"…A bomb has exploded in Chechnya's capital of Groznyy…"
"…the death toll is unknown, but the public is being assured that Governor Dazdrapertrak Tarenin is safe…"
"…chaos and confusion are on the rise in this war-torn country…"
"…evidence points to Chechen rebels operating from the north of the republic…"
"…the possibility that the Russian president could use the incident to justify a new deployment operation in the autonomous republic has been raised…"
"…sources say that massive troop surges are in the works…"
"…'we are willing to do anything to drive out the rebels and restore peace between our two countries'…"
"…will Chechnya ever sleep peacefully again...?"
"This is bad, Comrade Governor," said Tarkovsky, turning off the television. "Everything that you've worked hard for, sir, they're all gone with a snap of the fingers."
"I know that, Alexei," said Tarenin. "You need not rub it in."
"But for all that, Comrade Governor, there is one single piece of good news." Tarkovsky brought out a folder and handed it to Tarenin. "General Yevin has just earmarked possible insurrectionists responsible for the bombing of the Capitol. He thinks that if we are able to capture even one of these men, we could uncover this whole operation and bring it down."
Tarenin sighed. "I don't know, Alexei. This doesn't look promising to me."
"Don't say that, Comrade Governor. Think about it! That was the same thing that you said of Chechnya when you were elected to your post. And now look at the country! It has become the envy of the neighboring oblasts and krais. You have the power to strike back at them; you just have to use it."
Suddenly, Tarkovsky observed a change in the governor's demeanor. The spark in his eyes seemed to brighten, and his attitude also changed. "By God, you're right, Alexei! They may have struck us first, but we have the ability to strike back! Go to General Yevin at once! Tell him that he has my unconditional approval on all military operations he has yet to undertake. Also, I want detailed operational reports for every mission of his that proceeds against the rebels. God damn me if they're not gone by the end of my term!"
"As you say, Comrade Governor."
"Is he serious?"
"As serious as he will ever be, Comrade General," replied Tarkovsky. "He doesn't want to go down in history as just another governor. He wants the rebels stamped out under his reign."
Yevin nodded and reclined in his seat. He had received a strong blow to the head during the explosion, and the stresses of the job weren't helping with his massive headache. The pressures of commanding the Third Shock Army were beginning to get to him.
Tarkovsky watched as the general swallowed some aspirin. He knew of Yevin's problems, and, truth be told, be didn't envy him.
"Very well, Mr. Tarkovsky," Yevin finally said. "Tell the Governor that his message has been received."
"Yes, Comrade General."
"Diya Sorky? I've never heard of him."
Carter looked at Rosie, who looked away. "Seriously, you have no idea?"
"Well, I don't know him, but maybe some of my snitches do. I'll tell you what; I'll lend you one of my informants for now. His name is Yevgeny Vladimirovich Leninsky. He may seem a little young, but he's well-connected to the underworld."
"Do you trust this guy Klimov handed over to us?"
"Why do I always have to be the judge of a person's character?" asked Rosie.
"You're good at it. Besides, you heard what Klimov said. A kid with connections to the Russian underworld? Sounds like Hollywood to me."
"Did Hollywood also predict a queen becoming a secret agent?"
"I give up. What do we know about him?"
"Yevgeny Vladimirovich Leninsky, born on March 15, 1999 in Groznyy, Chechnya. His parents were killed by Russian bombs in 2002, during the Second Chechen War. His official description in his file at Central Army Records say that the streets became his family, the country his home. He has no criminal record so to speak until 2006, when he was reportedly involved in some petty crimes, but the state, having no evidence, let him go. He recently bought a house using money of questionable origin, as the file says. Possible links in the Russian Mafia, although that is still a rumor as yet unconfirmed by other sources. But it has been established that he is linked to low-ranking Chechen insurrectionists—" Rosie turned around and found Carter staring blankly at her a few paces back.
"What kind of brain do you have?" she asked.
"You did say everything we knew about Leninsky."
"No, not everything down to the color of his underwear. But how about where does he live?"
"That I can answer quickly. Mr. Leninsky lives in 116 Komsomolskaya Avenue."
"Good."
The rest of the walk went on in silence, until they finally reached Komsomolskaya Avenue. There was a boy waiting for them outside number 116, which was a dull white house.
"Yevgeny Leninsky?"
"Jesus is the way, comrades. Welcome!"
"Your comrades at work called ahead and said you'd be coming," he said as they entered his house. "You two actually caught me at an inopportune time. I had been eating my lunch." He took a bowl of borscht to emphasize his point.
"We are terribly sorry for that," said Rosie.
"Ah, an apologetic woman." Leninsky plopped down on his couch, managing not to spill his borscht in the process. "I hate to admit it, but I'm not a really liberated man. How may I help you two ladies?"
"Diya Sorky," said Carter. "Where is he?"
"Old Diya? He's very expensive. You will not find him easily in Chechnya. He owns a few safe houses, scattered around the country, would you believe? Diya is one of the most paranoid men on the planet, and he has all of his safe houses occupied at all times, most of the time for free, to keep the Army and State Security off his scent, as the Americans say. I can find out where he is, but it would take time."
"He thinks he can ask us anything that he needs because we're desperate to know where this Sorky guy is," said Kumilyova.
"And there is still the chance that he would not provide us with the correct address," Atolova agreed.
"What do you think we should do?"
"We will agree to his demands, as long as it is not impossible."
Leninsky watched silently as the two whispered to each other. Finally, it looked as if they had reached a solution.
"What do you want, Yevgeny?" asked Carter.
"Just a guarantee that old Diya will never hear that I engineered his capture."
"Sounds reasonable. You have our word. Now, where is he?"
Leninsky took a pink figurine of Buddha and began toying with it. "He's in a old house, near the Apartments. It's impossible to miss it, its construction dates back to the tsars."
"Thank you, Mr. Leninsky. Rest assured, Mr. Sorky will not hear of any of this."
"Good to know," he said to their retreating backs.