Free A Spring Betrayal by Tom Callaghan Page A

could ask.
    “Whose cell phone are you using? This isn’t your regular number. It’s a foreign number.”
    I laughed. Even in Kyrgyzstan, we know how to track a mobile’s location, and any of the service providers would be happy to earn points by helping the police. Or anyone else with enough clout.
    “There are two police cars packed with menti outside my apartment block. Any idea why?”
    There was a long silence before Usupov spoke, in little more than a whisper.
    “There was a call last night. Anonymous. A tip-off. Saying you were involved in something pretty bad, that there was some illegal material stashed in your apartment. So Sverdlovsky sent a couple of men around. You weren’t there, otherwise they’d have arrested you. And given you a good kicking down every flight of stairs.”
    There wasn’t anything in my apartment that could have been a problem. But anyone who knows how to pick a couple of locks can leave something incriminating and then call it in.
    “What was it they found? Drugs? You know that’s not my thing.”
    Usupov paused for even longer. When he spoke, there was a note of disgust in his voice.
    “We go back a long way, Inspector. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. For the moment.”
    My stomach tensed, and when I spoke, my voice was hoarse.
    “Go on.”
    “DVDs. Child porn, I heard on the grapevine. Stuff you couldn’t imagine, the sort that visits you in nightmares. Torture, rape. And murder.”
    Saltanat watched as I failed to hide the disgust on my face.
    “Kenesh, this is a setup, believe me, I know nothing about this. Maybe it’s because I’m investigating all the deaths in Karakol? Maybe linked to the fake death certificate you had to sign?”
    There was a long pause before Usupov spoke.
    “They know you’re not in Karakol. Orders are to stop and arrest you. Maximum force permitted, if necessary.”
    I knew what that meant. Maximum force obligatory. Whatever it was someone high up thought I knew, they’d make sure I couldn’t spread the word. Relentless rain hammered against the car roof.
    “Akyl, if I were you, I’d head for the border. Any border.”

Chapter 17
    I explained the situation to Saltanat, saw concern cloud her face.
    “I’m being stitched up,” I said. “Think about the timing. If I was involved in any of this—and I’m not—I’d know about you arresting the porn mule in Tashkent. The last thing I’d do is raise my head above the parapet.”
    Saltanat nodded, seeing the logic of what I was saying.
    “But why would someone go to all this trouble?” she asked. “They could simply put a bullet in the back of your head. Or a car accident. A fire in your apartment because of faulty wiring.”
    “Kill me, and it doesn’t end there,” I explained. “The case is on file now, so it has to be investigated. And so does Gurminj’s death, now I’ve reported it as suspicious. Some other inspector takes over, and if they were close to uncovering the truth, then they’d have to be dealt with. But if I’m discredited as a notorious pornographer and child murderer it all dies with me. Case solved, the culprit’s shot resisting arrest, end of story, everyone’s happy.”
    “So now what?”
    “Right now, we need to put some distance between us and my apartment. They’re expecting me to show up. If they’d had any sense,they’d have been waiting inside. Their carelessness gives us a few hours. Let’s head over to the Kulturny, see what your whisperer has to say.”
    I slumped down lower in my seat, grateful for the tinted windows of the Lexus. Saltanat handed me a baseball cap from the glove compartment, and I completed my temporary disguise with sunglasses.
    The scarred and battered steel door of the Kulturny looked as uninviting as ever when Saltanat parked outside. A steroid junkie disguised as a doorman in a cheap leather jacket slouched against the wall. He looked appreciatively at Saltanat as she climbed out of the car.
    “No need to go