“Rudy had a phobia. He was hazed in the army. He was Jewish, he was overweight and the sergeants got together and put him in a coffin filled with human waste and nailed him in for a night. Since then he had a fear of close physical contact or dirt or germs. I only had enough to put him in camp for a few years, but he didn’t think he could survive. I used the threat to make him carry the radio.”

“What happened?” Albov asked.

“The militia equipment failed, as usual. I entered Rudy’s car and tinkered with the transmitter until it worked. Five minutes later he was on fire.”

“Did anyone see you with Rudy?” Rodionov asked.

“Everyone saw me with Rudy. I assumed no one would recognize me.”

“Kim didn’t know that Rosen was cooperating with you?” Albov asked.

Arkady revised his opinion. Though Albov had the physical ease and blow-dried assurance of an American, he was Russian. About thirty-five, dark brown hair, soulful black eyes, charcoal suit, red tie and the patience of a traveler camping with barbarians.

“No,” Arkady said. “At least I didn’t think he did.”

“What about Kim?” Rodionov asked.

Arkady said, “Mikhail Senovich Kim. Korean, twenty-two. Reform school, minors colony, army construction battalion. Lyubertsy mafia, car theft and assault. Rides a Suzuki, but we expect him to take any bike off the street, and of course he wears a helmet, so who knows who he is? We can’t stop every biker in Moscow. A witness identifies him as the assailant. We’re looking for him, but we’re also looking for other witnesses.”

“But they’re all criminals,” Penyagin said. “The best witnesses were probably the killers.”

“That’s generally the case,” Arkady said.

Rodionov shuddered. “The whole thing is a typical Chechen attack.”

“Actually,” Arkady said, “Chechens are more partial to knives. Anyway, I don’t think the point was to only kill Rudy. The bombs burned the car, which was a computerized mobile bank stuffed with disks and files. I think that’s why they used two bombs, in order to make sure. They did a good job. It’s all gone now, along with Rudy.”

“His enemies must be happy,” Rodionov said.

“There was probably more incriminating evidence about his friends on those disks than about his enemies,” Arkady said.

Albov said, “It sounds as if you liked Rosen.”

“He burned to death. You could say I sympathized.”

“Would you describe yourself as an unusually sympathetic investigator?”

“Everyone works in a different way.”

“How is your father?”

Arkady thought for a moment, more to adjust to this shift of ground than to search for an answer.

“Not well. Why do you ask?”

Albov said, “He’s a great man, a hero. More famous than you, if you don’t mind my saying so. I was curious.”

“He’s old.”

“Seen him lately?”

“If I do, I’ll tell him you asked.”