LITMIR.BIZ

       there are no ghosts in the soviet union

      1

      For Inspector Lev Chislenko, the affair began on Friday, the thirteenth of July, in a graveyard, but he did not at first think this unlucky.

      A man had been spotted behaving suspiciously in the Novodevichy Cemetery which is only a block away from the Gorodok Building. Chislenko answered the call and recognized the man immediately. His name was Starov and he was a black marketeer. He was also a cocky little bastard.

      ‘What are you doing in the cemetery, Starov?’ asked Chislenko.

      ‘I like to go places where all men are truly equal,’ replied Starov. ‘I’m thinking of joining the Party.’

      ‘Why are you carrying two thousand roubles?’

      ‘It’s money I’ve been collecting for our local old folk’s holiday fund.’

      ‘Why did you try to run away when the custodian approached you?’

      ‘He didn’t approach. He jumped out from behind a big marble angel. It’s Friday the thirteenth, remember? That’s a bad kind of date. I thought maybe he was a ghost or something.’

      ‘There are no ghosts in the Soviet Union,’ said Chislenko unthinkingly.

      Starov guffawed and accepted the unintentional invitation to complete the old joke.

      ‘No, they’ve all been given exit visas to Israel!’

      Starov was still laughing when Sub-Inspector Kedin entered. Chislenko had sent him to contact HQ on Petrovka Street to find out what they’d got on Starov. But he returned with other pieces of news.

      First, a British tourist had collapsed during a tour of the Novodevichy Convent. When his clothing was loosened to permit first aid, he was found to be wearing six pairs of jeans and twelve T-shirts.

      That solved what little mystery surrounded Starov’s intentions.

      Secondly, there’d just been an emergency call from the Gorodok Building.

      ‘A man fell down a lift-shaft from the seventh floor. Or perhaps he was pushed. It seems the caller wasn’t very coherent. Usual emergency services have been dispatched, but I said if they wanted a senior officer in charge, you were just around the corner. Hope you didn’t mind, Chief?’

      Kedin was no fool. With Chislenko out of the way, he could claim this Starov case, all neatly tied up. It was a nice collar for an ambitious young officer.

      On the other hand, Chislenko was not without ambition either. He knew that the Gorodok Building was the admin HQ of the important Organization of Machinery Supply, Maintenance and Service. A man who sorted out trouble there might get noticed by some very influential people.

      It was a consideration Chislenko was later to recall with sad irony.

      ‘OK, I’ll go,’ he said, knowing that if Kedin had volunteered him, he really had no choice anyway.

      ‘Wrap him up nice and tight,’ he ordered, nodding at Starov.

      The black marketeer grinned and said, ‘Say Inspector, you’re not related to the Chislenko, are you? Used to play for Dynamo?’

      ‘No. He’s not related to me either,’ retorted Chislenko sourly. He left, carefully not slamming the door.

      When he arrived at the Gorodok Building he found the place in chaos. Whoever had made the emergency calls had certainly created a sense of emergency. A frenzy of firemen were trying to clear the building while a panic of police were trying to seal it off. The lift involved in the incident, which was on the south side of the building, was naturally out of use. Unfortunately so many cops, firefighters and emergency technicians had crowded into the north lift that it had broken down between

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