The Case of the General's Thumb Read Online Free Page A

The Case of the General's Thumb
Pages:
Go to
Happy?”
    â€œNot entirely.”
    â€œMake a note of my mobile number: 240-80-90. Having seen the postmortem report, shouldn’t you have a word with the pathologist?”
    â€œI’m going to.”
    â€œGood man! Don’t leave your mobile in the car!”
    As he drew up outside their block, his spirits plunged. Once again he’d forgotten to collect their ration entitlement.
    Having pocketed his phone and locked by remote control, he still checked all four doors and the boot, before looking round for any likely car thieves. But apart from lonely figures on the track between blocks and metro, there was no one about.

7
    Ivan Lvovich returned later than expected, having met someone in a bar.
    News of a bar in the vicinity prompted Nik to raise the question of money.
    â€œOf course. I forgot.”
    Reaching into an inner pocket, Ivan Lvovich produced an envelope.
    â€œSomething to be going on with, and why not adjourn to the bar.Drinks on me. Just one thing, though, before we go. If you’re not happy, Nik, about what I’ve said so far, you can back out, go to Saratov, live your own life, so long as you remain bound to secrecy.”
    â€œI’m quite happy,” Nik responded, putting on his jacket.
    Ivan Lvovich smiled.
    â€œCome on, let’s go.”
    Ivan Lvovich ordered, and they sat out on the terrace overlooking the river. The air was fresh and invigorating. He would come back here on his own, Nik decided. It was a pleasant spot.
    â€œTo our joint success!” said Ivan Lvovich raising his squat tumbler of vodka.
    Nik downed his in a gulp, before noticing that Ivan Lvovich had merely sipped his.
    â€œI’ll get you another.”
    A young couple came and stood gazing down at the full moon reflected in the river.
    â€œYou must bring your wife here,” Ivan Lvovich was saying when his mobile rang.
    â€œFine,” he said, with the phone to his ear. “It’s now 21.45 … Understood.”
    Popping a slice of lemon into his mouth and his mobile into his pocket, he took another sip of vodka.
    â€œThings are warming up,” he said wearily. “But no rush. We’ve half an hour before we go into town.”
    â€œFor what?” Nik asked, only to receive a disapproving look.
    Taking another slice of lemon, Ivan Lvovich consulted his watch.
    â€œLike films?” he asked, his friendly self again.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou’ll see.”

8
    Shooting lights at amber, sometimes at red, the dark blue BMW sped through the deserted streets of Kiev to a backstreet in Podol.
    Ordering his driver to wait, Ivan Lvovich hustled Nik along to where, around the corner, a minivan bearing the legend “Miller Ltd Suspended Ceilings” was parked. The driver opened the rear doors, and they climbed into something resembling a tiny television studio.
    Ivan Lvovich passed Nik a collapsible stool.
    â€œSit and watch.”
    One monitor showed a corridor with coat pegs and a mirror; another, a kitchen with a round table, an enormous refrigerator and refinements seen only in such few Western magazines as reached Dushanbe. A third showed a middle-aged man bound to a rocking chair. On the corridor monitor a door – probably the bathroom – opened and a man in jeans and a T-shirt came out carrying a shoulder bag, looked at himself in the mirror, smiled, and passing out of camera view, reappeared in the room with the rocking-chair. From his bag he took an audio cassette which he inserted in a radio cassette recorder.
    Ivan Lvovich called for sound.
    â€œComing,” said the young man at the control-panel.
    â€œCan you get it louder?”
    Background hiss broken by rhythmical beats, then, from the prisoner, a feeble “That was nothing to do with me! Nothing! I’ve been framed!”
    â€œCan happen to the best,” said the other man, squatting and taking from his bag an object dangling wires. These he connected to
Go to

Readers choose

Linda Gillard

Gene Wolfe

Laura Glenn

R. T. Jordan

Gayle Lynds

Holley Trent

Victoria Holt

Ph. D. Philip Plait