Secret Target

9

Elena Petelina could not shake the burdensome impression that her as of yet fruitless interrogation of Inna Maltseva had made on her. The chief suspect in the brutal murder had not answered a single question. She had clammed up and stared at the detective as if Petelina were some news anchor, speaking an alien language on the TV. Where was her mind? What was she thinking about? Why didn’t she try to defend herself? At one point, the semblance of a smile had softened her tightly pursed lips. That was when Elena had asked her about the little girl’s photograph in her purse. Elena had clutched at this straw but, try as she might, not a single peep had followed.

Someone rapped on the door. Detective Petelina turned away from the window, instinctively adjusted her cardigan and fixed her hair. In the doorway stood a heavyset, forty-five year old man in a mackintosh, an ascot and large glasses with thick frames.

«Arkady Borisovich Krasin, psychiatrist,» the doctor introduced himself. His was the signature on Inna Maltseva’s prescription. «You wished to see me?»

«Please come in, Dr. Krasin.»

The psychiatrist noticed the coat rack and took off his mackintosh, unveiling a tweed jacket with ornamental elbow patches.

«May I?» he indicated the armchair next to the desk.

Elena nodded and Krasin sat down. From behind his glasses, his clingy gaze traversed across the desk and down to the detective’s feet; it clambered its way up the detective’s figure and stuck intently to her face. Petelina found herself the subject of an unabashed examination by a pair of hazel, half-squinted eyes. She began to feel uncomfortable: She was accustomed to observing the faces and mental states of her guests – not vice versa. Petelina sat down behind her desk, shuffled some papers, opened and closed a drawer and adjusted her laptop’s screen.

«Please, feel yourself at ease, Detective Petelina,» Krasin said graciously.

Okay, this is too far!

The detective shut her laptop and looked defiantly at the psychiatrist.

«I’d like to remind you that it was I who invited you here and not the other way around,» she said.

Krasin leaned back in his chair and let a smile ooze across his face.

«Your uniform flatters you. I like women in uniform. The female body in a male guise connotes a volatile admixture of emotion and reason. Two opposing elements and which will be victorious remains an open question.»

Petelina made a show of turning on the voice recorder and rattled off in an icy voice:

«I am more interested in a different kind of question. I called you, Dr. Krasin, to discuss a patient of yours with you.»

«I am all ears.» The psychiatrist leaned forward officiously. «Whom do you have in mind?»

Elena could clearly make out his aquiline nose with its prominent bridge which looked custom made to support the glasses resting on it. Or had his toucan’s beak evolved to accommodate the hefty frames’ tectonic pressure?

«Inna Maltseva.»

«Inna… is not a simple case.»

«How long have you known her?»

«About three months. I was treating her for depression.»

«Is her affliction related to her familial relationships?»

«Yes and no.»

«Could you explain what you mean, please?»

«I am a doctor. For me, the physician-patient privilege is sacro – »

«Inna Maltsev is the main suspect in a brutal murder.»

Krasin threw up his hands.

«I am aware of the horrible tragedy that has occurred in her family. It is a very sad – »

«How did you find out?» the detective latched on.

«He husband, Dmitry, called me. He was cursing, accusing me of being unprofessional, that kind of thing. Tell me, did Inna really commit such a horrible act?»

«Let’s not change the subject, Dr. Krasin. Please answer my questions. And so, what were the symptoms of Mrs. Maltseva’s depression?»

«Please understand that in our society, people go to the psychiatrist as a last resort – they are at the end of the line and have nowhere else to turn. More often than not, their relatives force them to take this step. Accordingly, Inna’s husband first brought her to me.»

«Did you know him prior to that?»

«No. One of his acquaintances recommended me to him. Word of mouth is the best advertisement for a doctor. For a lawyer too, by the way. As for a detective… Well, obviously your clients aren’t exactly eager to find you.»

«Unfortunately, I am not lacking in clients.»

«You know, me too,» Krasin laughed. «What is happening to this country!»

«I would like to know the cause of Inna Maltseva’s depression.»

«That is a sad topic. Inna was being treated for a long time. Not by me, but by an OB/GYN. She was diagnosed with recurrent pregnancy loss. This disease causes systematic early-term miscarriages due to genetic errors. Do you have children Detective Petelina?» Krasin asked suddenly.

«We are talking about Mrs. Maltseva at the moment,» the detective reminded the psychiatrist yet again.

«Of course.» Krasin splayed out his palms before himself in a peacemaking gesture. «You know, I am happy to see a woman in charge of this case. A reasonable woman. You will understand Inna’s condition better than a man would. I am sure that you have a child. Just one. Did I guess correctly? A girl, most likely. A lovely girl who resembles her mother, who loves her very much. Now, imagine that the daughter vanishes. Dies!»

Elena started. Even though twelve-year-old Nastya would sometimes get sick, Elena refused to ask for medical leave. Of course, the grandmother lived right next door, but last winter when Nastya came down with a 104 degree fever…

«I’m not interested in discussing this.» Elena stood up from her desk, noisily scooting back the chair.

The psychiatrist seemed satisfied with her extreme response.

«And here are the emotions! You are uncomfortable, anxious – though I only mentioned death in passing, without going into detail. But Inna lost her child four times. Four times! She sensed and witnessed their deaths with her own eyes. Her own body took part in the deaths of her children, rejected her fruits like something alien and she could do nothing about it. Nothing! Can you imagine?»

The psychiatrist fell silent. Elena recalled her own fears during her pregnancy. Her stomach whined.

«Inna has an obsessive fantasy of having a child. It is, unfortunately, impossible,» continued Krasin in a calm voice. «This is the cause for her depression. I tried to remove this dependence, but… Hers is a very difficult case.»

Elena returned to her desk and forced herself to go on with her work.

«Did Mrs. Maltseva suffer from nervous breakdowns or sudden fits of rage?»

«Who doesn’t?» smirked the psychiatrist. «I just observed one myself…»

«Did you come here to piss me off?»

«Honestly?»

«I don’t advise lying to a detective.»

«This is my method Detective Petelina. Mere talk does not suffice in helping one understand a person’s internal world. One must compel the subject to lose its cool. Induce stress and one may observe the psychosomatic state of the individual – as plainly as with an MRI. Then, the psychic pressure points are revealed and one may press on them as one wills. Or, if the opposite effect is desired, one may apply pressure to the areas of tranquility and appeasement and thereby return the subject to a state of psychic equilibrium.»

Elena realized that she herself had resorted to such methods during her interrogations. She smiled.

«And what did you learn about me?»

«You have a strong personality. I don’t envy your suspects.»

«And yet you yourself seem intent on becoming one.»

«What?» a touch of anxiety flashed across the psychiatrist’s eyes.

«You will find very interesting people to talk to in our holding cell, Dr. Krasin. There’s enough material there for several monographs.»

Krasin snorted several times, nervously imitating laughter.

«I understand. A professional jest.»

«If you understand, then please start answering my questions. I asked you about Inna Maltseva’s fits of rage.»

«The prescription is lying right there in front of you, Detective Petelina. It is for a very potent substance, but one that is absolutely justified in this case. If Inna was taking her pills regularly, loss of control would have been impossible. But if she forgot a dose, her organism may have rebelled. Unfortunately, I can only ensure that the medicine is being taken at the in-patient facility. Mrs. Maltseva stayed with us for two weeks. After that, I monitored her only as an outpatient.»

«Okay, let’s assume she missed a dose. What then?»

«Depends on the circumstances. Though, her illness predisposes her more to making a scene.»

«Did you talk to Dmitry Maltsev regularly?»

«Naturally. It is impossible to improve a person’s mental condition without familiarizing oneself with their family and surroundings.»

«And what was the relationship like between husband and wife?»

«It was fractured. But it could not have been otherwise. They had to deal with the endless attempts to get pregnant followed by the struggle to keep the baby, culminating each time with failure.»

«Take a look at this photograph.» Elena offered Krasin the photo of the three-year-old girl. «Do you recognize this girl?»

«No. I’ve never seen her before.»

«Mrs. Maltseva had it in her purse.»

The psychiatrist became pensive.

«A strong, obsessive idea always manifests as something concrete. It is possible that Inna imagines that her unborn child looks exactly like this girl. It is vital for her to have a real image of her fantasy. As for the photo itself, she could have found it anywhere.»

«We discovered Mrs. Maltseva beside the body. Everything points to her guilt. She behaved calmly, maintaining that she did not kill her husband, but as soon as she saw that the dead man wasn’t him, she fainted. She hasn’t said a word today. She refuses to speak.»

«Did you take her medicine away?»

«Yes. She is not allowed to have it in the holding cell with her.»

«You cannot leave Inna without her medicine,» Krasin began to fret.

«I can have her transferred to the prison hospital.»

«God no! Do you know what kind of doctors are working there? There aren’t any psychiatrists there, are there? I hypothesize that, due to severe stress, Inna’s memory has blocked out any horrible recollections. Even with the help of medicine, you won’t get anything out of her.»

«What should we do then?»

Krasin entwined his fingers self-importantly and furrowed his brow.

«There is one surefire way to bring someone back to reality.»

«What’s that?»

«Hypnosis.»

The detective looked at the psychiatrist incredulously.

«Yes, that’s right, hypnosis. Hypnosis alleviates fear and dismantles internal barriers that the unconscious mind uses to defend itself. The subject becomes truthful and regains its memory. Hypnosis is a form of treatment. I tried a couple sessions with Inna. They yielded favorable results.»

«Interesting.» Elena traced a large spiral with her pencil on the sheet of paper before her. When her mind was occupied with something, she would often draw mindless doodles that would surreptitiously depict her state of mind. At the moment, Elena remembered that hypnosis – as a method of influencing a person’s psyche in order to bring their memory back – had long since been used by the special services of the developed world. It had been employed in Moscow as well, just not in her division.

She decided to risk it:

«And if I were to ask you to perform a session here, in my presence? What would you say?»

Krasin looked around.

«I think we can easily do it right here in your office.»

«When?»

«Detective Petelina, I am a busy person – as are you. Since I am already here, why put it off?»

10

Marat Valeyev noticed his partner’s large figure a block before the intersection. He braked and waited while Mayorov crammed himself into the passenger seat.

«How did the train welcome go?» asked the captain.

«The car attendant recognized Dmitry Maltsev. At the time of the murder, he was on the train getting drunk.»

«He did more of the same on the return leg. I’ve already delivered the flabby product of last night’s libations to Petelina.»

«Why waste all that money on tickets?» sighed Vanya recalling his unenviable salary. He noticed that the captain was not heading back to the division. «Where to now?»

«Back to our former haunts. We never found that janitor, remember.»

«Oh. Man, the Noose just doesn’t let up, does she? Other operatives don’t even have to go to the crime scenes. They’re allowed to stay in the office writing reports – »

«It’s Detective Petelina to you. Got it?» Marat would have preferred it if Lena Gracheva, the valedictorian of his class, had remained Gracheva, instead of getting hitched with Sergey Petelin, with whom he used to scuffle in school.

«What are you getting on my case about? Have you any idea how they bitch about her back at the Investigative Committee? She’s constantly setting back deadlines, requesting additional tests and ordering field operatives to go here and there, back and forth…»

«She may order us around, but it’s for a good reason. As for deadlines, the entire reason we’re going to find the janitor right now is to speed things up. Oh, and did you not get an award last quarter?»

«Yeah, something like that.»

«There you have it. And thanks to whom? Petelina!»

«I didn’t even understand how we got so many merits.»

«A detective gets merits on his record for each criminal case that goes to court, but us operatives get them for each episode. Episodes constitute individual crimes that may all be a part of just one case. Whomever the detective decides to give the merits to gets the golden goose. Remember how we nabbed that gang that stole the gasoline from the oil refinery?»

«Yeah, we followed them and got them as they were about to fence it.»

«The total recovered damages in that case amounted to five million. We divide that into one hundred episodes at fifty thousand per – and that’s how you got all those merits on your record.»

«Huh.»

«You should always try to be friends with your detective, Vanya.»

«I mean, I have nothing against her. Only, she’s obsessed with this coat. And yet the whole thing is so obvious. We discovered Maltseva at the scene of the crime and the Tadpole got all the evidence we could need. All we have to do is lean on her a bit and she’ll crack. Why waste time talking to Tajik janitors?»

«Because I can’t say no to a pretty woman, Vanya. I’m simply incapable of it.»

Mayorov was ready to submit a different paragon when it came to female beauty. A more striking, younger one with gracious curves in the right places. To that end, he had asked for the attendant’s address on purpose. Now, he would have a good reason to stop by the passport desk and ask Galya Nesterova whether the woman with the bruise really did reside at the address she had given him. He would bring some chocolate with him. Or maybe a rose? Flowers, of course, would be a better idea, but he was a little frightened. If a man gives a woman flowers, he is effectively confessing his love. Maybe if it was Galya’s birthday, it would be okay. How could he find out when she was born?

It was as if Valeyev had read his younger colleague’s mind.

«I remembered what I said to Galya from the passport desk yesterday, Vanya.»

«What?» Mayorov turned his entire, ample frame to face the captain.

«„Now or never.“»

«Tell me now – why wait?»

«I already told you.»

«I don’t understand.»

«That’s what I told her: „Now or never!“»

Vanya’s eyes went round; his mouth opened a little. More than a minute went by before he exhaled.

«Why?»

«First thing that came to mind. So I said it.»

«But what does it mean?»

«Now means now! And never…» the captain flourished his hand vaguely in the air. «We will catch the culprit… now or never.»

«Are you sure that that’s how Galya understood it?»

«Well, we were on our way to a murder, weren’t we?»

«But Galya didn’t know that!»

«Yes, a misunderstanding… Well, you know what they say: From each according to his ability, to each according to his depravity.»

Vanya recalled the fiery look that Galya had cast after the captain and felt a tinge of sadness:

«I think that she thought something entirely different.»

Valeyev turned into the driveway to the Maltsevs’ apartment building and instantly spied the janitor in the courtyard.

«Well, speak of the devil. Come on Vanya – time for you to practice your Tajik.»

«Me?»

«Yeah you. What are you sitting there for? If we both go, we’ll scare him. You’re the more diplomatic one here.»

Valeyev sat back, relaxed and enjoyed a cigarette, watching the 240-lbs. «diplomat» variously and valiantly attempt to explain to the cowed and skinny janitor exactly what was wanted of him.

At last, the time came for the senior officer to involve himself.

«Come over here, brother.» Valeyev clapped the janitor on the shoulder. In the next instant, the captain went bug-eyed and thrust forth his neck in simulated rage. «If you don’t hand over that coat this instant, I’ll send you back home to Central Asia first thing tomorrow morning. To your motherland. And after that, you’ll never get back into Russia again. Ever!»

The sacred words «Russia» and «motherland» had a profound effect on the janitor. Five minutes later, the operatives were digging through a pile of clothes in the building’s basement, while the janitor regaled them with a haphazard tale about wealthy residents who throw away «completely new thing,» insolent bums with «completely no shame,» and a strict supervisor who «completely does not talk quietly.»

The operatives did not part with «Completely Completovich» empty-handed.

11

Inna Maltseva looked relaxed. Her eyes were closed and she was reclining in her chair with her arms lying limply on the armrests. Dr. Krasin held an open hand to Inna’s forehead, while his other hand supported the back of her head. His long nose was almost touching her temple and he was speaking to her in a soft and poignant voice.

«Inna, you can feel the warmth from my hands spread through you. Your fear lets go of you and you begin to feel better and better. There is nothing that has happened in your life that cannot be fixed. A minor nuisance has occurred. We are here to help you figure out and extricate you out of this situation. On the count of three, I want you to open your eyes and look at the woman before you. She is your friend. You must be honest with her. Don’t hide anything. She will help you.»

Krasin counted to three and traced a circle with his palm in front of the patient’s face. Maltseva’s eyes opened.

«You may ask your questions,» the psychiatrist whispered to the detective.

Petelina was sitting across the table from Maltseva. She brought her palms together pensively in front of her pursed lips and watched her enter hypnosis. Inna had changed. She looked like a guileless, infinitely weary woman now. Her wide-open, clear eyes awaited Petelina’s help.

Elena slowly lowered her arms and surreptitiously turned on the voice recorder. She tried to formulate her questions as tactfully as she could.

«Inna, do you remember what happened yesterday evening?»

«Yes, of course.»

«Tell me, please, what were you doing?»

«I was waiting.»

There was a pause. Maltseva’s gaze became foggy. It became evident that she was submerging herself in her memories.

«Were you waiting for an opportune moment?» the detective tried to lead her.

«Yes.»

«What was supposed to happen then?»

«I wanted to approach unnoticed.»

«Approach whom?»

«The person I wanted to kill.»

«Did you plan out the murder beforehand?»

«Yes.»

«Did you plan how you were going to do it?»

«I did.»

Petelina could not believe that Maltseva would so stubbornly ruin herself and rephrased the question:

«Try and think hard before answering, Inna: Did you want the person to die as a result of your actions?»

«Of course,» Maltseva answered naïvely.

Elena pursed her lips in disappointment. Murder in the first degree was far removed from the charge she had planned on for this poor woman who was so tormented by her impossible desire to have a child. Article 5, Section 1—murder in the first – provided for 6—15 years’ imprisonment, whereas Article 107—manslaughter in the heat of passion – entailed a maximum of up to 3 years. Meanwhile, if the court decided that Maltseva had acted with excessive cruelty, then she could even be charged under Article 104, Section 2. Then, if she was found guilty of that, she could be given life.

Elena was overcome with compassion. The psychiatrist had been right when he had remarked that her investigations vacillated between the cliffs of reason and the waves of emotion. Waves could erode the jagged edges to softness, but only rock could ensure a stable footing. Elena had to cast aside emotion and discover the truth. She had to present it in the form of clear evidence and submit it for the court’s decision. That was her job. Feelings during an investigation could only get in the way of that.

«Tell me how you put your plan into action,» Petelina asked more coldly, already anticipating the answer. The image of the crime and the murder weapon – the hair-plastered cleaver – did not leave much room to the imagination.

«I came up from behind.»

«Unnoticed?»

«Yes.»

«Go on. You came up from behind and…»

«And fired.»

Fired?! The word, pronounced so quietly, had the effect of a real gunshot.

Petelina recoiled and looked quizzically at the psychiatrist. Krasin remained unperturbed. He scribbled something on a piece of paper and passed it to the detective. Elena read: «In a state of hypnosis, she is unable to make anything up.»

The detective looked at Maltseva. The woman had an open and earnest expression on her face devoid of the slightest smirk or shade of cunning. She had given her reply and was simply waiting for the next question.

Had she told the truth then? But that was impossible!

«Inna, let’s try this again, from the beginning. You decided to commit a murder. You approached your victim from behind. And then? Do you remember the gunshot clearly?»

«Yes.»

«Then you must have the weapon somewhere.»

«The gun.» Maltseva looked at her hand, raised it and extended her index finger. «I fired. Like this.»

Inna bent her finger. Her hand jumped from the recoil and dropped to her knee.

Elena could not understand what was happening. Anton Maltsev had been killed with a cleaver – the autopsy had confirmed it. There was no handgun! There were no bullets! What the hell was the suspect talking about?

Petelina glanced at the voice recorder and mechanically asked her next question:

«Where did you aim your shot?»

«At her head. I fired and she fell.»

«She?!»