The Domino Game Read Online Free PDF Page B

you ever have thought our studious Mr Gilmanov had such eclectic interests?”
    He followed the first tape with the second, burst out laughing again and raised a finger to wipe his eyes. Now that he had been invited the security guard joined in with his own tentative snigger. Kolbasov’s fingers tightened again on his shoulder and Gregori could feel the damp warmth of the other man’s breath in his ear as he leaned forward confidentially.
    “Italian lingerie and American pornography. A fine selection. My congratulations, Gilmanov. I’m sure your Lena will be absolutely delighted.”
    Gregori managed a nervous laugh.
    Kolbasov pulled himself upright and flicked a hand towards the cassettes. “Put them away, Andrey. Hurry up. Mr Gilmanov’s wife is at home waiting for her surprise.” He turned back to Gregori, grinning broadly. “And you my friend… you have a wonderful evening. And I shall expect to hear all the details tomorrow.” He released his grasp on Gregori’s shoulder, turned abruptly and strode away towards the main staircase, calling back as he went. “Remember, Gregori … every little detail.”
    Gregori Gilmanov half walked, half stumbled across the car park in the descending darkness, tossed his briefcase and the shopping bag into the trunk of the Mercedes and fell into the driver’s seat, drained and exhausted. His heart was racing, the blood pounding in his temples. He closed his eyes and clamped his fingers around the steering wheel, squeezing so hard he was almost certain it would snap in his grasp, sitting like that for a full minute, trying to drain the tension from his body.
    Finally he let go his grip, dragged his seatbelt into place, turned the ignition and – an afterthought – hit the central locking. Backed up from his parking space and eased the vehicle slowly out onto the street and into the Moscow night.
    Marat Ivankov looked up across the edge of his reading glasses as Vitaly Kolbasov re-entered his office.
    “What was all that noise about?”
    Kolbasov walked across to Ivankov’s desk, paused to regard him questioningly for a moment, then, realizing what his boss was referring to, broke into a wide grin.
    “My laughing, you mean?” He chuckled lightly again to himself and began sorting through a stack of correspondence. “Just Gilmanov. I happened to be passing by as he was having his evening shakedown. He seemed nervous as a cat so I hung back to find out why, and you know what it was?” Kolbasov found what he was looking for and drew a piece of paper out of the pile. “He was smuggling out some underwear and a couple of dirty movies he’d bought for his wife’s birthday.” Kolbasov shook his head with recalled amusement. “You should have seen him. He looked like some schoolboy caught jerking off in the toilets.” He chuckled again and started to turn away but Ivankov’s calm, measured voice held him.
    “And have you checked, Vitaly?”
    Kolbasov blinked. “I’m sorry? Checked what?”
    Ivankov lifted his glasses from his nose and lowered them tolerantly to his desk, regarding Vitaly Kolbasov with a chill stare.
    “Checked his personnel records, Vitaly. Checked that it is his wife’s birthday.”
    Vitaly Kolbasov blinked again, looked aside, down, then answered in a subdued voice. ‘To be honest? No, it didn’t occur… ”
    Marat Ivankov cut him dead.
    ‘Then perhaps you should check, Vitaly. Don’t you think?”

3
    Vari Vlasenko swung the black Volga off the Garden Ring and north onto Prospekt Mira. Beside him Nikolai sat gazing vacantly at the passing blur of colored neon that marked the relentless advance of the city’s Westernization. They passed a towering pylon sign crowned by the now familiar golden double arches. How did the saying go?… Napoleon couldn’t conquer Moscow. It had taken McDonald’s to do that.
    “A nice area,” Vari observed, throwing him a glance. “You’re a lucky man, Niko. A beautiful wife and daughter. Money in the bank.