CHAPTER TWELVEHe spent the night at Oleg’s aunt’s flat, which wasn’t on the cops’ radar. His aunt had died, and two neat rooms had been empty for a month.
The Founders saved this flat for emergencies and didn’t come around unless absolutely necessary; only a few people knew about it.
The sun was already coming up by the time Sasha got there. He had a key.
Just as he expected, no one had gone home — the floor was covered with port wine bottles and attractively sliced cheese and sausage. (Sasha looked closely, trying to figure out who had done the slicing — Oleg or Verochka — and decided that it was Verochka.) He saw Venka sprawled out, Oleg hugging his knees to his chest, and small, quiet, and melancholy Posik curled up like a puppy.
Of course Venka was babbling. And surprisingly, Oleg
