A Negotiable Instrument

Chapter Sixteen

'Sergeant Dolmatov,' Tursunov called out as he came into the office. 'Come with me.'

'Where are we going?'

'I think you will find the question is where are we going, sir.'

'Sorry, sir.' Dolmatov said after a long pause. 'Where are we going, sir?' He didn't move from behind his desk.

'Just get your coat and follow me.' Tursunov strode out of the office without bothering to look back. Dolmatov got to his feet, retrieved his coat and hat from the rack, and followed Tursunov out of the office. He had to hurry to catch up as Tursunov took the stairs at a run, strode though the entrance hall, and thudded down the steps onto the Fontanka. Once outside, Tursunov slowed to let Dolmatov catch up, pulling his own coat tight and ramming his hat down on his head.

'It's cold, don't you think?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Stopped raining.'

'Yes, sir.'

'The wind's a devil.'

'Yes, sir.'

'I thought a walk in the fresh air might do us both some good. Clear our heads.'

'Yes, sir.' Dolmatov was wary of Tursunov's apparent change of mood and refused to rise to the bait. They walked on for a short distance without speaking.

'Not that the air in Piter could ever be described as fresh,' Tursunov said, breaking the silence. 'There seems to be another factory built every week. I've read about places in England where they say there are so many factories billowing out smoke and flames that it feels like you are descending into hell.'

'Yes, sir.'

'It makes you think.'

'Yes, sir.' Dolmatov couldn't stand it any longer. 'Are we going to that factory where you arrested Fourreé?'

'No, but I can see why you might think that. Did you mention the factory to Radostev?' Tursunov asked without looking at Dolmatov.

'No, sir.'

'Why not?'

'I thought you had told him,' Dolmatov said, and they walked on in silence.

'Why did you go to Radostev, Borya?' Tursunov asked, stopping suddenly. 'Why not come to me first?'

'Look, sir, if you wanted to get me away from the office, you've done that.' Dolmatov had stopped as well. 'If you want to make it personal, let's get on with it.' He stared at Tursunov, his hands clenched into fists, shoulders squared. His eyebrows had drawn themselves up, bristling like a line of tiny pikes that would have given a regiment of Cossacks pause for thought.

'I haven't dragged you all the way out here just so we can have some sort of schoolboy set to, Borya.'

'Are you sure? It seems to me that's exactly what you want.'

'There's not much doubt who would win a fight between us, now is there? So what makes you think I would be stupid enough to want one?'

'Maybe because you want a beating. You were looking for one the other night, but you were to drunk for anyone to take you seriously.'

'And why should I want a beating, Borya?'

'Because you think it would make you feel better. Because you think it's what you deserve.'

'That would be too easy, wouldn't it?' Tursunov said. He wandered over to the edge of the embankment and stood staring down at the frozen canal. 'I didn't mean to put the lad in danger. You understand that, don't you?'