NationStates Jolt Archive

Skrovenberg – 2:03 am

Underneath the statue of Tsarina Katerina Csabor, whose arms stretched out to the port welcoming the world that the Tsarina opened trade with centuries earlier, the figure of a young woman stood, her coat offering little protection to the winter nights chill.
The snow by now was coming down at a pace, creating a curtain of white, masking the city streets around her.
The young woman pressed herself as close to the grandiose statue as possible, hoping the structure would form a barrier, keeping the harsh wind from her body.
Her eyes darted across the dimly lit streets, she couldn’t be found out here, not at this time of night. For years now Khadorov had passed laws to create curfew’s across the major towns and cities. Those in power claimed that it tackled crime, but the truth was far more simple and the young woman, huddled in the cold knew full well that it was to stop the kind of congregation that promoted ill feeling towards the state. Not that she was out on the streets during this abysmal weather in Khadorov’s second city because of political opinion. She was out in the cold because of love.

She hung to the story that her love had told her, it gave her an inner feeling of warmth, he could take her away from the grime of the average Khadorovian life, he could take her away from everything bad in the world. She believed him, why shouldn’t she? He was wealthy, he could offer her things that she could only dream about, those fancy earrings she had seen through frosted shop windows. The necklace she had once been able to see adorning the slender neck of some princess or duchess of the realm, she could now have it all. Or at least she soon would be able to.

She pulled her tattered sleeve back from her wrist, to reveal a elegant looking watch, it looked out of place against her moth eaten appearance, but it was proof of the amount of love she was being offered.
She squinted her eyes, trying to see the time shown on the face, but she could not clearly define the hands. Her saviour would be arriving at two a.m, she kept telling herself, she only needed to wait a little longer, make sure that the patrols of the Korskoi did not see her out this late.

A vehicle’s headlights managed to cut through curtain of snow surrounding her, she hadn’t heard the cars approach, its engine almost completely drowned out by the thoughts she was having about the better life waiting for her. She sank back into the protecting contours of the statue, hoping the lights would not fall on her.

The car slowed on the deceptively treacherous road and then stopped. Her eyes focused on the vehicle as its engine gently hummed. This must be the car he sent to collect me she thought, her beloved had told her that a car would collect her. Her heart skipped a beat, the warmth that she had felt moments earlier returned, he was telling her the truth, he would take her away from the mess of life.

In a frantic panic she hoisted up the hem of her long coat, she had to get to the car before it departed. She ran forward, trying to hold back the squeals of excitement that so longed to emanate from her. In her joy she almost lost her balance on the snow a number of times and only managed to stop her descent to the floor by flinging herself at the side of the dark car that sat in front of her.
She bent down to look through the windows of the back door, but could not see through the blacked-out glass. Her hand turned into a fist as she quietly tapped on the door, worried that the noise she made against the car’s door would actually manage to attract the local constabulary to the car. The window began to descend, a smile appeared across her lips, she brushed the strands of blonde hair from her face. The young woman found herself looking into backseat of a luxury car, she did not know much about these things, but she drank deeply on the sights and the smells that emanated from such a vehicle.
It took her a few seconds to even be aware of the occupants of the car, as she looked across the car she found herself looking at a figure in the backseat, his arm raised towards her, within a clenched hand rested a pistol, its barrel pointed directly at her.

Her heart plummeted, her eyes questioning, her smile long lost she attempted to retreat from the car. A flash of light and a deafening crack echoed through the car and out into the cold night air. The sound made her jump, the smell of burning filled her nostrils, then a sharp pain tore through her small frame, she staggered back from the car, looking down at her right shoulder, her hand searched across the fabric that rested by her collar bone. She drew her hand from her body, she could clearly see the shine of blood on her gloves, she had been shot; unable to support her anymore her knees buckled and dropped her unceremoniously to the floor.

Her eyes filled with tears, she attempted to release a scream to the nights air, but as she did her mouth filled with blood, forcing a disturbing gurgle to erupt from her throat. The young woman’s face contorted in fear, her body urged her to move, giving her strength that she would otherwise not have been privy to. Initially her escape faulted into panic fuelled struggling, but soon she had found her feet, her hand again pressed against her collar. She looked into the darkness of the car; streams of tears rolling down her pale cheeks, she forced a gurgled cry towards her attacker a splatter of blood escaping from her mouth and down her chin. How could her loved one do this to her, why would he do this, he had promised so much, why would he lie? She turned to make her escape towards the statue, at least that would offer her some protection. The woman began to move, as fast as her weakened state would allow. A second crack rang out in the cold winters air, she did not think for a second, a burst of pain and anguish ripped through her body, she had to escape, but her limbs failed to respond, her sight momentarily blurred, before fading into utter darkness. The young blond staggered a few more steps before collapsing, face first into a heap at the foot of the Statue of Tsarina Katerina Csabor. So it was true her loved one was able to take her away from the mess of life.

Belavdon Tenement Building - Skrovenberg – 3:25 am

The metallic trill of the telephone awoke him from his deep slumber. Vasily turned over, attempting to bury his head into his pillow, a vain attempt to drown out the infuriating noise that was beginning to echo deep in his head.
It was becoming obvious the formerly sleeping Vasily that the telephone was not going to cease anytime soon, lazily he stretched a hand out from beneath the warmth of the covers and grabbed the handset.
“Dvoravich” he snapped no one had the right to wake him up, especially after he had been working late the night before.
The voice on the end of the phone sounded distant “Agent Dvoravich?” the timid voice asked, as if finally aware that someone had picked up his call.
“Speaking” the solitary word replied, Vasily sat himself up in his dishevelled looking bed, he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the hands of the clock, sat on the table by his bed. “What time is it?” he added.
“Its almost Half Past Three sir.”
Sir? It was obviously someone from work, surely they could deal with whatever problem had arisen on their own without his help.
“Sir, its Agent Rostov here, we have something that you really should see.” The recently identified Agent said, his voice still quite nervous in its approach.
“You going to give me any hints or do I have to wait for the surprise?” Vasily drew himself from the bed, his feet now resting on the cold wooden floor, how he longed for a carpet at this point in time.
“Of course sir. We have a body at Dockyards, under the Tsarina Statue. You’re being requested.”
“Requested?” Vasily hated being requested, it didn’t matter that it made him feel somewhat needed, it was the fact that to be requested meant that someone was at the crime scene that Vasily could really do without seeing.
“Yes sir, we have a Commissary Agent down here, he’s requesting your imminent arrival.” Vasily rolled his eyes, his deep exhale of air was obviously audible down the phone.
“I’ll be there when I get there.” Was his last reply before putting the handset of the phone back into its cradle.
It was times like these that Vasily Dvoravich hated being an Agent in the Korskoi. He had been a member of the service for close to twenty years and what had he got to show for it? Sure he had climbed the ranks from the regular constabulary, but the earlier promises for a better way of life once he’d become a fully-fledged agent seemed to have amounted for nought. Or at least that how it seemed when he looked around his dilapidated apartment. So who cared if he held a Captains rank, that was scant reward for eighteen years of service to the crown.
Vasily rubbed his hand against his chin, he felt the coarse hairs of his stubble scratch against his palm. Normally he would shave before going on duty, but today was going to be an exception, the mere presence of a commissar at the crime scene meant that he should get there quickly and spending the proper diligence shaving was time he could not willingly spare. The officer quickly dressed into the suit he had warn the previous day, the clothes having not been hung up, but rather flung into a heap on the floor had proved easier to discover in his tired state than the clothes that hung in his small closet. Momentarily he spotted himself in the full length mirror that stood attached to the painted wall, he smiled at the image that he offered to the world, his black suit was at least a size to big for him and hung almost shapelessly from his frame. Regularly he would quip that it was to hide any imperfections that his body may have, but the truth was that it was the most expensive suit he could afford on his wages. The fact that he most probably belonged to someone would had long since departed from the mortal plane didn’t upset him in the slightest, Khadorov was a tough place to live when you weren’t from the wealthy elite, and that group consisted of very few subject.
Almost ready to leave for the day, he walked once more the cupboard by the head of his bed, he opened the top draw and pulled out his Korskoi badge, imprinted with the Imperial Eagle and his name Captain Vasily Dvoravich. He placed it into his inside jacket pocket before again reaching into the draw and recovering a .45 Korskoi regulation pistol. He hated these things, not only did he detest using armed force in the first place, but when it was necessary the regulation gun had a tendency to jam, or even worse explode in the uses hands. Oh to be in the Korskoi he joked as he looked once more into the open draw.
Spread out in the draw lay five cigarettes, he scooped them up placed them in his shirt pocket, Cigarettes were become expensive with each passing day. It was simple economics, Vasily had told himself countless times, demand outweighs the ability to make them, which means the prices go up. He had tried time and time again to quit, but something’s he was just not meant to do, he decided that rationing his “smokes” was his only choice.
Checking himself over, making sure that nothing was forgotten, Captain Dvoravich left his apartment pauses momentarily to grab his thick woollen trench coat, it wouldn’t take him too long to get over to the Dockyard and the awaiting scene.

Tsarina Katerina Csabor Statue - Skrovenberg – 3:38 am

By the time Captain Vasily Dvoravich had travelled across the city to the Statue of the Tsarina, the snow had almost ceased to fall with the exception of a few lone snowflakes that wistfully fluttered to the ground.
He was instantly drawn to the crowd of Korskoi, the majority of whom seemed to be doing very little at the sight. Vasily lifted the collar of his Trench coat up to protect his face from the harshness of the breeze and slowly made his way by foot over the crisp snow towards the cordoned off area around the base of the impressive Statue. At least the officers had the sense to close off this area of the city, even if the curfew was still in full effect and the general population wouldn’t be out on the street for at least three more hours.
It soon became apparent to the weary officer that the body of the victim had been removed from the crime scene, the careless nature of many of the frontline officers belonging to the Korskoi had trampled the majority of the scene. The officers that were diligently doing their assigned tasks were either huddled around the foot of the Statue, where a crack in the stone work was noticeable even from the distance that he stood at, or around a very visible bloodstain that scarred the snow and the concrete beneath it.
What was obvious to the newly arrived agent was that no one dared stand near the finely dressed Commissar, who stood like a hawk, watching over the entire proceedings, he barely moved, but somehow he seemed to be able to intimidate all the people around him. Vasily chuckled to himself, the men and women working hard in front of him had little to fear from the Commissar, after all they were Agents from his own department. It was those that were doing very little or nothing that could cause the political officer to transform into the predator that he was obviously longing to become.

A shiver ran over her body as she looked upon the crime scene or at least what was left of it. The victim had already been moved by the time she had arrived with several of the other agents. The snow had died down, at least well enough to see past her nose, although as she gazed upon the torn up evidence she wished that it was still obscuring her view.

Agent Ekaterina Vitalievna Blagoslavova sighed heavily. Their job really was not going to be easy this time, and if things could not get any worse, the Commissar had decided to join them on site. Pulling her coat around her, and checking her gloves to ensure that none of her body heat was escaping, she watched a steam of her breath rise and disappear into the air, her gaze falling on the newly arrived Captain as he arrived.

Flicking her blue eyes between the two senior agents, Katya frowned and moved slightly towards where the captain would be once he had finished with the Commissar ready to fill him in with how far the Korskoi had got with their initial investigations, which she knew amounted to little more than nothing.

As she stood waiting, she pulled off the hat she was wearing, her blonde hair blowing in the wind, as she fought to pull it out of her face, before once more trapping her hair beneath it. Her coat, which like the other agents was long, brushed against the remaining snow, slightly too long for her five foot seven frame, which meant that little of the breeze and chill managed to penetrate its protection.

Around her, she took notice of the others milling around the scene, watching how their incompetency meant that many more man hours would have to be put in to the case.

Vasily looked across the scene in front of him, there was no way that he wanted to discuss anything with the Commissar, why the predatory man was even at the sight unnerved him slightly. Commissar’s worked for the crown and in particularly political situations or at least any situation that could include the name of the royal family, Captain Dvoravich certainly didn’t want that kind of attention on him or any of his agents.

Noticing the figure of the Korskoi Agent stood to the side of the crime scene he began to move towards the waiting officer. Now would be the perfect time to light up a cigarette he thought, but quickly he locked the thought away, his mind had too much to work on already without the craving for nicotine.

“What’s happened here? Where’s the body?” he called out moving through the snow, his shout drawing the attention of the wiry framed Commissar. The uniformed officers strides cleared the crime scene in terse manner, stationing himself close the newly arrived Captain.

“Commissar Karakov” the Commissar announced himself, “We have had a murder.” the newly identified man stated, his appearance unable to hide the disdain he had for the average Korskoi agents that stood around him.
Vasily returned the glare, “and the Body?” he questioned. Karakov, his shoulders back and his chest puffed out, drew himself to his full scrawny height. “I had the officers remove her to the morgue.”
Almost choking back the anger Vasily tried to reason with the hawkish man that stood beside him, he could accept that the Commissar was new to this trade, it was obvious that he was still in his youth, his face wore none of the ravages of age. The most likely reason for him holding such a political rank was that his father was “landed” gentry, he had probably made money from some royal enterprise across the Kingdom.

“Removed? Why did you remove the body you idiot?” Captain Dvoravich tried to hold back his sentence, but it slipped out into the night and into the ears of many of the surrounding agents. The Commissar lost his apparent bluster, his face slowly turning red, the fury boiling up through him. But before he could vent it his mind regained control, informing him that the Korskoi Captain in front of him certainly seemed to be in no mood for an argument, it didn’t even matter that seniority was with the younger man.
“We could not allow the public to see her.” The predatory Commissar stuttered, he reached into his deep blue Frock coat and pulled out a card, offering it to Vasily.
The Captain took the small card from the open hand of Karakov, lifting it to the sky, as if the light that had managed to fight through the cloudy sky would fully illuminate it.
In his hand, Vasily surmised, was the ID card belonging to the victim, his squinted his eyes, straining to make out the words emblazoned on it.

“Name, Sofia Petrovna…. Kossomite” he read out aloud, pausing at the sound of the last word. “Kossomite? Why are the Agents wasting their time with Kossomite’s?” The Commissar fidgeted at Vasily’s words, he knew full well that a Kossomite was the lowest of the low in Khadorov, they were the serf’s that tilled the land for the higher classes. By law Agents did not deal with crimes against Kossomite’s unless it involved some one else, someone with power.

Catching the end of the heated discussion, Katya turned away, not wanting to look like she was listening in. Curiosity killed the cat, and she had a liking for life, even if it was not the best possible. Hearing things that did not concern her was a sure fire way of having trouble landing on her doorstep, and that was something she could do without. Her philosophy had always been to come in, do her job and go home, leaving those who were paid more to worry.

She moved towards the statue, in front of which the woman’s body had been found. On the ground, traces of crimson indicated where she had fallen. The snow had been trodden into the ground, but still visible where the stain remained, faded but still there. Nearby, standing next to the plinth that the stone Tsarina stood upon, one of the other agents was gazing intently. She walked over to him and pointed to where he had been looking.

“Bullet?” She asked, ignoring the pleasantries and getting down to business. “That will need to come out, if we can get it.” Her eyes once more flicked around the scene. “It could be our only piece of evidence.” Before she gazed back at the agent, her eyes fell upon the captain and the commissar, who were still locked in what looked like anything but a pleasant conversation, no doubt about the victim and her origins.

Commissar Karakov’s lips drew back into a smile, realising the power in the situation had once again returned to him. “Correct Agent….” He paused, his head tilting to one side questioningly.
“Dvoravich” Vasily added, the sharp featured Commissar nodded.
“Correct Agent Dvoravich, the body is that of Miss Petrovna, a Kossomite in the services of a very powerful family in this city.” He began toying with the Agent, just like a cat would with its prey, holding information tantalisingly close.
“No, they’re powerful everywhere.” His smile wider than ever now. “Can you guess who?” Karakov patronised.
If only it were legal to kill Commissar’s Vasily considered, a quick bullet to the head, would end all this torture, for everyone here, no one would mind. Finally Captain Dvoravich answered, almost like a child who had been brought to the attention of a teacher, the quick switch of fortunes had not been lost on the officer, as he weakly answered, “The Tsar?”

“Exactly, Sofia Petrovna worked for the most important family in this Kingdom and now she lies cold on a slab in the local Morgue. I’m sure you can understand the trauma that his Royal Highness is currently suffering from.” The political officer complained. Vasily knew this to be a lie, as if the Tsar would be aware of one Kossomite that worked for him in the Winter Palace in Skrovenberg.

“What was she doing out at this time of night anyway?” Vasily composed himself again, he was going to be leading this case, not the Commissar, after all it would be his head on the block if they failed to get a result. Besides, Karakov could easily worm himself out of a situation like this, there was no telling whom the young man knew in the Tsar’s court.
Commissar Karakov shrugged at the question, he either didn’t know the answer or didn’t care for the answer, either way it was obvious that the predatory man’s nature would be a burden on the Korskoi’s investigation.

Infuriating Vasily thought, he ran his hand through his thick brown hair, suddenly aware that he should have brought a hat with him, but he’d forgotten it in his hurry to get to the crime scene. His eyes looked over the scene once more, keeping his sight away from the Commissar next to him, the men and women of the Agency were at work. He admired them for their professionalism, he expected nothing less from his division.

His eyes ran from the huddled Agents around the victim’s bloodstain, across some officers who were milling around, to the Statue of the Tsarina. In front of stone figure, looking at him was an Agent that Vasily could not recognise in her long coat and hat. It was not surprising that the Captain did not recognise the figure as the division was large, for him to know everybody who worked there would be an impressive feet, one that he’d not really taken time to achieve.

“You, Agent.” He shouted through the nights air, “I’ve got a task for you, come with me, we’ve got to go to the Morgue, see if we can’t clear this mess up for Commissar Karakov.” Vasily couldn’t resist the dig at the younger officer stood near him, as he beckoned the woman over towards him. “We’ll take my car, its just over there.” He turned as he spoke leaving to cross the snow-covered scene towards a battered metal coloured car, that had seen better days, most probably a couple of decades ago.

As the captain approached and called over to her – he had not used her name, but it was obvious from the looks of those around her that she was the one in question – she turned and met his gaze. Her eyes, just visible below her hat, flared with sudden interest. She did not mind being out in the field, but the torn up scene was doing nothing for her mood, and the sooner she moved away from it the better she would feel.

Following Vasily to the car, she pulled open the door, and climbed inside, flicking the ends of her coat to lose any snow that had been brushed up by it. She looked out of the window towards the statue, picturing the prone figure of the woman as she lay beneath it, her crimson life slowly colouring the snow beneath her.

Her eyes once more turned towards the captain. “Who was she?” She asked, forgetting protocol. Nothing about the case felt normal, and she wanted to know why, and the only way to do that was to ask. If the captain refused to answer, as least she could feel easy that she had broached the subject.

Captain Dvoravich sat back into the seat of the car, her locked the door behind him, it was a habit he wished he’d never picked up, but years of being in the Agency had programmed him into the kind of paranoia that slowly consumed him.
He turned to the female Agent next to him, his face showing very little emotion “A Kossomite.” He replied to her question his tone quite muted, his eyes looking past her. “Sofia Petrovna, that was her name” his gaze returning to her.
“She was a Servant for the Tsar himself. She worked right here in this city at the Winter Palace, for all the good it did her in the end.”

Vasily turned back, put the key in the ignition and turned it. The Car choked to life. “So the next stop is to the city morgue” his voice lightening, as if the trip to the morgue was something to be savoured. The car pulled away and began to head down the dimly lit, built up streets.

“I saw you stood at the Statue” he began “Was there any information to be gained from there.” Vasily’s voice trailed off, a realisation creeping across his face, “I’m sorry Agent, I don’t believe I caught your name.” He sheepishly mentioned, fully aware that the question had the ability to create an awkward silence.

Katya listened as the captain shared the little information with her, frowning slightly as she heard of the victim’s connection with the Tsar’s household. This really did make things more difficult and explained the Commissar’s attendance at the scene. She only just managed to stop a frustrated sigh escaping from her lips. Her gaze fixed on the road ahead, as he finished giving the details, though she looked over at him moments later as he questioned her.

“I’m Ekaterina Blagoslavova.” She smiled, as she introduced herself, not the least surprised that the captain had to ask, she had never worked with him before, and it not expect her name to be known. “As for the crime scene, other than a bullet that had been lodge in the statue, I really do not have much to add. The body was found by the base of the statue, which leaves us with a good possibility that the bullet was fired during the murder, but until it is checked out…and if it makes it to the lab.”

She could, nor would not, hide her annoyance at the way the crime scene had been practically destroyed by the incompetence of the Korskoi. “If the Tsar and the Commissar are after a quick resolution to this event, I believe they are going to be disappointed.” She grimaced slightly, knowing that neither were good people to let down.

Ekaterina Blagoslavova, Vasily was sure he recognised the name if not the face, he took a few seconds to trawl his memory for that name, occasionally using the mirror to take quick glances at his colleague. Ekaterina Blagoslavova? The Agent he had heard so much about since her transfer to the Agency. Officers within the Korskoi had informed Vasily of her steadfast loyalty to the Bureau. Rumour had it that she was beyond reproach, unable to be bribed. Sheer dumb luck had drawn Captain Dvoravich to his current partner, but it was the kind of luck he needed right now. Silently he thanked the saints for the luck they had offered him.

“I think you surmise well Agent Blagoslavova, the culprit is the likely is likely to be the previous owner of the bullet.” He couldn’t fault her on her idea, nor the obvious displeasure that the evidence was just as likely to go missing on its journey to the lab as it was in the hands of the perpetrator of the crime himself.
Vasily felt comforted that the agent sat next to him seemed to have the same moral could as he did, he couldn’t bare to be completing this task with some one would had scant regard for the duty they had undertaken.

Turning down a side road, the Agent allowed a wave of frustration to wash over him, he knew full well that the pressure that would heaped onto the over stretched Agency already if this crime was not dealt with swiftly. Vasily doubted the Tsar’s own involvement in the concern of his staff, surely he had better things to do than worry about the demise of a serving girl. But the Commissary department would have a field day with anything that gave them the tiniest amount of extra power. He could already see the political officers forcing through draconian measures on the Korskoi forces, making them puppets of an already self servicing force.

Vasily tried to hide his growing distrust at the police forces around him, but still a hint escaped through the shake in his words. “That’s why we are going to the Morgue, is we can get there early enough, maybe, just maybe we’ll get some information that has yet to be classified.” He moved his eyes to look momentarily at his colleague sat next to him. “We need one clue, that’s all, one that we can work on, one that hasn’t already been politically censored by the Commissariat…. If it means going to the palace to talk to the Kossomite’s there then that’s what we’ll do. We’re bound to get a lead at some point, lets pray that its before anyone gets their chances to poke their nose into the issue, Okay?”

The car turned again into a deserted main street, the journey would soon be at an end as the State Hospital began to loom from the dimly lit streets ahead.

“If I may be so bold to ask,” Katya was always wary when it came to addressing people she did not know, especially when they were in a position of power, like the captain. “Do you honestly think that the palace will let us walk in there and question the staff without the ever watchful eye of some official or another?” Her voice, as she asked, did not sound at all convinced that they stood a chance in hell in getting anywhere near the solution to this case.

Her eyes flicked briefly to her window, as she watched the buildings rush passed them on their way to the morgue. She was still a little perplexed that she had been singled out by the captain, this was either a really good sign, or someone was going to get made a scapegoat, and that would most probably be her. Still, she had a job to do, and she was at least going to give the poor victim as much time and effort as she could afford.

“If we are lucky.” She let out a low inaudible sigh. “Our work should not have to rely so heavily on luck. But I believe we are going to need more than our fair share in this case.” Her thoughts returned to the crime scene, and the footprint strewn area, and the evidence destroyed by a bunch of fools. They were going to need luck alright, more than anything.

Captain Dvoravich stifled a chuckle, the agent beside him had a good point, it was very unlikely that they would have free reign over the Kossomite’s employed by the royal household.
“You are right Agent Blagoslavova. We would have to deal with some form of official at the Palace, but if the Tsarist family wants this dealt with as much as would be expected then it is not beyond reason to believe we will have some privileges not normally afforded to officers.” As he spoke the words seemed wrong, it was more unbelievable that the Royal household knew little or nothing of the murder and most probably cared less, but someone had to know something. Even in the darkest days of Khadorovian life drive by shooting’s were thankfully rare.

“Do not concern yourself with luck” Vasily tried to offer some form of reassurance. He knew from years of service that incompetence was rife within the Korskoi, it angered him on a daily basis, but he had long ago helped pull the Agency into the disciplined organisation that it had become, that Agent Blagoslavova was now part of. The general officers of the Korskoi, on the other hand were beyond control of the Agency, individually some of them were models of good policing, it was just the majority failed even the basics of being good constables.
“We make our own luck now” he continued, pulling the car into the snow-covered car park of the State Hospital.

“We have to be ever vigilant in this place” he looked out of the frosted windows at the dour stone grey building they planned to enter. “We will be able to get some clues here, we just need to talk to duty morgue technician, find out if we have any new information.” He paused momentarily “Hopefully Commissar Karakov has already used his considerate power to force some form of autopsy.” The irony of the words did not escape Vasily, the power that the Commissars had offended him deeply, but it was this power that could help unravel the beginnings of the case and help the Agency on their way.

Captain Dvoravich parked the car and turned off the engine, a light shone from the imposing hospital. Unlike many organisations, the Hospital was open at all times of the day and night, something that amused Vasily no end, half the time possible patients were not even allowed to get to the hospital because of curfew.

Vasily turned in his seat towards Agent Blagoslavova, he rubbed his stubble covered chin. “Are you ready?” he asked “I’ve heard good things about you Agent, it seems you could be the luck that we need.” He smiled and climbed from the car.
The doors for the hospital were closed, but unlocked, from next to the parked car, Vasily could clearly see into the building, down the drab, long main corridor towards. At the end of the muted coloured tiled hallway sat a large counter staffed by a handful of orderly’s, either side of the counter, Vasily could make out a stairwell, from this distance though, he could not be sure if the stairs ascended and descended from the ground floor level.

Katya climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. She looked over at the captain oddly, being know by those above was not always a good thing, and it always worried her when people who she did not know knew of her. “I’m ready.” She followed behind, walking up to the door, and passing through without further words being spoken by either.

As they moved through the hospital, her eyes flicked around, taking in her surroundings. There was something about hospitals that made her shiver. The feeling of death that seemed to hang in the air was not something she enjoyed, and there was always that notion that despite walking in well, you might not walk out again. She shook her head, brushing the thoughts away. She was here on business, and it would not help the case for her to be caught up on things that had no bearing.

Walking slightly behind the captain, the headed towards the desk, the faces of those behind it staring at them questioningly, as if seeing people was the last thing they expected. She placed her hand on the counter and waited for the captain to speak. This was the one thing that she found hard about working with those above her, she had to wait on them for things that she would normally do herself, but she was not about to step on anyone’s toes. Not yet anyway.

Vasily lent forward on the counter, as the portly desk clerk looked up into his face he smiled, slowly producing his Agency badge.
“Captain Dvoravich” he confirmed, the clerk returned the smile
“I guessed you’d be Korskoi.” She replied tersely, the fact that only officials were allowed to walk the streets at this time of the night was obviously not lost on her.
“Agent Blagoslavova and I are here on Agency business, could you direct me to the morgue please.”
“The Morgue? What do want with the morgue” the portly woman answered.
Vasily tried to keep his features passive, but knew that he was unable to hide the slight roll of his eyes as the woman replied.
“A body has been delivered to the hospital this morning.”
“Have you got a name?” the clerk turned to an ageing grime covered computer and looked at the keyboard, awaiting Vasily to speak the victim’s name.
“Excuse me?”
“A name, have you got the bodies name?” she repeated once more “Then I can check the details on our computer.”
“Listen Miss….” Vasily paused
“Mrs Grychkinova”
“Mrs Grychkinova, I need you to call the morgue technician right away and tell him that the Agency is wanting to see the body of a recent crime, then direct us the morgue.”
Flustered the receptionist fumbled across the counter until she made contact with the telephone. She typed in a number and waited for a short period before talking into the handset.

“Hello sir, this is reception we have….” Mrs Grychkinova looked up at the officers stood at the counter, squinted at the badge held out in front of her and then continued to speak “two officers from the Agency wanting to see you.” She listened intently to the instructions of the individual on the other end of the phone before putting the handset down and turning back to Agents.
“He says you can go down,” he twisted on her chair, directing them towards the stairwell.
“Just head down the stairs and follow the corridor to the left, once there you will see a pair of double doors clearly marked morgue, Doctor Lozarevich will meet you there.”
“Thanks” Captain Dvoravich nodded before heading towards the stairwell and down the stairs into the murky underbelly of the hospital.

The Hallways had been worn out through years of use, the once clean surfaces had slowly been damaged until they resembled walls in the local takeaways. Vasily hated the look and smell of hospitals, it brought back to many bad memories, too many times he had had to walk similar halls in similar buildings to see the corpse of some victim or a colleague that he’d grown to like over the years. He sometimes doubted why he even put himself through this as often as he did, it most probably had something to do with the fact that he believed that he was doing Khadorov some good by continuing in his line of work.

“You been on the force long then?” He tried to make light conversation with his colleague as they approached the double doors to the morgue.

Following the Captain down the stairs and along a dingy corridor, which did not look like it belonged in a hospital, Katya was a little taken aback that the superior officer had decided to make small talk, and it took a moment for his question to sink in. “I’ve been on in the agency for five years. My father was on the force before he was killed and I wanted to carry on what he had started.” She knew that a lot of people would consider her reasons for joining were wrong, her mother had said so on numerous occasions, but Katya knew that it was because she feared hearing the same news from a uniformed face at the door.

Pushing open the door, having managed to reach them before the captain, Katya entered and immediately had to fight the rising nausea that came as the stench from the morgue hit her. It was not necessarily the small of decay, but it certainly smelt of death, which had been removed – or at least attempted – with some very heavy detergent. The effect was merely an odd mix of the two, one becoming over powering while not completing its task with much success.

Katya walked up to the man in scrubs, the traces of dried blood and other non-identifiable substances splattered across his clothing in an eerie pattern. “Doctor Lozarevich?” She asked as she flashed him her badge, before pointing to her companion. “This is Captain Dvoravich, and I am Agent Blagoslavova. We are here concerning the murder of a young woman found at the base of the Tsarina Katerina Csabor Statue. We understand that she was brought to this morgue. Perhaps you can tell us something concerning the time and cause of death?”

It made her smile that such things had to be asked, but there may have been some underlying cause that the bullet merely covered up. So, as was always the way, procedure had to be followed, even if the answer was known before the question was asked.

The Doctor barely acknowledged either agent as he turned and moved to the embedded draws in the furthest wall that contained the bodies of the recently deceased.

Captain Dvoravich followed close behind him, uneasy that the man had ignored his partner and him so readily. Doctor Lozarevich followed an almost robotic path, finally choosing and opening a draw to its full length, revealing the body of a young woman.

“I’m sorry” the doctor muttered for the first time, “I have had little time to clean her up for your arrival.”

Vasily stepped to the side of the body and looked down at her, she was, or at least would have been in the full bloom of her youth. Her face seemed quite calm and still for someone that had been so recently murdered, thought her skin had become sallow and her eyes had sunk a little, leaving a dark rim around her eye sockets. In contrast with her otherwise peaceful look was her lower lip and chin that were encrusted with dry blood that had spilled from her mouth during her death. The Doctor noticed the captains eyes linger on the girls face for a while,
“As I said, I didn’t have enough time.” He commented as he ran his hand through his thick light brown beard.

“How was this done?” Vasily motioned to the bloodstain across Sofia Petrovna’s jaw.

Lozarevich, drew the agents attention to the wound in the young woman’s collar bone “This is what caused it. I would suggest that Miss Petrovna was shot at close range from the front. The bullet entered here.” The morgue attendant pressed his finger against the open wound, he looked up into the Captains eyes, noticing a sense of discomfort from the officer, the bearded man, moved his finger away. “The bullet ricochet from the collarbone snapping it and sending shards of bone into the body and in particular the throat, thus causing internal bleeding to travel up to the victims mouth. Of course this is all presumption until I can complete further analyse.”

Captain Dvoravich turned to his partner, he watched her expression, wondering if she was feeling as uncomfortable with the Doctors apparent enthusiasm for his job as he currently was. “Was this fatal?” he questioned, turning his head back to the doctor.

“It would have been, had she have gone untreated within a short period she would have died from either blood loss of suffocation, as the blood pooled in her lungs. Of course this is all conjecture considering Miss Petrovna was later hit with a second bullet.” He pointed to a wound in the young woman’s chest.
“It appears that the young woman had more strength than anyone would give her credit for. It looks as if she tried to get away from her attacker and was shot in the back. This is the wound that killed her.” He smiled a wholly strange response to his previous statement. “Don’t worry Agents, she most probably knew very little about the second shot, the bullet hit her spinal column.” He turned to show where the bullet had entered on his own body, half way up his back.

“Anything else you want to tell us about Doctor?” Vasily questioned, he believed he had heard all he needed to right now about the bullet wounds on the young woman’s body.

“I have my theories” the Doctor replied. “She seems slightly bloated to me.” He paused looking at both officers “Remember I have had little chance to check this out, but her abdomen seems slightly distended to me, by now most of the bodies gases would have worked themselves out of the corpse.”

Katya had been listening as the doctor spoke, but unlike the captain she was not looking at the doctor, instead her gaze was focused on the body that lay before her. The young woman, though not the most attractive that she had seen, had a pleasant look about her, which had not been lost by the end of her life. And despite the palour of her skin and the blood that marred her face, she looked very at peace, which only added to her appeal.

As the doctor spoke his diagnosis, which was actually more informative than she had been expecting due to the autopsy not yet having taken place, her eyes lingered on the areas mentioned, until he made his final revelation that brought her attention from the body back to the man’s face.

“Are you suggesting that the victim was pregnant?” Katya’s eyebrows were raised questioningly. “This could add a significant motive to the case should this be proven as fact.” Her eyes met the captain’s for a moment, before she realised that she had probably overstepped the mark in Vasily’s questioning, and once more fell silent, her gaze once more on the young woman before her, whose life had been extinguished prematurely.

Her thoughts were suddenly taken by this new twist. Had the woman just revealed to an unsuspecting lover that she was carrying his child, and had he repaid her by ending not just her life but that of her unborn baby? This certainly added motive to the proceedings, but she would not jump to conclusions. For all Katya knew, Sofia Petrovna might have been in a loving relationship and had become caught up in a something that she would have been better off not knowing. Or she could have been the innocent victim of mistaken identity.

Doctor Lozarevich looked up through furrowed brow, “Pregnant?” he pondered “possible, it would explain the distension, but there are other explanations.”

Captain Dvoravich listened for a short while before addressing his female companion. “A pregnancy would certainly give this case a new twist and a motive. Or at least a possible one.” He paused again before looking back at the doctor, who was now studying the cadaver’s abdomen with more interest.

“What’s the other possibility Doctor?”

“Tumour.” He answered matter of factly, “of course if it is that then we would be looking at an extremely ill woman before the time of death.” He rested his hand on her cold flesh before looking into the faces of both agents. “By the looks of it, this young lady was as close to full health as you would expect.”

“A strong argument against the Tumour theory then?” Vasily pondered his eyes quickly looking towards Agent Blagoslavova, trying to ascertain her feelings on the recent revelation.

“Certainly, I would be surprised if she would have been able transport herself to the Statue, if a tumour was in its later stages.” The Doctor confirmed.

Vasily sighed, it was a release of tension that had been building up as he listened to the Doctors theories. He was finally becoming convinced that some parts of this crime were starting to come together and in his own mind he now had an important piece of that complex puzzle. The Captain acknowledged his companions theory, it was close, if not identical to his own, it was certainly a starting point in a case that had offered so many questions and very little answers.

Katya looked between the Captain and the doctor, pausing every so often to gaze upon the form of the dead woman laid out before them. The woman was young, younger than herself. Being a servant of the palace and being possibly pregnant, led Katya’s mind to make some wild leaps, more so than it probably should on the facts before her. But she was not a naïve young woman, she had seen the harsher sides of life, and she knew that people working for the powers in the nation could not refuse things that those above them told them to do. Was it possible that the woman was a victim of the class division?

She shook her head sadly, and looked back at the captain. “Naturally this is all speculation until Doctor Lozarevich performs the autopsy.” She gave him a small smile. “Do we have any more leads to work on, other than trying to find out more about Sofia Petrovna and her life?” Her eyes once more gazed into the face of the dead woman, as she made a silent vow to bring her killer to justice. “You will inform Captain Vasily with the results once you have completed the autopsy?” She could not help wonder if they would be given edited information. There was something about this case that she felt uneasy with.

Vasily momentarily frowned at the Agents words, she had presumed that all had been learnt about the body that possibly could. As quickly as the frown appeared it had disappeared, possibly before anyone had noticed, Agent Blagoslavova seemed a canny investigator and had correctly noted that nothing more was evident here.

“Thank you Doctor for your help, you have been very informative.” The captain commented “We’ll see ourselves out.” Vasily shook the morgue attendants hand and left the room, stopping momentarily to hold the door open for his partner to leave.

“Back to the station.” Vasily stated, “Hopefully we’ll have some results from the crime scene.” A rye smile appeared on his lips, completely contrasting the situation that both Agents found themselves in. “If they haven’t already destroyed it.” As the words slipped out, Vasily wished he hadn’t spoken them, his own pessimism should not influence Agent Blagoslavova.

Skrovenberg Imperial Korskoi Station – 04:23am

Captain Dvoravich had tried to remain silent on the drive back to the Korskoi station, partly due to the words that still troubled him, but also the facts concerning Miss Petrovna’s murder.

The car pulled into the car park of the ornate station, which was dominated by large ornate pillars and a gigantic embossed Imperial eagle, the kind the was carved into all national monuments and government funded organisations.

Vasily parked the car, turned the engine off and turned his head to his partner. “We’ll head to my office, I’m sure if any information has reached the Station it will find us there.” If the latest findings weren’t already there, the Agent knew that it wouldn’t be long till the clues located him there, or worse the Commissioners would. That was a risk he was willing to take.

The plan unravelled as soon as the captain had crossed the threshold of the station and entered the once opulent, but now rundown halls of its interior.

“I’ve been waiting your return.” A recognisable voice split the sounds of officers milling in the open front office.

“I wondered how long it would be.” Commissar Karakov continued “Find anything?”

Vasily looked to Agent Blagoslavova and then back to the Commissar, “We have a few things to look into, the Doctor hasn’t completed a autopsy yet, he could only give us opinions.”

Karakov’s face masked any emotion that he may have been feeling, he nodded, “I’ve left officers at the crime scene, I had to return here.”

Sure he did, thought Vasily, the truth of the matter was that Karakov had most probably had enough of the cold and retreated to the relative warmth of the Korskoi station.

“We’ve brought someone in for questioning.” The Commissar spoke, “It appears we might have a witness.”

“A witness? How could anyone have seen anything out there last night, firstly it was snowing and secondly it was curfew.” The Captain pointed out,

“It seems that the lady that we brought in was awaiting the return of the young man who is renting a room in her apartment. She was looking out of the window for his return, she’s the closest thing we have to a witness.”

“And the man?” Vasily questioned.

“We’ve arrested him already. He ran into a patrol earlier this morning.” The commissar smiled, he obviously enjoyed his job.

“Any chance that he was the murderer?”

“Unlikely unless Sofia was murdered before 1:00 am this morning.” The Commissar paused, he looked at both agents. “I think you better go talk to this woman then.”

Katya, unlike the Captain, was surprised to find the Commissar waiting for them when they reached Dvoravich’s office. Although the victim had been attached to the Palace, she was surprised that someone as insignificant as a servant would warrant the amount of attention that the Commissar was giving. This detail made her feel a little uncomfortable and made her wonder whether there was more to this than met the eye. She shivered slightly as she imagined the invisible brick wall they would come across sooner or later.

She listened to the conversation going on before her, surprised that they had managed to find someone who had seen something. Just like Vasily, Katya found it hard to believe that anyone could have seen anything through the weather they had been experiencing, but it was not her place to question the Commissar. Still, there was a faint hope that the witness might have seen something, even if it was a description of the car that the murderer had used to get away in.

Once more she frowned as she recalled the torn up crime scene that she had witnessed a short time ago, although a glance at the clock made her realize that more time had passed than she had expected. She continued to remain silent until the two men finished talking, the Commissar finishing by telling the captain how to do his job. Never a good thing to do, not if the man wanted a friend at the end of it.

She watched as the Commissar left, then turned to look at Vasily, her eyes revealing nothing of her thoughts. Something she learned a long time ago, was never let people know what you were thinking.

“Do you think we’ll get much out of this witness?” She asked, her voice showing a little of the doubt she had. “If this woman saw anything through that snow, she should be hired by the military as a spotter for them.” She smiled briefly.

Vasily returned the smile, he felt tormented by his action but Katya’s words rang true, how could this witness really have seen in the wintry weather outside from her window in some inner city run down apartment?

“Maybe she works for the commissary department?” Captain Dvoravich joked, he stifled the chuckle, realising that his statement was not past the implausible, political officers had a tendency to direct investigations away from, or even to municipal targets.

“I hope that isn’t the case.” He decided to add, he hoped that his statement had not directed his partner to making rash conclusions that would no doubt get both of them in trouble. And it wasn’t the kind of trouble that Vasily was looking to find just yet.

“We better head down to the interrogation rooms, see what this woman has seen.” The Captain led his partner through the hall towards the interrogation rooms for non-sensitive prisoners, he’d walked this path many times in his career. The halls were much lighter and well looked after in comparison to the other end of the compound, which housed “sensitive” prisoners, somewhere that Captain Dvoravich was glad he wasn’t heading. The fact that the witness was at this end of the building reassured Vasily that he was not dealing with a potentially important political figure.

At the end of the corridors stood a closed door, which led into one of many detention centres. Vasily opened the door, allowed Agent Blagoslavova to enter and then followed into a small office, in the centre of which sat a desk, which was currently occupied by a balding, stocky individual, behind him stood three heavy doors. The man looked up from his card game of patients as soon as he was aware of the agents’ presence.

“Can I ‘elp you?” he asked, in a strong provincial Khadorovian accent.

“Captain Dvoravich and Agent Blagoslavova.” Vasily flashed his badge, “to see….” He paused, he knew there was a prisoner he needed to speak to, but had neglected to ask for a name, the Captain could have kicked himself, he’d failed at a basic level.

“We have a prisoner here.” His voice betrayed his vagueness.

The warden frowned “Got a name?”

Vasily tried to deftly dodge the question, “Its in relation to the Petrovna Murder.” He stepped closer the desk and the man sat behind it.

“It’d ‘elp, if you’ve got a Name?”

“I can give you Petrovna, no more.” Vasily could feel his anger rise in him, his own incompetence was causing him unnecessary embarrassment. “Listen! Do you have a prisoner, in here for interrogation concerning a murder or not!” His voice rose, he watched the warden sit up straight in his chair, he remained motionless for a time being, his eyes moved between both agents before him, he knew they outranked him, he was an officer of the Korskoi.

“Okay boss,” the warden rose his hands, as he stood up, trying to diffuse the situation, “You’ll be wanting the old gal in room 3.”

“Name?” Dvoravich asked as he began to follow the warden to the three heavy doors behind the desk.

“Ludmila Vostrikova.” He answered, as he opened the heavy door into the interrogation room.

Katya watched the interaction between the Captain and the detention centre guard. She rolled her eyes slightly, as the incompetence of the other officer caused Vasily to grow gradually more and more annoyed, which is not the best mood to begin an interrogation in. She looked at the Captain as he was finally given the information he was after, and the two began to walk into the room in silence.

She paused for a moment and looked at Dvoravich, her voice lowered. “If that is the example of the help we are going to get in this investigation…” She smiled and shook her head slowly, as she turned her attention to Ludmila Vostrikova, who was sitting at a table.

“Good morning, Mrs Vostrikova.” Katya indicated her companion. “This is Captain Dvoravich and I am Agent Blagoslavova.”

She looked at the woman, taking in her appearance. The woman was not young, her dark hair was heavily speckled with grey. Her brow was heavily etched with lines, indicating more a habit for worrying than her true age. She had a motherly face, but her eyes showed a woman who would take no abuse from anyone, which was useful if she took in lodgers.

Taking one of the seats on the opposite, Katya remained smiling, trying to keep the woman at ease. It was almost impossible to get any sense out of people if they were too afraid to talk. “We understand that you witnessed some of the events that occurred earlier this morning. If you could tell us what you saw, beginning from the time you first heard or saw anything.” She paused for a moment. “Even if it does not seem important, we would like as much detail as you can provide.”

The middle-aged woman looked between each of her interrogators, ”Ok, I’ll see what I can remember, its been a very stressful night so far.”
“For us all” Captain Dvoravich mumbled under his breath.

The woman seemed to look into the distance, jogging her memory for evens that have long passed. “It was late last night, Andrei left the flat.” She tried to hold back the words as they left her mouth, staring momentarily at each of the agents for a reaction.

“Please continue Ms Vostrikova, we already know about your guest.” Vasily replied, finally sitting down on a chair at the table.

“Ok, I will do,” she fidgeted on her seat a little then continued. “It was getting later and later, I told Andrei not to go out, I told him about the laws, but he didn’t want to know about it, he said he had other jobs and contacts to meet. Anyway I was starting to worry about him, he’s not a city boy by heart you see, he comes from Tamansk.” Again Ludmila looked at each agent, trying to read their facial expressions, unable to attain any info she continued.

“I couldn’t sleep, you know what its like to be in your own home when you realise someone is missing, well its like that for me, even if Andrei is up to no good, I still worry for him, just like I would for my own children. So I got up out of bed.”

“About what time Ms Vostrika?”

“I don’t really know, I didn’t switch on the light, my clock isn’t lit all that well, it doesn’t have bright digital numbers or anything like that, its just a good old fashioned wall clock.” The prisoner confirmed a little too much information than Vasily had actually expected.

“Can you make a guess?”

“Maybe one-ish, maybe later, maybe earlier. I’m sorry I can’t be any more help.”

Vasily put his hand into his pocket, feeling the loose cigarettes that he’d placed in their earlier in the morning, it had seemed so long ago that this day had started and he was now feeling an increasing need for nicotine. “Do you mind?” he said to the woman as he placed a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. he had no intention of paying any attention to any protest that may have come from the prisoner in front of him. “Please continue.” He commented, before drawing on his cigarette.

“Yes, of course. I went into the living room, from their I can see out onto the street. I could see all the way to the statue of Tsarina Katerina, that’s when I saw it.”

“Saw what, Ms Vostrika?”

“A car, Captain, I saw a big car driving down the road.” Vasily took the cigarette from his mouth, a smile spread on them.

“Ms Vostrika, did you say you could see the statue from your window?” he calmly asked.

Ludmila, looked to Agent Blagoslavova, questioningly then back to the man who had asked her the question, “Yes sir, that’s what I saw.”

“How?” Captain Dvoravich lent forward, pressing his elbows on the table.

“Through the window captain, just like I said.” Vasily drew slowly on his cigarette, he leant back in his chair, his coup de gras was soon to be realised.

“But Ms Vostrika, there was heavy snow all last night, I put it to you that you were out side in the snow when something spooked you.” Captain Dvoravich inquisitively looked at the prisoner in front of him, as she looked around, trying to conjure up an answer or an escape route, either would be preferable now.

“I don’t understand.” Her voice quivered slightly.

“Mrs Vostrika, this isn’t about you, I do not care at the present time about your little journey into the night during curfew. I’m sure it was just out of worry for the young man that rents a room from you. But last night a murder was committed and you appear to have information that may help us. If you saw a car on the road and can describe it, then we are a step closer to solving the crime. Do you understand?”

She brushed some of her hair aside, she was trapped in her story, should she admit to the officers that she was on the street last night when a black “Grovnoy” car had passed close by her, or should she remain steadfast with her story. She remained silent, mulling over the decision, what if the car was not driven by the murderer, what were the chances? Grovnoy’s were notoriously expensive cars, they were rare, but were only driven by the rich and those employed by the rich, that included the underworld rich, people who you didn’t mess with. Ludmila opened her mouth, she tried to speak, but no sound broke, she just moved her lips silently, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

It did not take much to notice that Mrs Vostrika was hiding something, not that Katya could really blame the woman. For one, she was the possible only witness to a murder that had the eyes of some of the highest ranking people in the agency following it with interest. This did not make it hard to know that if powerful people were interested in the outcome, then the possibility of powerful people being involved in the crime itself was higher.

“Mrs Vostrika, I understand that this is a very trying time for you, but I assure you that we are not interested in anything other than the murder.” She gave the woman a friendly smile. “I can appreciate how hard this is for you, what with the concern you have for Andrei, not to mention the terrible scene that you witnessed.”

She paused for a moment, letting the witness gain a little control of her emotions. If she broke down there was no guarantee that they would get anything out of her. “Can we get you something to drink?” She needed one herself, so it was not hard to guess that Mrs Vostrika would need one too. “Please think about what happened, and tell exactly where you were and what you saw. Anything you tell us could help us arrest the people involved.”

The witness drew a small handkerchief from the sleeve of her top and gently brushed the tears from her eyes, she let out a heavy sigh, relieving the pressure that was welling up inside her.

“May I have a drink please.” She timidly spoke,

“I’ll get the guard to get you something hot.” Captain Dvoravich replied leaving the room momentarily in order to pass the prison warden his new task.

As soon as the captain had left the room, Ludmila Vostrika leant across the table to the remaining agent.

“Its true, I did leave the flat, but only because I became worried about poor Andrei.” She spook fast, barely allowing her words to be audible to the agent, “He promised he’d only be a while, but the hours passed, I panicked. He could have been in trouble or worse.” She paused again, fighting back tears again.

“I left the apartment, I’m sorry.” She added “I crept onto the street, I tried to keep away from any lighting I could, I didn’t want to get caught by the Korskoi, I would have been in trouble if that have happened. What would I have told them if they had caught me out their in the snow, past curfew.” The irony was not lost on Ludmila, she knew that her law breaking may yield information that the Agency needed in order to solve a crime.

“Anyway, I walked down the street towards the docks. That’s where Andrei was heading to get some extra food. We’re very poor Detective Blagoslavova. We sometimes find it hard to get by, Andrei was only getting extra meat in order to fill us during the cold nights.” The prisoner watched the agents face, looking for any sign of sympathy that she could work on, trying desperately to worm her way out of any trouble that may be heading her way.

She continued “I kept close to walls, I could hardly see in front of me, the snow was coming down strong. I’d been out little more than… five minutes maybe, when a car drove by, very close. It looked very official, you know the kind of cars. “Grovnoy”, that’s what they’re called, big expensive looking thing, it was black, or at least that’s how it looked in the light.” She thought for a moment, mulling over what she had seen earlier that night. She began to speak again, when the door opened and Captain Dvoravich entered the room still smoking his cigarette. The prisoner looked at him, sinking back into her chair, her lips now firmly sealed.

“Your drink will be here in a minute.” He said, breaking the noticeable strained silence.

Katya listened to Mrs Vostrika as she shared her story with her. She was not surprised why the woman had been uncomfortable about telling anyone official, she felt kind of relieved that she had managed to gain enough of the woman’s trust to hear it herself. Of course, the mention of the Grovnoy did not help matters, but it did explain a little about the way the investigation was going. They were likely to hit more brick walls than she had first assumed. She shook her head sadly.

Before she could speak, the door opened, and she turned to see the Captain enter. Her eyes momentarily filled with wonder as she looked at the man before her. How much about this did he really know? He had been speaking with the Commissar, was he a part of the conspiracy. She shook the thought from her head as he walked into the room.

“Captain, I do not think we are going to get anything more out of Mrs Vostrika.” Katya looked at the witness, giving her a warm smile. She did not want to address this in front of the poor woman, who looked like she was going to keel over with fright at any moment. She would fill the Captain in when they were alone, or would once she was sure he was not part of the whole thing.

She leant on the table and rose from her seat. “Mrs Vostrika, thank you for your help. If you think of anything else that you might think is important, please contact up.” She presented a card to the woman. “This is my number should you wish to talk to me.” She turned and gave the Captain a look that indicated her reason for leaving the witness at the point that she had, hoping that he would trust her.

Captain Dvoravich stopped in the doorway, the door had not even closed when he had been told that the interview of the witness was over. He looked between both women before him, a look of confusion sneaking across his face momentarily, but long enough for the witness to give an uncomfortable smile in his direction.

Whatever had happened during his absence must have proved useful for Agent Blagoslavova to ask for the termination of the interview.
“Thank you for your help Mrs Vostrika” The Captain said as he stepped back out of the room, allowing his partner to pass before closing the door behind him.

The officer looked at the door as it closed, he studied it for a short while. Then, as if deciding that Mrs Vostrika might hear the two officers talking, he moved away from the heavy interrogation room door towards the desk were the warden had been situated before his unscheduled “drinks run”.

Brushing the game of patience aside, which the prison warden had been intently playing before the Agents arrival into his cellblock, Vasily cleared a space on the table, which he gently leant against, taking most of the weight from his feet.

“Well?” he enquired, taking a puff of his cigarette, “Did you get anything good?” Vasily thought he knew the answer, he had no reason to doubt his partner’s ability. His mind raced for a moment, what could she have found out, was it a major lead or maybe it was something less useful, maybe it was something that actually hindered the case.

Katya moved away from the door, following the Captain, her mind whirling with the information she had received from Mrs Vostrika. It made more sense now, the involvement of the Commissar and the mess of the crime scene. Of course, the witness could be lying in a bid to save herself, making up some story that would divert interest from her, but the look in the old ladies eyes made Katya believe that for some reason there were higher people involved, which meant that their investigation was likely to come up fast against a brick wall.

Looking at the captain, once more unsure if he was in the Commissar’s pocket or not. After all, this was a dog eat dog world, and some people would sell out for anything. Deep down, she could not help feeling that Vasily was not like that, and it was with this in mind that she made her decision.

“I don’t think I can give you too much information, Captain,” Katya started, wondering whether the walls had ears. “But Mrs Vostrika did give us something to go on, though not as much as we would like.” She laughed inwardly to herself, knowing that if it was unsafe to speak in the hallway, it would be just as unsafe in the interrogation room. “She saw a car.” Her voice lowered instinctively. “An official vehicle, or so she believes. If this is true, we have our work cut out for us, Captain.”

“Official?” he queried, he drew a large puff of his cigarette again, as if his concern could be shown through his action, before allowing the smoke to slowly escape his mouth and disperse into the air.
“An Official car” he thought, “Why would there be an official car?” he removed the cigarette from his lips and looked intently at the smouldering tip, hoping that it would somehow offer the answer to his question. His gaze looked back to his partner and then to the returning guard.
“This changes things substantially” Captain Dvoravich mentioned matter of factly, his tone sombre.
“We should head to safer quarters to discuss this.” His eyes clearly motioning to the guard who by now had sat back at his seat and noticed his card game had been disrupted.
Looking back at Agent Blagoslavova he continued “We should head to the offices upstairs, maybe then we can talk this through… in privacy”. Vasily didn’t wait for an answer, this wasn’t the time for a discussion on that particular matter. He took one final intake of the cigarette and put it out in an old cup, sat on the table beside him and then left the room, heading for the Agency offices.

Unlike most of the building the Agency offices were clearly better funded, neat rows of desks stretched across the large open planned floor, atop of each sat a computer that was a great deal more modern than many other models in the building.
Each side of the open planned floor were a number of offices, the homes of the Agency Captains and other high ranking officials. Captain Dvoravich fed his way through the labyrinth of desks before walking to an office, marked with his name. He opened the door and allowed the agent to enter the room.

The room was dark in colour and sparsely furnished, giving the appearance that the room was a lot larger than it actually was. A desk sat by the far wall, its top cluttered with papers and a grubby looking computer, behind which sat at chair and a large window, which failed to offer the room much light. In the corner stood a metal filing cabinet, which no doubt held information on cases that Captain Dvoravich had partaken in, or was still partaking in. Against one of the walls sat two humble looking chairs, they had seen better days, but their usefulness had yet to leave them, their appearance was worn and slightly rickety, but they had found a home in the empty office.

Dvoravich instantly sat down behind the desk, he rested his head in his hand and spoke. “An Official car… blast!” he looked up, his thoughts having been vocalised to all in hearing distance.
“This is going to cause a problem.” He shook his head “There are very few people who can get Official cars.” A smile crept on his lips as he pondered his next statement “And unsurprisingly they’re all official”.
“What do we do? Whatever we chose it has its drawbacks.” Vasily fell silent again, he rubbed his eyes, his mannerisms showing his unease with the situation.
“It doesn’t matter though. It should be clear to us, we have to track down and prosecute whoever has done this.” His words seemed to ring hollow in his ears, some wars were to big to fight, besides it was him and Agent Blagoslavova and he couldn’t’ count on anybody’s opinion but his own at the moment. The Agent he was partnering seemed to be good at her job, she seemed to be conscientious, she seemed to have characteristics that Vasily admired, but did he know that for a fact. Half of the officers in the Korskoi would undoubtedly in the pay of others, why not the same for the Agency? Was Agent Blagoslavova thinking the same way as he was?
“Well?” Captain Dvoravich said, “What’s your opinion, can we chase this case? Surely it’ll be easy to locate the whereabouts of any official cars during the time of the murder?”

Entering the Captain’s office, Katya felt herself grow a little more relaxed. Officially the only people involved in the conversation were her and Dvoravich. If others were listening, it was not obvious to her, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she could not shake the feeling that if this was part of some official business, there was little hope of anything she and the captain said staying a secret.

She stood watching the captain, knowing that his feelings about this case were the same as hers. She knew that this was a major obstacle in their case, and it was not one that could not be moved to make their job harder. What did surprise her most about this case and something that niggled at her was that if this was an official hit, why had they left the body lying in the middle of the square? Would it not have been easier for the woman to merely disappear?

Katya looked at the Dvoravich as he came to an end of his question. “We have no choice but to continue with the case. If the people know that we backed away from a case due to someone official being involved, then we will end up being worthless in their eyes.” She shook her head, the image of the young woman lying on the slab coming to mind. “And we owe it to Sofia Petrovna to bring the people responsible for her death to justice. Whatever she did could not have been bad enough for her to be shot and left to die in the snow.”

She frowned, the thought of some upper class fool sleeping comfortable in bed, thinking this was all behind them made her angry. “As to the ease of finding out which official car was where…” She laughed, not a pleasant happy sound. “Do you honestly think this information is going to be forthcoming? The people involved could be ‘officially’ declared to have been anywhere at the time of the murder. If we are going to find out who did this and why, we are going to have to follow a less official route. We need to talk to people who knew the victim, and them with some luck, we can piece together just who Sofia Petrovna upset enough to kill her.”

“Please take a seat.” Vasily offered, he waited for a while then spoke again.
“Well what information do we have?” he leant back in his chair, his question thrown out into the air in front of him.
“Miss Petrovna was in the employment of the palace, therefore we can surmise that she had residence at the palace. Or at least on the grounds.” Vasily opened a draw on his desk, pulling out a pad of paper and a pencil.
“We can also assume that most of the people that knew her also lived or worked at the Palace. I guess that we should really start there.”

The Captain began to write onto the pad, whether he was actually writing anything was unclear, his pencil marks could have just easily been the visualisation of his jumbled mind.
“Of course getting to see these people may be troublesome. The Palace is unlikely to let us onto their property, the scandal that would ensue would be enormous. Which leaves us the options of either getting the colleagues to come here, or met them on a neutral venue.” The phrase “neutral” cut Vasily, to even imply neutrality, meant that he thought that the colleagues of the deceased were in competition with him in someway. It certainly was not beyond possibility that the victim worked with the murderer, but how likely was it? They already had evidence that an official looking car had been seen at the sight of the murder. The employees of the palace would get very little access to such a car, only a set few, the employers on the other hand would have full access if so wished, but the thought that they would use the vehicle in such a way seems ludicrous.

“I suggest we try to see who we can talk to, maybe someone will be able to tell us some contacts outside of the Palace. Those names may prove just a useful.”

“Captain, this is an official investigation. If the palace wishes us to believe that they are not connected to this crime in anyway, they might open their doors to us.” Katya could not believe that Dvoravich could be willing to back away so easily. “Why would the palace have reason to believe that we were looking into them? Questioning known associates of victims is a substantial part of any investigation and they would be more surprised if we did not approach them for access to their staff.”

Pausing for a moment, she let her thoughts run away with her. “Perhaps the Commissar would be willing to act as an introduction so that we would not have to go knocking unexpectedly?” She was barely able to hide the flicker of annoyance that crossed her expression as she mentioned the man. If she was a less sceptical person, she would not have the Commissar marked as trying to forestall their case.

There was something about this case that was gripping, Katya. It annoyed her no end that the people in authority trampled on those beneath them. It had always been that way, but that did not stop it from getting to her. And it was never more evident than when something like the murder of Sofia Petrovna took place and those in positions of power closed the doors and pretended that nothing more substantial had happened than a penny falling down a drain.

“Outside contacts are all well and good, but you know as well as I do, that unless we can talk to friends of hers – and those are probably based at the palace – we are going to get no information that will help us get to the bottom of this case.” Agent Blagoslavova looked at Captain Dvoravich, hoping that she had no overstepped the mark.