Tom Callaghan - An Autumn Hunting

‘You wanted to go back to Murder Squad? Back to dealing with all that shit?’

‘It’s what I do,’ I said, with as much dignity as I could manage in a dank cellar surrounded by hoods. I didn’t tell him I’ve always believed either everyone has a right to justice, to a final peace, or no one does. Chinara always used to tell me it was my Achilles heel.

‘We handle the import, the distribution, the export. It’s a Circle of Brothers operation, and there wouldn’t have been room for newcomers, not even ones with an office in the White House, all fancy wood panelling and a view over Panfilov Park.’

I shrugged.

‘So who was he buying from, and how was he going to move it?’

‘Above my need-to-know level,’ I said.

At a nod from his boss, Zakir stood and walked towards us, cracking his knuckles.

‘I’m not sure the inspector is being entirely open with us,’ Aliyev said. ‘You may have to give him a little encouragement.’

The open-handed slap Zakir gave me could have been heard in Kazakhstan. I used my tongue to check for loose or missing teeth, found everything more or less intact, shook the stars out of my eyes.

‘Nothing more you want to tell me?’

I carried on shaking my head.

Zakir clenched a boulder-sized fist in front of my face, but Aliyev held up a restraining hand. I knew it was time for me to talk.

‘You make a good living keeping heroin out of Kyrgyzstan,’ I said, ‘and the authorities turn enough of a blind eye for you to make a fortune from the Russkies. I dare say a few som changes hands in the process as well. But so far, you’ve seen yourselves as working to keep the country clean.’

Aliyev shrugged. ‘I’ve never thought of myself as an influence for good, but if people choose to think that and let me make money, why should I disagree?’

‘Tynaliev wanted in on the operation, a chance to suck on the Russian tit. He knew he couldn’t take any of your slice, not without blood. But when your only child has been murdered, your mistresses cost a fortune and your wife only contacts you when the credit cards are due, why not take a chance?’

‘I’m all for entrepreneurship. But I have very sensitive feet; my toes don’t like being trodden on.’

‘The way Russia is now, you could expand your market several times over. All that stops you is getting supplies into the country, right?’

‘The Russians are getting more prosperous, or poorer,’ he agreed. ‘Either way, we can shift the powder.’

‘Tynaliev wanted to open up the market, but without threatening you or your supplies,’ I said. We’d reached the crunch point, and both of us knew it.

‘How, exactly?’

‘Afghanistan’s not the only place in the world that grows poppies,’ I said. ‘And there’s more than one route into the Russian market. And other markets as well.’

‘Go on.’

‘I already told you Tynaliev didn’t confide in me; I was just a useful fool as far as he was concerned.’

I patted my pockets, brought out my cigarettes. As I lit up and felt the nicotine hit, I felt like I’d won a victory, however small.

‘Right now, you feed the Russian market with heroin from Afghanistan, brought into Osh and sent abroad. Because you keep the bulk of that shit out of the hands of the addicts in our country, you have a fair amount of freedom to do what you do. You control the supply so no one else splits your monopoly, right?’

Aliyev gestured for me to continue.

‘Imagine if the drugs were sourced from somewhere else, brought into here. From Laos and Thailand through Myanmar. It would be a fresh source that you couldn’t control.’

‘Why would Tynaliev bring smack into the country? This isn’t a big market, there’s not much money, and big risks attached. A difficult supply route with the chance of getting busted all the time.’

Aliyev sat back, shrugged.

‘Tynaliev was a bastard but I don’t believe he’d want to fuck over his own people like that. Remember, he’s survived two revolutions, he knows what the Kyrgyz are capable of when they finally rise up.’

I nodded agreement. There are graves out in Ata-Beyit to testify to what happens when people reach the conclusion enough is enough, together with a lot of stolen money and backhanders safe in foreign banks, and former politicians safe in exile.

‘Suppose you get the Golden Triangle heroin into this country, but you don’t want to sell it here?’ I said, flicking my ash onto the floor. I could tell Aliyev saw the bigger picture.

‘China.’

‘Sure,’ I agreed. ‘Ship it over the mountains to Urumchi and then filter it out. The Chinese already know the Triangle powder is better quality. And there are a lot more addicts there, with a lot more money.’

The Chinese authorities aren’t noted for their softly-softly approach to addiction, and when it comes to suppliers, the most you can hope for is a bullet in the brain. Which makes the business much more risky, and therefore much more lucrative.

‘Tynaliev must know such a move would put him on a Beijing death list,’ Aliyev said. ‘Surely easier for him to just stick to robbing his own people?’

I stubbed out my cigarette, considered lighting another, decided against it.

‘Not if he lays the blame for smuggling the drugs into China onto someone else,’ I said.

‘That someone else being?’

‘You.’

We sat there in silence for several minutes. I’d baited the hook; all I had to do was see if the shark would take it or pull me into the water. The last thing I expected Aliyev to do was change the subject.

‘I’m afraid you still haven’t told me who was responsible for the bomb at Derevyashka,’ he said, and I thought I could detect the slightest hint of uncertainty in his voice. ‘Clear that little incident up to my satisfaction, and I’ll make sure you die with the absolute minimum of pain.’

‘No need to be hasty,’ I said, trying to inject a note of confidence but being betrayed by a dry mouth. ‘I admit, I haven’t told you everything. Tynaliev didn’t tell me much more, but I can still put two and two together.’

‘Once a detective, always a detective, eh?’

‘You’re right, Tynaliev couldn’t have built up an organisation from scratch. You’d have wiped it into the dirt before it got too powerful to threaten you. So he had to have reached out for a partner, a potential rival to you.’

Aliyev stared at me, his face impassive, as if I’d just passed on a truly uninteresting piece of information.

‘Whoever he was talking to would have been the ones that tried to kill you with the bomb in Derevyashka,’ I continued. ‘Cut off your enemy’s head straight away and you need no longer fear him. Then, while your forces try to regroup and secure a new leader, he seizes power. Getting rid of me at the same time would have been a bonus, drawing a line under past issues.’

I sat back, pleased with my analysis.

‘You don’t need to be an inspector to work that out,’ he said. ‘Even an idiot could put that scenario together. You don’t have any idea who he might have decided to go into partnership with?’

‘The obvious answer would be an Uzbek team,’ I said, ‘trying to get in on the Russia trade, and hit out at you. After all, Osh is pretty much an Uzbek city in all but name, and that’s where the Tadjiks bring the drugs.’

I didn’t need to explain there’s always been tension between the Kyrgyz and the Uzbeks, and it sometimes erupts into mob violence, leaving bodies and burnt-out houses in its wake. Stalin knew ‘divide and rule’ was the best policy for keeping a grip on somewhere as vast as the Soviet Union, so he drew the country borders to set Kyrgyz and Uzbeks at each other’s throat. Smart move, and one both sides have paid in blood and death ever since.