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〃In the same place in both heads；〃 Koniev confirmed。 〃Oh； they were handcuffed after death； strangely enough。 No immediately visible bruising on either wrist。 Why do it afterwards？〃 the pathologist wondered。
〃Keeps the bodies together；〃 the senior detective thought aloud … but why might that be important？ he wondered to himself。 The killer or killers had an overly developed sense of neatness？ But he'd been investigating homicides long enough to know that you couldn't fully explain all the crimes you solved； much less the ones you'd newly encountered。
〃Well； they were both fit；〃 Koniev said next； as his technician got the last of their clothes off。 〃Hmm； what's that？〃 He walked over and saw a tattoo on the left biceps of the blond one； then turned to see … 〃They both have the same tattoo。〃
The senior detective came over to see； first thinking that maybe his partner had been right and there was a sexual element to this case； but …
〃Spetsnaz； the red star and THUNDERbolt； these two were in Afghanistan。 Anatoliy； while the doctor conducts his examination； let's go through their clothing。〃
This they did； and in half an hour determined that both had been well dressed in fairly expensive clothing； but in both cases entirely devoid of identification of any kind。 That was hardly unusual in a situation like this； but cops； like everyone else； prefer the easy to the hard。 No wallet； no identity papers； not a banknote； key chain； or tie tack。 Well； they could trace them through the labels on the clothes； and nobody had cut their fingertips off； and so they could also use fingerprints to identify them。 Whoever had done the double murder had been clever enough to deny the police some knowledge； but not clever enough to deny them everything。
What did that mean？ the senior detective wondered。 The best way to prevent a murder investigation was to make the bodies disappear。 Without a body there was no proof of death； and therefore； no murder investigation； just a missing person who could have run off with another woman or man； or just decided to go someplace to start life anew。 And disposing of a body was not all that difficult； if you thought about it a little。 Fortunately； most killings were； if not exactly impulse crimes； then something close to it； and most killers were fools who would later seal their own fates by talking too much。
But not this time。 Had this been a sexual killing； he probably would have heard about it by now。 Such crimes were virtually advertised by their perpetrators in some perverse desire to assure their own arrest and conviction； because no one who mitted that kind of crime seemed able to keep his mouth shut about anything。
No； this double killing had every hallmark of professionalism。 Both bodies killed in the same way； and only then handcuffed together。。。 probably for better and/or lengthier concealment。 No sign of a struggle on either body； and both were manifestly fit； trained； dangerous men。 They'd been taken unawares； and that usually meant someone they both knew and trusted。 Why criminals trusted anyone in their munity was something neither detective quite understood。 〃Loyalty〃 was a word they could scarcely spell； much less a principle to which any of them adhered。。。 and yet criminals gave strange lip…service to it。
As the detectives watched； the pathologist drew blood from both bodies for later toxicology tests。 Perhaps both had been drugged as a precursor to the head shots； not likely； but possible； and something to be checked。 Scrapings were taken from all twenty fingernails； and those； too； would probably be valueless。 Finally； fingerprints were taken so that proper identification could be made。 This would not be very fast。 The central records bureau in Moscow was notoriously inefficient； and the detectives would beat their own local bushes in the hope of finding out who these two cadavers had once been。
〃Yevgeniy； these are not men of whom I would have made enemies lightly。〃
〃I agree； Anatoliy；〃 the elder of the two said。 〃But someone either did not fear them at all。。。 or feared them sufficiently to take very drastic action。〃 The truth of the matter was that both men were accustomed to solving easy murders where the killer confessed almost at once； or had mitted his crime in front of numerous witnesses。 This one would challenge their abilities； and they would report that to their lieutenant； in the hope of getting additional assets assigned to the case。
As they watched； photos were taken of the faces； but those faces were so distorted as to be virtually unrecognizable； and the photos would then be essentially useless for purposes of identification。 But taking them prior to opening the skull was procedure； and Dr。 Koniev did everything by the book。 The detectives stepped outside to make a few phone calls and smoke in a place with a somewhat more palatable ambience。 By the time they came back； both bullets were in plastic containers； and Koniev told them that the presumptive cause of both deaths was a single bullet in each brain； with powder tattooing evident on both scalps。 They'd both been killed at short range； less than half a meter； the pathologist told them； with what appeared to be a standard； light 2。6…gram bullet fired from a 5。45…mm PSM police pistol。 That might have generated a snort； since this was the standard…issue police side arm； but quite a few had found their way into the Russian underworld。
〃The Americans call this a professional job；〃 Yevgeniy observed。
〃Certainly it was acplished with skill；〃 Anatoliy agreed。 〃And now； first。。。〃
〃First we find out who these unlucky bastards were。 Then； who the hell were their enemies。〃
The Chinese food in China wasn't nearly as good as that to be found in LA； Nomuri thought。 Probably the ingredients； was his immediate analysis。 If the People's Republic had a Food and Drug Administration； it had been left out of his premission briefing； and his first thought on entering this restaurant was that he didn't want to check the kitchen out。 Like most Beijing restaurants； this one was a small mom…and…pop operation； operating out of the first floor of what was in essence a private home； and serving twenty people out of a standard Chinese munist home kitchen must have involved considerable acrobatics。 The table was circular； small； and eminently cheap； and the chair was unfortable； but for all that； the mere fact that such a place existed was testimony to fundamental changes in the political leadership of this country。
But the mission of the evening sat across from him。 Lian Ming。 She wore the standard off…blue boiler suit that was virtually the uniform of low to mid…level bureaucrats in the various government ministries。 Her hair was cut short； almost like a helmet。 The fashion industry in this city must have been established by some racist son of a bitch who loathed the Chinese and tried his level best to make them as unattractive as he could。 He'd yet to see a single local female citizen who dressed in a manner that anyone could call attractive except； maybe； for some imports from Hong Kong。 Uniformity was a problem with the Orient； the utter lack of variety； unless you counted the foreigners who were sh