Agent’s Revenge. Novel

Semyon readied the camera hanging around his neck. He drew the curtain and switched on the light. He was used to executing assignments precisely, missing nothing.

While Semyon prepared, Gela and Koba managed to undress and, demonstratively for the camera — it was clear this wasn’t their first time — tore the chemise and underwear off Nino. They raped the girl professionally; the positions were the most lewd, the collective staged sex sophisticated.

The scenes of «hot sex» with Nino, played out for the camera, lasted ten to fifteen minutes. Semyon worked professionally, shooting from the necessary angles, repeating shots to ensure maximum pornography. Nino’s face, her body, and the genitals of Gela and Koba were always in the frame, but their bodies — and especially their faces — were not. Raping the mother was not part of the «program,» but after finishing the shoot, Semyon let his assistants play with Nino while he, deciding the mother was also a fine option, proceeded to rape her brutally, without even undressing. To prevent the women from waking prematurely, they soaked the handkerchiefs with chloroform from the jar several times. The women did not move.

After dressing and checking that no evidence remained on the bed or floor, they took the chloroform and handkerchiefs, switched off the light, opened the window, and left — tossing the torn remnants of Nino’s underwear in the hallway. They simply pulled the front door shut without locking it, just in case help was needed, as killing the women was not part of the task.

Waking from the anesthesia, Nino did not immediately understand what had happened. She felt nauseous; everything ached — her head, her body. Not understanding the situation, Nino didn’t even notice at first that she was completely naked. In the morning light, she saw her mother lying motionless, uncovered by the blanket, her nightgown torn. Only then did Nino realize what had occurred. Coming to her senses and sensing disaster, Nino began to shake her mother, trying to wake her. Her mother would not wake, and Nino realized that something irreparable had happened. She began to scream and call for help, instinctively covering her nakedness with her hands.

Frightened neighbors — a mother and daughter — ran in at the sound of the screams. The house was filled with the characteristic smell of chloroform. The neighbor, not understanding what had happened, tried to ask Nino, but the girl was in a state of shock, repeating that they had been raped, that her mother wouldn’t wake up, and that they had to call Dato. The neighbor threw a blanket over Nino and, realizing a tragedy had occurred, began to sob aloud as she picked up the telephone.

15. The Evidence

An unexpected early call was not a rarity in the Lezhava household; therefore, no one but Merab reacted to it. He was often called from work even at night — a high police rank and position carried such obligations. But now, as the colonel realized, the call was not from work; a woman was calling, weeping and asking for David.

— Calm down, madam. I am David’s father. You can tell me everything; it would even be for the best, as I am a police colonel.

On the other end of the line, the woman began to sob aloud. Between sobs, gasping for air and wiping her nose, she managed to convey that Nino and her mother had been attacked during the night. Nino was alive, but Dali Melitonovna, it seemed, had been killed.

Merab woke David and, as quickly as he could, explained that Nino and her mother were in some kind of trouble and they needed to leave immediately. While David was dressing, Merab called an ambulance to Nino’s address and summoned the city’s duty investigator.

Twenty minutes later, the father and son were at Nino’s home. The smell of chloroform was pungent. The duty officer was already in the apartment and saluted; Merab shook his hand and gave a nod, signaling that he could begin the inspection.

The ambulance doctors were already tending to Nino. They had administered some tranquilizers, and she lay on a stretcher, wrapped in a blanket.

The doctor explained the situation to the colonel: there had been a rape, and the mother had been struck during the assault, as evidenced by a bruise on her chin. The doctor put it bluntly:

— The woman was beaten during the rape. Perhaps a blow to the temple, or perhaps she was smothered with the cloth — the autopsy will show. It’s impossible to say for certain right now.

Like ghosts in white nightgowns, the neighbors — mother and daughter — paced through the house.

The ambulance took Dato and Nino to the hospital. After questioning the neighbors, who had heard and seen nothing, Merab thanked them for their help and dismissed them.

Left alone, the policemen put on gloves and began to examine the scene. The investigator’s open kit lay on the table. After finishing the necessary photoshoot of the crime scene, the officer began searching for traces of the perpetrators.

The investigator brushed every possible surface with his kit, but found no fingerprints other than a couple of small female prints. Checking for traces on the bedframe, the officer muttered:

— Strange. No signs of forced entry, no signs of robbery, no fingerprints. Strange. If the rapist was alone, why on earth would he crawl into the trap of the building’s upper floors? They usually rape in parks or, at most, in courtyards, so they have a chance to flee if needed. If he killed the mother, why leave the daughter alive? Besides, we haven’t heard of a serial rapist in the city for a long time. And if there was more than one, it’s likely some youngsters — but where did they get such professionalism? Not a single lead. And this scattered underwear — that’s not accidental.

Packing up his Pinkerton-style tools, the investigator mused:

— Comrade Colonel, it seems to me this isn’t a serial maniac. It’s too risky; the apartment isn’t on the ground floor, you can’t escape through a window. No, they were too cautious for that, and such types usually rape random women, not beauties like this. For them, it’s not love; it’s pathology. The theory about thieves who played around with the women as a side note is out — nothing was stolen, and there wasn’t much to steal anyway. Thieves today don’t «clean out» an apartment without a tip-off, and they usually do it when the owners are away. Another nuance, Comrade Colonel — the chloroform. I think we should look for neighboring medical students. Youthful passion, perhaps a drunken spree, or revenge for a rejected proposal of eternal love. I think we need to dig there. A pity; I understand these are your acquaintances? Well, I’ll be off. I’ll call the medics to take the mother to the morgue for an exam — maybe some leads will turn up.

— Thank you, Major. I’ll lock up here, leave the keys with the neighbor, and head to the hospital.

Merab walked through the room, mechanically casting the piercing gaze of an old pro into what seemed like nowhere. But it only seemed that way; the colonel’s eyes and thoughts were working in parallel. His thoughts were running in a completely different direction than the investigator’s. While the major was thinking about who could have done it, the colonel was thinking about who benefited.

Merab dismissed the neighborhood medical boys immediately; the locals knew well that Nino was David’s girl, and they knew even better who David’s father was. Merab was already beginning to suspect Irakli; it all looked too much like a «demonstrative rape» in the style of his «office.» Everything meticulously prepared, no traces, no motive for the uninitiated — but why rape and kill the mother? What if it really was transient thieves? No, they aren’t idiots! Aren’t there enough prostitutes? They know if they get caught, they’ll never wash it off! They would have at least stolen the earrings from her ears. And what if it was a maniac? No, that’s highly improbable. Where did the keys come from? The door seems intact. And if the women opened it for him, it’s even more unlikely he’d rape them both at once without tying at least one of them up.

Before leaving, Merab entered the bedroom once more. Dali’s face was covered with a towel, while the unfortunate woman’s body remained exposed. Merab covered it with a blanket, and suddenly something slid from the blanket onto the floor. Merab leaned over and picked up the object.

— And here we go, — he rasped, grinding his teeth.

In his hand was a lighter — the pride and joy of his father-in-law’s guard, Semyon Zakharchenko.

16. A Deal with Conscience

The colonel made one more round of the apartment, using his gloved hands to wipe down every possible surface — door handles, the telephone, just in case — checking to see if the night guests had dropped anything else. Finding nothing more, he recalled a remark Irakli Khutsishvili had once let slip in conversation: that his people, supposedly, left no traces.

— Only lighters, — David’s father smirked to himself, and carefully pulling the Zippo from his pocket, he winked at the blue-eyed tiger. — This needs some serious thought.

Sitting down at the massive, handcrafted oak dining table, Merab placed the lighter into a cellophane bag and tucked it into his inner pocket.

Drumming his fingers on the table and looking at the portrait hanging on the wall — Nino’s grandfather in flight uniform with a young daughter in his arms — Merab’s mind worked like a computer, calculating options. He was trying to orient himself on how to proceed, since no one else knew what he now knew, and he simply had to take advantage of this without making a mistake.

Of course, he liked Nino, and he couldn’t wish for a better wife for his son. He wouldn’t have minded making a move on Dali himself, for that matter — here he adjusted his equipment inside his trousers, glanced at the bedroom door, and crossed himself.

— May she rest in peace, — he thought. Well, he hadn’t made his move in time, and she had been a fine-looking woman. Ah well, a pity. But the option of Nino as David’s wife would mean the end of his own career and a completely clouded future for his son. Irakli would stop at nothing to prevent disgrace to himself or his daughter Lali; he had proven that today. The risk wasn’t worth the reward. He could, if he wished, shift the blame and expose Irakli as the organizer — which he was — but in that case, his own police head would likely roll, and not figuratively, but quite literally. No, accusing the «in-law» was out of the question, but shaking all the kompromat out of this Zippo-toting dandy was definitely worth it. Put the confession in the safe and «roll the man in concrete.» Or perhaps a car off a cliff «in the line of duty» and a funeral with honors for everyone to see? Ah, how things can turn — nobody knows; it pays to have insurance! Dato’s fiancée isn’t bad either; there had never been problems on that front until Nino appeared. So, they’ll settle in; he’ll live like a king, and something might even trickle down to me. One way or another, the people are wise: «Better to be born lucky than beautiful.» Well, everything seemed clear, except for Nino. I don’t understand — why did Zakharchenko kill the mother but leave the daughter alive? If both were dead, there would be no problems. Now something has to be done with Nino. If I sent her to a political brothel, Dato wouldn’t understand — the problem would remain. It’s too late to liquidate her now. Merab walked to the phone and dialed the duty investigator, then, after a thought, called Irakli:

— Good morning. I think the news will distress you: last night, unknown persons — likely one or two maniacs — broke into Nino Meskhi’s apartment, raped her, and killed her mother.

— Killed the mother? How?

— Most likely a chloroform overdose, or perhaps a blow to the temple; the autopsy will show.

— Idiots!

— Excuse me?

— I said «monsters.» You must catch this maniac. How could anyone do such a thing to these sweet, harmless women?

— I can imagine how upset Lali will be; she and Nino were friends, after all.

— If you need help, call anytime. This maniac must be caught. I suspect some kind of schizophrenic medic.

— Oh yes, a medical student who leaves no traces.

— None at all? No fingerprints, no dropped documents, no handkerchief or anything?

— No, unfortunately, nothing. No open passport on the table, no cigarettes, no Zippo lighter — everything is clean.

— A pity, a great pity there’s nothing. You’re saying there isn’t even a lighter with a tiger?

— Not a thing!

— Look, come by this evening. We’ll sit over some cognac and talk about life. By the way, a good position is opening up in Czechoslovakia; I’m thinking of sending Dato — after the wedding, of course.

— I’ll certainly come. We have much to discuss.

— Well then, Merab, keep me posted. I’ll send my «eagles» over; maybe help with the organization, the medical forensics? Dato is likely with Nino? Poor girl. These monsters must be destroyed. Why kill the mother while playing around with the girl? Those are different motives for a crime, different articles of the code. It’s untidy.

— I agree with you. You’re a smart man, Irakli, and you understand how things are. For now, I’ll be dealing with the unwanted problems concerning Nino. I think Dato should stay with her for now, but where to place her next… we should discuss that tonight. Perhaps a madhouse, under «Sirotka’s» wing?