Shadow WIngs (Skeleton Key) (7 page)

“Murder?” The officer let out a surprised laugh. “He was drunk and naked in the park!”

Ilana frowned, but said nothing that time, looking back at the cage.

It struck her that this
ment
prick likely knew nothing of Golunsky either.

“Who is this ‘Golunsky’?” the
ment
said, even as Ilana thought it.

Ilana didn’t answer.

When the silence continued for a few beats more, the officer shrugged, frowning delicately as he held up his hands.

“Comrade, I meant no offense,” he said. “I am thinking you are knowing this man. That you are married to someone else, maybe... that you have good reason to keep such a knowledge to yourself. I am thinking maybe you saw him last night, and he got too drunk. I am thinking you left and he is upset,
da?
That he ends up in the park, with no clothes? I am thinking he knows why you are here today from these things, maybe...?”

Ilana’s felt her lips press into a hard line. Hard enough that she nearly broke the skin with her teeth. “What is your name, comrade?”

The
militsiya
officer jerked his eyes to hers, startled.

Studying her gaze, he visibly blanched, growing whiter under the scruff of his beard. As he looked at her, he seemed to remember himself again, as if he’d once more forgotten that she belonged to the Party and might not be exactly who she claimed to be.

“I apologize, comrade.” That time, his voice came out humble. He gave her a short bow, clicking his heels, his words formally polite. “I meant my words only as an offer to be discreet. And a desire to dismiss this man, if he is only here for drinking too much vodka and fucking the wrong hooker in the park.”

She grimaced slightly but didn’t lower her gaze. “The assumption that I would refuse to aid you in those endeavors is rather offensive, don’t you agree?”

“Of course, comrade. Of course.” The man exhaled, holding up his hands. “Do you really think he knows something about a case? Or is it just bullshit?”

His tone had gone back to cop to cop––or cop to Party, perhaps, which suited Ilana just fine. She felt her hackles lower.

“I do not know,” she said, exhaling herself. “But it is strange. This whole thing is strange. This knowing about me, knowing that I would be here at all...” She glanced at the man on the other side of those iron bars. “It is not something I can afford to ignore right now.”

“You think he is with the Party too?”

Ilana gave the
militsiya
officer a grim look. “If he is, I’ve never seen him before.”

Her eyes drifted back towards the cell as she said it. Folding her arms tighter around the folders she held, she studied the prisoner’s face, frowning. Something in her couldn’t make herself believe this man could be Golunsky’s accomplice. If he really did know something about the murders, perhaps he was some kind of witness? He did say she would need him to solve the crime. Perhaps Karkoff was right to send her here.

Perhaps these murders were political after all.

The thought made her tired.

As for him, the prisoner, he seemed to be watching her and the police officer with an unusual intensity of concentration. He looked almost as if he strained for the sound of faraway music––like he listened to not only their words, but to something else. Something he couldn’t quite hear, but desperately
wanted
to hear.

Ilana did not know what this man’s issue was with her, but for some reason, she could not simply leave him here, in this cell. Nor could she process him in the usual way.

Yet she could not decide
what
to do with him.

As she stood there, still hesitating, the other man spoke.

That time his voice was low, almost a murmur.

“Ilana,” he breathed. “Come here. Please. I will not hurt you. Come here, Ilana. There is something I must tell you. It is important...”

She found herself wanting to do as he asked.

She would be a fool to approach a prisoner’s cell, even one picked up for something minor like lewd and drunken behavior. Yet somehow, she found herself pulled into those gray eyes.

“Please, Ilana,” he said, softer still. That look in his eyes tugged on her more. “Please. There is something about me you must know. We cannot waste any more time...”

Before she’d consciously made the decision, she moved, jerking towards the cell. In a single heart beat, she’d closed the distance between them.

“Comrade!” the
militsiya
officer said, alarmed. He seemed about to reach for her, then remembered that she might be his superior and pulled his hand sharply away. “Comrade! I implore you to not approach him! It is not safe! He could be dangerous...”

But Ilana had already reached the iron bars.

The man caught hold of her arms once she did. He did not hold her roughly, but his grip was strong, firm. Insistent. He pulled her towards him. His skin was ice-cold, but his hands also strangely soft under their obvious strength.

Once she was close enough to him, he murmured softly in her ear.

“I am Raguel.” His breath caressed her ear. “I am
Raguel.
I was in the room when he spoke my name to you. I was there. It is how I know these things. I am Raguel...”

She drew away, staring at him.

“It is true,” he breathed, still soft.

She shook her head. “That is not possible.”

“It
is
possible. It is the only explanation, Ilana.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “That is no explanation at all, comrade... it is an impossibility. No one else was in that room. None but the three of us. I know this.”

The beautiful man met her gaze. He frowned slightly, as if trying to decide what else to say.

In the end, he remained silent.

She continued to study those smoked-crystal eyes. “No one was there, Comrade. No one. What you say...” She shook her head. “No. I was there. I know this.”

Again, he did not answer.

He only watched her face, his gray eyes still, yet filled with ever more infinitely subtle layers. Up close they were even more stunning than they had been from a distance. They really did glow faintly with light, like translucent crystal.

She watched him study her face, as if willing her to put it together, to remember exactly what transpired in that detective’s office.

Raguel.

She remembered the name, of course.

She also remembered that she’d been alone in that room, with the officer and Golunsky. She remembered Golunsky speaking to someone behind her, taunting her.

Talking about wings. About feathers. About sex.

He’d used her, Ilana, to taunt that other person.

She suspected he’d also used that other person to taunt her.

It struck her as strange at the time, how convincing he had been. Golunsky spoke with such feeling, such
conviction
to that other person. She’d dismissed his words as insanity, of course, but she’d wondered what they meant to the man himself. There’d been a bizarre religious cast to some of it, or perhaps a metaphysical one. Truthfully, she’d gotten the impression Golunsky thought he was talking to an
angel,
based on some of what he’d said. He’d mentioned wings, feathers, referenced heaven and even God himself at one point...

Now she found herself face to face with someone who not only knew about the contents of that conversation, but claimed to have been there. She
knew
that was not true. The room had been empty, windowless. No one could have heard them through the walls or doors. She’d checked the room for additional surveillance besides the standard version––so had Obnizov, the homicide detective. Could they have missed it? She thought it unlikely.

Thinking harder, she tried to recall more specifics of what Golunsky had said.

But unpacking that conversation could wait, too.

Right now, she had to deal with this person calling himself “Raguel.” Whatever his source of information, the gray-eyed man was lying to her right now. He
had
to be lying.

Yet somehow, she didn’t believe he was.

“I will take him,” she found herself saying, speaking louder, to the
ment
standing behind her. “Release him. I will determine who he is. Not here... at Party Headquarters.”

When she turned her head, the bearded police officer looked dumbstruck.

“Do you have him charged with anything?” she said, her voice a touch sharper. “Officially, I mean? Or is he here only for what you’ve said... being found naked in Gorky Park? For knowing who I am? For asking to see me?”

“Public drunkenness and indecency––”

“Yet he is clearly not drunk.”

The
ment
blinked in surprise. “He would have to be drunk,
da?”
Staring between her and the man in the iron-barred cage, he scratched his beard with thick fingers. “Are you saying he is crazy, comrade?”

She motioned towards the man in the cell, ignoring his hands wrapped around her arms. “I am saying he is not drunk. Did you smell alcohol on him?”

“No, but––”

“Well, there is not enough on him that you cannot release him to me.” She bit her lip, then lied, again without really knowing why. “...I wish to question him on behalf of the Party. Given the nature of the crime he referenced, there is some political discretion required until we determine his exact involvement.” She glanced at the officer, saw the skepticism in his eyes and decided to ignore it. “...If he is aware of me, and of my case, I need to question him. Alone. Under the auspices of the
Party
...” she repeated, to emphasize the point. “Not the
militsiya.”

“You want me to release him?” The man still sounded dumbstruck.

“To the
Party,
yes.” She made her voice colder and slower, as if she were speaking to a dim-witted child. “Is that a problem, comrade? Of course you may clear it with whomever you must on your end. I will wait.”

The man looked at her, again blanching at the implied muscle in her words.

“That is not necessary, comrade Kopovich,” he said, his words crisp. He saluted her, then gave another short bow. “As you say, he is not drunk. He is no longer naked. I see no reason to hold him for this. I will handle the paperwork personally.”

“Thank you, comrade. I appreciate you not slowing my work.”

She turned back towards the cell. It occurred to her only then that the gray-eyed man still held her arms in his muscular hands. Looking down at where he gripped her, she glanced up with a frown and once more found herself meeting his gaze.

“You can let go now, comrade,” she said. “I will take you with me, as you asked.”

Relief filled his expression. “Thank you, Ilana. Thank you.”

“You and I will talk,
da?”
She made her voice cold, harsh with authority. “No more of these games,
da?
Just truth?”

The implied threat seemed to go right past him.

“Of course, Ilana.” He massaged her arms through her coat with his fingers. “Of course. I will tell you whatever you wish. Anything.”

He sounded so openly relieved that time, she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Instead she looked down at where he continued to touch her...

And swallowed, in spite of herself.