Korolev had been the one who’d spoken to the maid but, given she’d done nothing about it at the time, not even look out into the corridor, Korolev didn’t think her statement could be relied on. Meanwhile Sergeant Bukov’s men were continuing to go through the house apartment by apartment and would...
‘Well,’ he said. Slivka put her hands in her pockets. ‘No more beating about the bush, anyway.’ ‘No.’ ‘Who on the filmset would have access to morphine, do you think?’ ‘That I don’t know, Slivka. Now, first things first,’ he said as they began to climb the steps to where t...
Babel, meanwhile, had the inward-looking smile of a man committing to memory each detail of their encounter, and it made Korolev feel trapped, that small smile; as though Korolev were in the middle of a story still being written and over which he had no control. Perhaps it was that sense of power...