chewing his lip with a dramatically indifferent air.
“So, what can I say off the top of my head?” asked Marisa. “Obviously each of these great people should have been weeping in a prison cell a long time ago, some to a greater degree than others, but which one is the suspect?”
“What do you think about the chocolate princess?” Volsky asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” replied Marisa. “She’s a sophisticated, stylish woman…have you tried her chocolate, by the way?”
“You think that a stylish woman can’t be a werewolf?” Volsky frowned. “I haven’t tried her chocolate – it’s too expensive.”
“Well, I don’t know, somehow it doesn’t seem right to me,” Marisa continued her reasoning. “I would sooner suspect that bowling alley swine. But I’ve wanted to visit that chocolate boutique for a long time –I’ve just never managed to. Of course it is expensive, but it is undoubtedly extremely tasty.”
“Well, I suspect them all,” declared Volsky apathetically. “They’re such a sweet little company of bastards… I remember how at the orphanage I dreamed of pigging out on halva… What an idea, a fucking chocolate boutique…”
Marisa’s patience was wearing thin.
“So, dear Pavel, that’s enough of the guessing game,” she said, abruptly closing her laptop. “Why are you hung up on this chocolatier? Do you have any evidence?”
“Have I aroused your curiosity?” Pavel slyly narrowed his eyes.
“Please proceed,” she said.
“So first off, I got some accurate information today about the first murder, thanks to the local police,” said Volsky. “They certainly weren’t lazy. So, this inhuman bastard killed victim number one fourteen months ago. He killed the victim and ate parts of her. It happened in about the same place, there in that wood. Victim number one was a young woman. She lay there all throughout the spring, and the thaw degraded the remains even further. Then there was a vagrant, a jogger – all in the same area, which is typical enough for a serial killer that naturally no one ever considered that this might be our business. Until the information came to Papa. So right now I have eleven corpses. Plus the two you saw today in the pictures.”
“So that means roughly one a month,” concluded Marisa.
“Don’t forget, there could be others,” said Pavel mirthlessly. “Others that we still haven’t found.”
“Of course,” she said seriously. “Do you think this is something ritualistic? Or is it just a man-eater?”
“And why not both?” Volsky ventured. “There’s a curious detail… If you compare the first body with the last two, you get the sense that over time the creature has become even more brutal, as it were… To put in succinctly, if it weren’t for the dental impressions I wouldn’t really believe that the murders were all committed by the same bastard.”
“And you think this bastard is…?”
Marisa waited, looking expectantly at Volsky.
“That’s the wrong question,” grumbled Pavel. “You should have asked: what do the facts tell us? What they tell me is this.” Volsky cleared his throat and then continued: “Last spring…that is, when the first murder was committed, new tenants moved into the community – the Soigu family moved into one of the recently built houses.”
Pavel folded his arms across his chest, evidently waiting for a reaction from Marisa.
“Neatly done,” she commended him. “The whole puzzle practically solves itself. Far from mine, which is all blank and obscure. You’re lucky.”
“That’s for sure,” grinned Volsky. “But that’s not all. I contacted our colleagues in Novosibirsk, where Mr. Soigu lived before he moved to Stockholm. I got loads of intel from them. It turns out that the lads of the local Homicide Division have long been trying to solve a series of maniacal murders that resemble ours. All told, I think it all adds up pretty well.”
“Indeed, thanks to technology,” Marisa interjected.
“What do you mean technology?” Volsky stared at her without comprehension. “I’m simply a genius.”
“I mean email and the internet,” she said, trying to conceal the caustic tone that involuntarily clawed its way into her voice.
“Ah, that’s what you mean,” said Pavel. “Well, of course, it does save time. Twenty years ago I would’ve had to fly to Novosibirsk. But all the same, I’m a genius.”
“You’re a sneak, that’s what you are,” declared Marisa.
“How so?”
Volsky theatrically raised his arms to the side. Marisa suddenly thought about how attractive his arms were and how wide his shoulders were and in general how gorgeous his whole body was. Pavel was built like a Greek god, and he knew how to make use of it when he wanted to. He knew just how to sit to show off his splendid body and that was while he was still wearing a suit. Although…Marisa had seen Pavel a few times at the gym in shorts and a tank top, and now her head was persistently circling the thought – how did he look without any clothes at all?
“You expressly framed all this so that it would get my utmost attention,” Marisa said.
She hoped that she had managed to stifle her agitation, and that her voice did not give away her underlying emotions.
“And now this werewolf of yours won’t leave me in peace.”
Pavel smiled innocently. Oh yeah, he was pretty! Marisa nearly choked on a suddenly inflated wave of desire. Her weariness vanished as if by magic. What was happening to her? She’d thought
that her adolescent crush on that unattainable Adonis had evaporated long ago, as these things usually did when you grew up.
“We can fix this problem,” said Pavel.
But her crush really had passed…it had passed and now it was being born anew, but this was of a different character altogether. Marisa no longer desired romantic evenings in front of a burning fireplace, candlelit dinners and sweet love songs. What she longed for now was just some physical intimacy with this man. ‘Physical intimacy’ – until she collapsed from exhaustion…. For a second she imagined herself in his strong embrace.
“How?” asked Marisa, licking suddenly dry lips.
“It’s simple. Come be my partner, and together we’ll bite that werewolf in the ass.”
Right now I’d rather bite you the ass, thought Marisa, but aloud she said, “And what about your boys?”
“I’ll pass the reins of control over to someone else,” said Volsky. “To Arvid, for example. He’s talented enough.”
“Tell me something, Pavel,” said Marisa. “When did you first notice me? It was after Ruslan and I solved that cold case with the shaman, right?”
“You solved that shaman case,” Pavel asserted harshly. “You alone. Your Ruslan had nothing to do with it.”
“Volsky, stop,” she said. “You know I hate it when you say stuff like that.”
“And you know my opinion on this subject,” insisted Pavel.
“And you know mine,” retorted Marisa.
“And I always said that the broken horse carries the load.” Volsky insisted on having his way.
Marisa was about to retort yet again, but Volsky forestalled her with a wave of his hand, letting her know that she shouldn’t interrupt him.
“Now it’s your turn to tell me something,” said Pavel. “Why exactly did you call me tonight?”
“Because you’re the best,” she confessed honestly.
“We’re both the best,” corrected Volsky. “We should be partners.”
Marisa was gradually regaining the power to reason soberly, but this was a hundred and eighty degrees from what she’d been thinking about. She didn’t really know how to react to something like this.
“Well, I don’t know,” said Marisa vaguely. “You’re so brilliant, and you always seemed to manage just fine without any help. What use would I be to you? And there’s also the fact that you’ve always said you don’t need a partner – you like to head up teams. You have an administrative mentality.”
“People change under the influence of circumstances,” parried Volsky. “It’s possible that it’s time to change the way I work. And if I must choose a partner, that partner had better be the best. Clever, bright, unorthodox. I’ve been searching for my potential partner for some time –and it seems that I’ve finally found that person. That’s you, Marisa.”
“It just seems that way to you?” chuckled Marisa.
“Don’t parse my words, damn it,” Volsky grimaced. “You understand what I’m talking about.”
“For the unorthodox, of course, thank you,” replied Marisa. “But…”
“What, you have doubts?” Pavel said, getting angry.
“And you thought I’d be so happy I’d fall down at your feet, didn’t you,” Marisa said acidly. “Rus was my friend, don’t you get it? It’s possible that he wasn’t the best at everything, but we’ve known – knew – each other since childhood. I have no idea how it would be for me to work with you, the best.”
“You can’t make an omelette without breaking any eggs,” said Volsky. “Let’s give it a try.”
“Listen, you’re talking about this as if it was all up to us!” she exclaimed. “Presto, and it’s all worked out. We would have to inform Papa. I doubt he’ll be overly enthusiastic at your sudden decision to change everything.”
“Well, first of all, it’s not sudden,” objected Pavel. “And secondly, I talked to Papa today. And anyway, there won’t be any displacement from this rearrangement, no change in the number of agents we have, but the quality will change.”
“What did you talk about?” Marisa asked, deliberately misunderstanding.
“About you,” explained Volsky. “About you and me.”
“Already?”
Marisa gaped at Pavel in astonishment. He responded with the slightly complacent smile of an insufferable smart ass.
“So that means it was all arranged before dinner– I’ve been married off without my consent!” she continued. “Everything was worked out in advance and you even managed to wear Papa down. Well, aren’t you a crafty one.”
“As I recall, ten minutes ago I was a sneak.”
Marisa’s breath once again caught in her throat from his gaze.
“You’re both,” breathed Marisa.
Volsky continued to pierce her with his eyes.
“Agree, Marisa,” he said after a short pause. “You need me.”
Why not go for it? thought Marisa. If she started to work with Volsky, she would get him, for the time being, and what was more, she’d get a very promising case, a chance to solve a prestigious matter that was unlike the dead ducks she was working on now. To be sure, Marisa had not given up hope of nabbing both the fugitive vampire princess and the viper who killed Ruslan. But right now she didn’t have any leads. The werewolf loomed in front of her, showing her the way to rapid advancement in the ranks. If she closed an investigation like that she’d get to have a merit review, which might, probably would, reclassify her from a mere special agent of CRUSS to a special agent in charge. This was a step forward, a real breakthrough, with all the attendant opportunities and challenges. And what special agent didn’t dream of rising through the ranks? Marisa was no exception to that rule.
“Well then, partner,” she said. “Tell me about our plans for tomorrow.”
“I didn’t doubt you,” Volsky said brightly, rubbing his hands together. “So, I’m of the opinion that, regardless of our intense desire to go after Soigu, first of all we have to clear the remaining top five.”
“Yes, obviously, because they’re the next best thing to bloodsuckers and man-eaters,” said Marisa, smirking cynically. “Listen, doesn’t Soigu have a wife, a writer or something?”
“Yes indeed,” Pavel nodded. “She wrote Harmonia praestabilita. It’s one of those books about the life, love and tears of the wealthy Barbie dolls. A friend of mine said she couldn’t put it down.”
“And just how old is your friend?” Marisa asked. “Is she still in grade school?”
“Don’t be nasty,” Volsky said dismissively. “Not everyone reads Proust. People like simpler fare. The title, of course, is sticky with pretension. But the contents are simple enough – true to life. All in all, people lap it up. Also, a TV series of the same title is coming out soon. I recently saw a banner-ad online – ‘adapted from Stella Soigu’s bestseller …”
“Are all the suspects in Stockholm right now?” interrupted Marisa, who knew that Pavel’s verbosity was not always relevant to the case.
“Lawrence is in here,” Volsky instantaneously changed the current of his thoughts. “Otuzan and Soigu are as well. Millionov is due to fly in from St. Petersburg tomorrow. But Valencio has been on tour for the past two weeks. He’ll return a month from now.”
“I see. Who should we begin with?”
Marisa was already thinking about tomorrow’s visits. But at the same time she also was trying to figure out what she could manage to accomplish tonight.
“I think we should start with Lawrence,” Pavel replied. “We’ll surprise him in his bowling alley early in the morning. From him we’ll go directly to Soigu’s house. As for the others, we’ll do each as they come. We might need to fly all the way out to Sakhalin to catch up with Sidor.”
“Okay,” said Marisa. “I’ll go delve into our compendiums on werewolves. I read about demons all day today, but this is a completely different subject. I need to bone up on my knowledge of werewolves a bit.”
And to remind him about his offer
to drive me home, Marisa thought to herself.
“You’re gonna bone a werewolf?” asked Volsky and he chuckled softly.
“Ha,” said Marisa, but the word ‘bone’ echoed in her head.
And instantly the image of Ruslan rose up in Marisa’s mind’s eye. His remains were spread out inside the glass box. Who would have thought that smallpox could so disfigure his body, that it could transform Ruslan into a disgusting, skeletal carcass, that it could flay the skin from his bones…
Marisa stood up from behind her desk. All desire fled from her, disappearing under the weight of a dull sensation mixed with self-loathing.
“I’m leaving,” she said dismally. “I’m going to spend the night here. I’ll try to get some sleep, even if it’s just an hour or two.”
Pavel also got up from his chair. Marisa had already walked to the door.
“Wait a moment, are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”
Marisa turned towards Volsky.
“Thanks, Pavel,” she said, somehow forcing a smile. “I’ll just bed down in the stacks somewhere.”
“Well, as you wish,” said Volsky. “See you tomorrow.”
Marisa was enormously grateful that he did not add the word ‘partner’.
2.
Death is sufficiently close that it is possible not to dread life.
Friedrich Nietzsche
“It’s strange,” said Vasilisa, glancing in the direction of the Jacuzzi with apprehension.
Dalana, who was occupying the space in front of the mirror, was once again changing her appearance; this time she was turning herself into a bobbed, red-headed corporate assistant. She planned to spend the entire day in this guise of a mid-level employee. Her make-up was light, and she was wearing no jewelry at all. She was an ordinary woman, a little bit tired, a little bit harassed. Soon Dalana planned to get her hands on an appropriate car – foreign made but simple, without frills. Last night she had abandoned the SUV she had stolen the day before, about three blocks from her apartment.
“Yes indeed…strange,” repeated Vasilisa.
She was standing there keeping watch over Dalana’s latest manipulation of her appearance.
