28
I have to get out of town, quick. Everyone who needs to know already knows who threw operative Gamayunov out of the window. And they also know where to look for that person. I’m on the clock.
I lock the door behind me. Farewell, musicologist Konstantin Borisovich Alpheyev!
I have one more task to do on the way. I call in at Auntie Manya’s. She lives in an old block of flats, and the letterboxes are fixed to the doors in the old-fashioned way. I toss the envelope of money in—I had already put Beta’s key inside—and ring the doorbell. But I don’t wait—no time—I just run back down the stairs. From down below, I hear the door opening. I hope Auntie Manya won’t take offence, that she’ll understand. She always did understand me. I hope she and Beta’s grandmother will have the sense to look
