Black Knight in Red Square by Stuart M. Kaminsky Read Free Book Online

though it was a bit late, some people were still leaving the building. Now, he thought, where are they? Did they spot me? Do they know of some other way out? Or have they already found a victim and pulled her into a stairwell, or…One of them was standing around a corner near an elevator door. Where were the others?
    The young man pressed the button impatiently, glanced over his shoulder at Tkach, who was walking toward him, and showed no sign of recognition. Tkach waited with him at the elevator. Without looking at the man, Tkach could see that he was about twenty. He outweighed Tkach by twenty pounds, and was a few inches taller. As Tkach recalled, this was one of the smaller members of the group.
    Tkach didn’t have his gun with him. He had not expected to need it. In truth, he had carried it as seldom as possible since he shot the young robber this past winter. But Tkach knew that he could subdue this one young man.
    Looking at Tkach’s loosened tie, the young man smiled and said, “I think it will be a warm summer.”
    â€œPerhaps,” said Tkach indifferently.
    â€œYou work here?” the young man asked casually.
    â€œSometimes,” Tkach replied, giving the man an imperious look to indicate that such a question was far too familiar for his taste.
    The elevator arrived, and the two men stepped inside. The operator was a woman about fifty. Tkach didn’t want to seem reluctant to give his floor number, so he said, “Twelve.” The young man said, “Seven.”
    The elevator rose slowly. The woman adjusted her glasses, and Tkach pretended to ignore the young man. When the doors opened at seven, the young man turned to Tkach and smiled slightly before getting off.
    As soon as the doors closed Tkach said, “Comrade, let me off at the next floor. Then take the elevator down to the lobby and wait there for the police, who will arrive soon. Take them up to the seventh floor and tell them to be careful.”
    The elevator operator looked over her shoulder at him as if he were mad and went past the eighth floor. Tkach, sweating now, whipped out his wallet and showed his identification. “MVD,” he said. “There is a gang of rapists in this building. You just let one of them out on the seventh floor. The others are probably there now looking for a victim.” They were passing the ninth floor, and she was looking at him stupidly with her mouth open. He went on. “You might be that victim. Let me out. Then go right back down without stopping and do what I said. Do you understand?”
    She nodded as they passed the tenth floor. He reached over and pushed the button for eleven. She pressed herself against the wall. The door opened, and Tkach said, “Now go down. Quick.”
    As soon as he was out of the car, she pushed the doors closed and was gone.
    The dark hallway was quiet and deserted. Then Tkach saw a woman of about sixty with a bucket in her hand.
    The cleaning women, he thought. They’re after a cleaning woman. He dashed past the woman. He ran down the narrow concrete stairs two at a time, almost stumbling.
    On the seventh floor the corridor was also dark and deserted. Staying in the shadows, he moved along slowly, listening, and then he heard something, a ticking perhaps, metal hitting metal. He followed the sound, carefully listening for voices, hearing none, trying to keep his footsteps as soundless as possible. It took him a few minutes to determine that the tapping was coming from a room at the far end of the corridor. Perhaps it was a cleaning woman.
    He stopped at the door, listening for a moment to the soft clanking, then pushed it open. The office was dark, but the sound was quite clear. And then the lights went on.
    One of the men was tapping a knife against a metal desk. There was a man on each side of the door. The one who had been on the elevator stood in the corner, his arms folded, a smile on his face.
    The one with the knife