The Silent Sisters (Charles Jenkins #3)(36)

“I’m sorry to take up your time.”

Sokalov waved off the apology. “Please, sit.” He gestured to the two chairs across from his desk. “I would offer you the couch where you could be more comfortable, but my back is sore today, and I need the support of my desk chair.” Sokalov looked down at the Makarov as he crossed to his chair. He pulled the drawer out a little farther. “Tell me what it is I can do for you.”

Kulikov took more than a sip of his drink and stared at the cube in his glass, as if he might ask for more. “This is difficult for me to say, Dmitry. For any man to say.”

Sokalov casually rested his hand on the drawer. “My father always said when something is difficult to say or do, don’t delay. Do it. Waiting only makes it worse.”

“Yes,” Sokalov said. “It is about my wife, Maria.”

“What about her?” Sokalov reached inside the drawer and placed his hand on the weapon.

Kulikov sighed and finished his vodka. “I remember when Maria started her work here at Lubyanka. I was curious, of course; who in Moscow is not? There is so much history here. But Maria told me she could not discuss her day. She said it was not allowed, that a spouse could slip and say something . . . divulge classified information, endangering an operation, possibly lives.”

“That is true, Helge. That is something we emphasize to all employees. To divulge confidential information, even to a spouse, is grounds for termination.”

Helge sat back and took a deep breath. His shoulders shook and he lowered his head. Then he cried. “I believe Maria is having an affair.”

Vot der’mo.

Sokalov feigned surprise but his right hand rested on the gun, finger on the trigger. “And why do you believe Maria is having an affair?”

Helge took a deep breath and seemed to gather himself. “I retired this year, from the parks department.”

“I recall hearing that news. Congratulations.”

Helge took another drink, but the glass was empty. The ice rattled. “Thank you. I am home nights. I noticed phone calls.”

“Phone calls? From her lover?”

“No . . .” Helge shook his head. “I mean, I don’t know. Not for certain. A man, but always he asks for someone different.”

“A wrong number then?” Sokalov lowered his hand from the drawer. He had never called Maria’s home. They communicated only at work, agreeing where to meet and when. Burner phones were used to text a change in plans, or regrets.

“That is how it is made to appear.”

An odd assessment, Sokalov thought. “Whom do they ask for?”

“He. It is always the same man. I am very good with voices.”

“Who does he ask for?”

“A different name each time, Dmitry. Never the same name. The other night he asked for Anna.”

“Always they . . . he . . . asks for a woman?”

“No. Sometimes he asks for a man.”

“I see.” Sokalov felt jealousy roiling in his stomach. Could Maria be having another affair? “What do you tell this man?”

“I tell him he has the wrong number and he hangs up.”

Sokalov found this odd, but he was now interested in the calls for a completely different reason. “Did you ask Maria about these telephone calls?”

“She claims she has no idea who this man is. She says it is possible our lines have been crossed, but if that were true then . . . I mean, the caller would ask for the same person each time, not a different name; would he not?”

“One would think.” It was a plausible deduction. A good one. Maybe Sokalov had misjudged the man’s acumen, then again even a broken clock was right twice a day. “Is there anything else causing you concern?”

From his jacket pocket Kulikov pulled out a watch and a bracelet and held them across the desk. Sokalov recognized both pieces, gifts he had given to Maria over the years, usually as an apology after one of his tirades and mass firings of her staff. Ordinarily Maria kept the jewelry locked in the safe in her office for this very reason.

“They are real, Deputy Director. I took them to a jeweler who confirmed it. Seven hundred and fifty thousand rubles, possibly more. I could never afford such luxury.”

Sokalov took the pieces. “Hmm . . . ,” he said. “Where did you find them?”

“In the back of her dresser. Hidden in a stocking.”

“Did you confront your wife?”

“No.”

“You didn’t ask her where the jewelry came from?”

“I thought it best if she did not know I had found them . . . until I had something more. I have been trying to catch her with her lover. I did not want her to know I suspected.”

Sokalov flinched. “How have you tried to catch her?”

“The other night . . .” He dropped his head, thinking. “Maybe two weeks ago, there was another phone call, another wrong number. This time the caller asked for Anna. When I hung up my wife seemed interested in the call.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she was taking Stanislav out for a walk.”

“Your dog, I believe, a gift for your retirement.”

“Yes. I thought maybe the caller was her lover and Maria was slipping out to meet him. I followed her, in disguise, of course.” He looked to Sokalov for approval.