Andrei tried to find out the name of the dead woman. No one seemed to know. He kept asking if anyone had seen the deceased hair color. One photographer said her hair was fair and short; he even took a few pictures.
“Where are they? Show me!” Vlasov demanded.
“Can’t; already sent them to the editor,” the photographer shied away.
Fair! Short! Like Svetlana’s, Andrei kept torturing himself. Her hair color went so well with her name.
He tried to call Polina Ivanovna, but her phone was dead.
She must be around here somewhere, among the hostages’ relatives. But that simple thought was quickly displaced by another. What if she had already been told about her daughter’s death and asked to identify the body?
Andrei walked every street in the neighborhood, looked into the faces of hunched women, but haven’t come across Polina Ivanovna. He kept dialing Sveta’s number, then Polina Ivanovna’s, then Sveta’s again, but all he ever got was an unending series of beeps. Along with the soulless sounds, his body was pierced by fear; Sveta was dead!
Fear and pain gave way to determination; he must take vengeance!
Chapter 8
August 31, 8:33 PM
Vacant Lot near a Railroad Line
Andrei turned away from the girl’s prostrate form on the car seat; his trembling fingers were having a hard time pulling a cigarette out of a crumpled pack. The lighter wouldn’t work, either. The car’s lighter would be handy right now, he thought, too bad I threw it away. Finally, the end of the cigarette caught a tiny lick of flame. Andrei pulled on the cigarette with delight.
The suicide bomber wailed covering her face with the palms of her hands. This typically female reaction to life’s troubles calmed Vlasov down. Or was it the strong tobacco in the cigarette? Lately, he smoked much more than he used to, and stronger stuff, too.
Between sobs, the girl moaned, “I don’t want to live, I don’t…”
Without turning, Andrei said through his teeth, “Shut it, will ya? I’m not going to give you to the cops. Just take off your belt and get lost.”
“I don’t want to live,” the girl kept saying, rubbing on her wet eyes.
“Okay, the railroad is over there. Go throw yourself under a train.”
“Suicide’s a sin,” the terrorist said earnestly and even stopped bawling. Her rounded eyes looked at Vlasov in amazement. How can anyone not understand this?
“Righteous, are you? So what was it you wanted to do by the metro station? What do you call that?”
The girl sat up, put the palms of her hands together, and started droning in a monotone, “I must die for my faith. I shall take the enemies of Allah with me; then I shall go to paradise. Paradise is a good place. There is no pain and no humiliation. There are flowers, divine fragrances, and everlasting happiness.”
“Exactly what enemies were you planning to destroy? Did you actually see those people by the metro station? Women with children, shopping for the start of the school year!”
“All infidels are enemies of Allah. Your women raise soldiers who kill our children.”
Andrei cringed; he’d heard those “songs” before.
“Soldiers are killing children. Yeah, sure, they’ve got no one else to fight, just children. What are you, a black widow?”
The girl suddenly stopped crying and said dejectedly, “No, I didn’t get a chance to be a wife.”
“Got it. Your guy fought against the federal forces, so he got wasted?”
“No, he wasn’t fighting.”
“Had to be a good man,” Vlasov winced sarcastically. “What happened to him?”
“He was killed in a raid.”
“Happens,” Andrei yawned ambivalently.
“What? Happens?” The girl, indignant, jumped out of the car. “They hit him with the butt of a rifle on the head and shot him like a dog. Prostrate, on the ground! He wasn’t even armed!”
Andrei flicked away the cigarette butt.
“Don’t you make a soldier angry when he’s got his finger on a trigger! He may be in a uniform, but he’s just a kid, and he pees himself when he walks into your courtyard, with hostile mugs all around! So you and your guy had to stick your highlander pride up your ass when you got raided. Got it?”
Andrei’s stare met the girl’s; flames of rage ran toward each other and snuffed out like a brush fire when one wave of fire meets another. Andrei looked down and said calmly, “Take off that belt.”
“I can’t,” the girl said desperately.
“What do you mean, can’t? Don’t make me angry!”
“It was put on so that I can’t take it off myself.”
Vlasov leaned forward. “Show me.”
The girl, ashamed, covered herself; her swarthy face reddened.
“Stop playing hard to get!” Andrei spread the girl’s clasped hands and opened her cardigan. His fingers carefully lifted up the loose blouse. On the girl’s slim waist, there was a weighty foil-wrapped bundle shaped into a wide belt. “Um, nice package.”
The girl pulled the blouse down, “Don’t look!”
“Hands off, okay? Don’t make me angry! I am not trying to play your lover.”
The girl closed her eyes in embarrassment and bit her lower lip; her face bore an expression of suffering.
“Take off your cardigan,” Andrei ordered.
The girl, ashamed, clasped her hands and shook her head no.
“Come on, take it off. No need to cover. I don’t care about your curves.”
“They tied it up from behind.”
“Okay, so turn around.”
The girl obediently took off her cardigan and leaned forward, her face to the car seat.
Andrei lifted up her blouse; on her back were large bruises.
“Ouch! That’s quite a beating you got by that metro station.” He looked closer; along with fresh bruises, there were older, yellow marks. “Where did you get those? Did our military do that? Did you try to fight for your fiancé? Special forces have hard boots.”
The girl sobbed silently; her body started shaking as she wept. Andrei bared her entire back. Under her fine skin, he could see the protrusions of her vertebrae; on both sides of her spine, there were traced of multiple beatings. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Andrei looked askance; he could see a part of her breast and on it, a dark bite mark.
The girl moved her elbow covering her breast; her shoulder blade lifted up on her back.
“What are you looking at? Untie it!” she hurried him rudely.
Andrei bent over the knots; his fingers couldn’t grab on the nylon cord.
“It’s tied fast. Can’t untie.” He pulled with his teeth, but soon gave up. “Looks like this belt wasn’t supposed to come off. Too bad I don’t have a knife. I’ll try a screwdriver. Hold on.”
He opened the trunk; for a while, tools clanged as he rummaged