The Case of the General's Thumb by Andréi Kurkov

Any Deutschmarks left?”
    A telephone rang.
    Looking, Nik found the instrument on the floor.
    â€œSettled?” asked a voice.
    â€œJust arrived.”
    â€œTake it easy. Job tomorrow. Ring you at 8.00.”
    â€œWhat – ” Nik began, but the caller rang off.
    â€œSomeone for us?”
    â€œWork starts tomorrow.”
    Opening the window, Sakhno rolled a joint from his supply of cannabis, and lit up.
    Nik took himself off for a breath of air. It was raining lightly. Coming to a general store, he bought sausage, bread and milk for their supper.

34
    Setting off for work, leaving wife and daughter still asleep, Viktor lighted on the bag he had taken to Moscow, and thinking of the curious weapon it contained, tossed it out of harm’s way with the case of unwanted wedding presents atop the corridor cupboard.
    He drove slowly, past fellow block-dwellers heading for the metro. Braking sharply before the main road, he sensed a shifting in the boot, but knowing it to be empty and swerving clear of a plank with projecting nails on the road, he drove on. When he again braked sharply, this time at Southern Bridge, the impression was stronger of something having shifted. Maybe the spare wheel had come adrift, and once clear of the bridge and roundabout, he decided to check. Opening the boot, he froze with horror. Doubled-up in it was the corpse of a man in canvas overalls. No shoes. Brown socks.
    Banging the boot shut, he switched on his warning lights and tried to think.
    An ancient Mercedes drew up alongside, and a bald head appeared.
    â€œCan give you a tow,” it offered. “Twenty dollars. Got a rope.”
    â€œThank you, no.”
    â€œI’ve got a corpse in my boot,” he informed Georgiy.
    â€œWell, there’s a nice good morning! Since when?”
    â€œSome time in the night. Cropped hair, canvas overalls. Military-looking. No shoes.”
    â€œSplendid!”
    â€œWhat’s splendid about it?”
    â€œShows you’re getting warm. Now’s the time to be careful.”
    â€œWhat do I do with the body?”
    â€œLet me think.”
    â€œAnd cart him round Kiev while you do?”
    â€œNot for long. He’ll still be fresh. Behave as normal. I’ll ring you.”
    Viktor parked and went up to his office.
    An hour later, though it seemed an age, Zanozin came and reported.
    Grishchenko was not at his home address, having, as likely as not, spent the night at his dacha. Should he ask his wife for the address and go out there?
    Viktor agreed, but then, realizing that if Georgiy rang, he mustn’t involve Zanozin in disposing of the body, thought better of it.
    â€œWe’ll wait till he’s back, but keep phoning. Anyway, tonight he’s on duty.”
    Two hours later Georgiy rang.
    â€œNot, I trust, distracting you from work. So what you do is, take the Zhitomir road, and at the Korchaginets bus stop – the twenty-two-kilometre post, roughly – it’s sharp right onto a dirt track skirting forest. You’ll see patches of oil, then a house. The garage will be unlocked. Dump him in there.”
    â€œWon’t someone be about?”
    â€œNot till evening. Just the odd passer-by. So off you go, and ring when you’re clear.”

35
    Shortly before eight the phone rang.
    â€œNiklas Zenn?” asked a man’s voice.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œListen. By 12.00 be at Monschau. Lunch at Masha’s in Flusstrasse, proprietor one Pogodinsky, Aleksandr Ivanovich. Treat him like someone who owes you. Establish who he’s transferred, or paid interest to, on profits for the past ten years. Play it by ear, your friend drinking and playing up as he likes. Ring you this evening.”
    â€œHow do we get to Monschau?”
    â€œYou buy a road atlas,” said the man, and rang off.
    â€œTime to get up?” asked Sakhno.
    â€œNot just yet.”
    Nik took a shower, then slipped out to buy both road atlas and