Tom Callaghan - An Autumn Hunting

‘And then all the might of a vengeful government to hunt me down,’ I said. ‘This way, you kept them off my back so that I could hook up with Aliyev.’

Tynaliev nodded.

‘For a Public Enemy Number One, you kept yourself well hidden.’

‘You’d given orders to shoot on sight,’ I reminded him. ‘And I know there wouldn’t have been a posthumous rehabilitation and a ceremony honouring me at my graveside. “Borubaev, A, died in the line of duty”.’

Tynaliev shrugged. The life of one police officer, more or less, didn’t tip any scales as far as he was concerned. What mattered was the success of his plan.

‘You know what I wanted; to set my enemies against each other, then behead them at their point of weakness.’

With me as the axe, I thought.

‘Yusup got taken off the board, so the Chinese will be looking around for someone they trust to negotiate future drug sales,’ Tynaliev went on. ‘There’s a success right there.’

‘But Aliyev is still on the scene,’ I said. ‘It’s just a momentary blip in his business, a nuisance, that’s all.’

‘Maybe so, but he still has to find new markets in South-East Asia. That’s why tying up with the Thais would have been a perfect fit, with access to Malaysia as an added bonus. And I’m sure he’s still wondering who tried to kill him with the bomb in Derevyashka. Before you ask, it wasn’t me. Killing him would have just moved his second in command into the top spot.’

Tynaliev took another drink, lit a cigarette, stamped his feet against the cold.

‘Winter’s coming, and it’s going to be a harsh one,’ he said.

‘You still haven’t explained why you wanted Aliyev and Quang to team up,’ I said, taking a cigarette from the pack he offered. I saw one of the bodyguards take a quick step forward, then settle back as Tynaliev sparked a flame for me.

‘I didn’t,’ Tynaliev said, blowing smoke into the air, watching it flower white and green, blue and red, before dissolving into the night air. ‘I want them to destroy each other. Aliyev dependent on selling, the Thais dependent on buying, both of them unwilling to trust the other. How long do you think a partnership like that will last?’

‘Depends on the money,’ I said. ‘A few hundred million can mean true love.’

Tynaliev snorted and threw away his cigarette. The sparks scattered along the ground, then died.

‘It’s not about money,’ he said, ‘not really. I could have retired years ago, fucked off to somewhere warm, sat on a sunny beach, cold beer in one hand, hot tart in the other, no looking over my shoulder to see which bastard wants to plant one in my head.’

‘But you didn’t,’ I said, ‘because that way you keep the money, but lose the power.’

‘I think you’re starting to understand the ways of the world, Inspector,’ Tynaliev chuckled. ‘And about time too.’

So you’ve got Aliyev selling spice to the Thais, the Thais selling spice to Russia. And then?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Maybe I’m not devious enough to understand all the intricacies,’ I said.

‘If they do that, it puts both of them out of their comfort zone, puts them at risk,’ Tynaliev explained, as if deciphering algebra for a particularly stupid pupil. ‘The Russian mafia that have been dealing with Aliyev for years aren’t going to like him supplying anything that might threaten their monopoly, their profits. Especially if those profits are going to end up in the pockets of the Thai mafia.’

Tynaliev ticked off each point on his fingers as he made them.

‘The Russian government isn’t going to want spice arriving on their doorstep, as if they didn’t have enough problems with krokodil already. So they put pressure on the Thais, the Thai authorities clamp down on Quang, Quang stops buying, and Aliyev runs out of money. And that won’t please the Circle of Brothers.’

He paused, transformed his outstretched fingers into a fist, slammed it into the palm of his other hand.

‘And once you run out of money, you run out of power. Even you know what happens then.’

I nodded; this part of the equation I knew by heart.

‘A new pakhan . A new realignment of the troops. Some promotions, some demotions, a lot of unpleasant dismissals.’

‘Plus the need to renegotiate with all the other pakhans ,’ Tynaliev added. ‘All of which weakens the structure and causes uncertainty.’

‘So they all start killing each other, you announce that the Circle of Brothers is being smashed, and you shyly take the credit and have your backside measured for the president’s chair.’

Tynaliev gave me an old-fashioned look.

‘Why the fuck would I want that?’ he said, genuinely puzzled. ‘I already know who the most powerful man in this country is.’

‘So you just gain more prestige and power,’ I said, watching as the lights turned the minister’s face a sinister red.

‘Oh, a little more than that,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’ll even be able to work that out. I doubt it though.’

Tynaliev waved his bodyguards to draw closer.

I suppose your Uzbek tart is hanging around somewhere,’ he said. ‘Well, she has a Get Out Of Jail card this time. But tell her not to linger here.’

I hadn’t thought Tynaliev would let go of every advantage he could seize; perhaps he was getting sentimental in his old age, but I had my doubts.

‘Assassinating me got you into Aliyev’s camp,’ Tynaliev said. ‘Shooting me guaranteed your credentials, and after that, following the money was child’s play.’

Tynaliev had an odd idea of playground adventure, I thought, but kept it to myself.

‘What made you so sure Aliyev would send me to negotiate with Quang?’ I asked.

Tynaliev favoured me with another of those shark smiles.

‘I knew he was setting up a deal. And who better to send than a man whose history as a smart guy gone rogue couldn’t be questioned? Learn to play chess, Inspector, then you can always see a few moves ahead.’

The bodyguards surrounded Tynaliev, and the group set off towards Frunze, where I knew a long black car with tinted windows would be waiting. Tynaliev turned with a parting shot.

‘One more thing, Inspector. I’m sure Kanybek Aliyev is looking for you. I suggest you find him first.’

Autumn mist still drifted through the tops of the oak trees as I walked through the park, tendrils hanging from the branches, lingering the way strangers and the homeless do as if uncertain of their destination. The life-sized statues of people set around the park paths wore the mist like diaphanous gauze scarves. It was almost noon, and I could see the statue of Kurmanjan Datka in the distance.

To the Kyrgyz people, Datka symbolises the best in courage, by the way she led the Kyrgyz people. When the Russian Empire finally annexed what was then called the Alai region, Datka realised resistance was futile. When her favourite son was sentenced to death, she resisted the temptation to plead for mercy, refused to allow the Kyrgyz to rise up against the Russians on her behalf. She even attended her son’s execution in the hope conflict would be avoided, at a terrible personal cost.

I reached the statue, looked around, lit a cigarette. Kurmanjan looked stern, her jaw jutting forward, hair hidden by a traditional scarf. Her impassive stone face suggested a joke would be treated as a sign of frivolity, maybe even impertinence. I guess ruling a country is no laughing matter. There was no sign of Saltanat, but then I was slightly early. My tobacco smoke drifted in a thin blue haze into the air. Something about the air told me winter was not far away, that in a few weeks, snow would cover where I was standing.