(# "Swan Lake" by Tchaikovsky over PA)
- Who found them? - He did.
He was on patrol, he left the path for a pee and...
(vehicle approaches)
- Uh-oh. - Three lost souls.
Like an execution, Pasha. How long have they been here?
Arkady.
Greetings, comrades. I bring you hot-water bottles.
(Arkady) Good. We were wondering why you came, Comrade Major Pribluda.
This is a matter for militia. There's no reason to think state security's involved.
What interest is this to KGB?
KGB decides what interests KGB.
So, who are they? What's it look like? Drunks, or what?
If you want the case, Major, welcome. We militia can go back to our beds.
I wonder you ever left them.
(Arkady) Comrade Major, you're disturbing the evidence.
Holy Mother.
Look at this.
Look.
No face. Sliced right off.
Good God.
This one too. Butchered.
Jesus.
Faceless.
All three of them.
Who are they?
- You've disturbed enough evidence. - Oh, stop complaining.
I've done some of the dirty work for you.
Yes, I know. You always do, comrade.
One day, Renko, this could be you.
Let's leave these policemen to it. The cold has made them inhospitable.
Comrade Major?
Are you sure you want militia to investigate this?
- What do you mean? - It does seem like a KGB case after all.
Bodies carved up in the middle of Moscow. Who knows where it could lead?
A body this size stays like stone for days.
I'd say they'd been there three weeks to a month.
I'm about to make an incision into the chest wall.
- This is disturbing you? - Well, I'm glad I had no breakfast.
Sorry. I'm used to dealing with the dead.
The only emotion I feel about one is a faint hope it may be a party official.
Be careful, my friend. You don't want this case.
Please. You don't want this case.
How were they killed, Comrade Chief Pathologist?
The two men were shot in the head at contact range.
All three were shot in the chest.
They were all in their twenties.
Go on.
Arkady, whoever cut off their faces knew what he was doing. He was an expert.
- And who are the experts, Levin? - I'm not listening.
They were there as soon as we were, Pribluda and his gang. Who told them?
You've got an informer in your office, haven't you?
Anything else for me?
The smaller male dyed his hair. Its natural color is red.
Possible indication of antisocial activity.
Or maybe he was a black marketeer.
Or...
- Or a foreigner. - Arkady, please.
I don't like to get mixed up with KGB work.
Don't worry. If one of these really is a foreigner, it's out of our hands anyway.
I've just got to find enough to make KGB take over the case.
And the quicker I can do that, the safer we'll all feel.
Chest incision!
(man) I can't understand it, lamskoy. Dead bodies in Gorky Park.
- What the hell are they doing there? - (lamskoy) Yes, it passes belief, General.
Chief Investigator Renko reporting, General.
- Have you shaved this morning? - Comrade General, I...
- The general wants to know your initial... - A fellow should keep hair off his face.
Your initial reaction to this. What are the prospects for an early resolution?
With the world's finest militia and the support of the Soviet peoples,
I am confident we will apprehend the criminals involved, Comrade General.
Yes, yes, yes. I hope so, young man. Your father, General Renko,
he was always clean and tidy, even when he was killing Germans.
It's nearly four hours since the three bodies were uncovered. Who are they?
The bodies have no marks of identification, Comrade Prosecutor.
What? No papers? Here in Moscow?
The bodies were badly mutilated. No papers. No fingertips.
No faces.
They were clean-shaven, General. Quite literally.
Well...
Your father was just as insolent, but then he could afford to be.
He was very good at his job, Renko.
(laughter)
(man) Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut.
For God's sake, Yuri, can't you concentrate?
Your button, man. Your tunic button.
It's hanging off. Wardrobe!
Irina! Irina, please.
OK, let's set up again from the top.
Remember, you're tired, you're frightened, Napoleon has you on the run.
Be careful, Misha.
- (man #2) Show me that barn door again. - (man #1) Opening positions, everybody.
Quiet, please. Let's get ready to do this.
Ready to roll.
What does a chief investigator want with me?
We found your skates. Your name was scratched on them.
Oh, those. I lost them months ago.
You reported them missing on February 4 but said you lost them on January 31.
You didn't know they were missing for four days?
That's how it is. You don't miss something till you need it.
- They were found on a dead girl. - There is justice after all.
Please, don't be shocked. You've no idea how long it took to save for those skates.
Look at my boots. See?
Split.
She was murdered. The girl wearing your skates.
The director of that film promised me new boots if I went to bed with him.
Think I should?
Winter is almost over.
Exactly. And me a Siberian. I am used to the cold.
Is your heart cold too?
What?
The girl wearing your skates, about your age.
Two others were found with her, also murdered. Their faces were cut off.
What has this to do with me? What do you want?
Think back. Any idea who took your skates?
I suspect everyone.
So do I.
Well?
Are you going to arrest me for losing my skates?
- Perhaps not. - Good.
Then please leave me alone.
It's cold. We've been skating,
but we've left the skating paths for the clearing. Why?
- To talk. - To eat. It's why anyone goes skating.
To stop, have a meat pie, pass around the vodka.
So I've brought food. There's vodka in our bellies. We're feeling good, relaxed.
Then...
- You shoot from your pocket. - Shoot your own foot that way.
Forensic found traces of leather in the bullet wounds.
A bag. You brought the food in a leather bag with the gun.
We're friends.
Enjoying ourselves.
We leave the paths for a secluded place.
We are all alone.
I am handing out the food from the bag.
(gunshot)
And I don't suspect a thing as you lift the bag close to my chest.
What about the noise? Wouldn't the other two call out? Wouldn't they run?
- Well, they don't know what's happening. - But the noise!
Hey!
The noise would make them run. It...
(# "1812 Overture" by Tchaikovsky over PA)
What? What did you say?
(cannons fire in music)
- (Pasha) You know what you just did? - (Renko) We're missing something.
- Yes, you went through a red light. - Concentrate. No fingertips, no face.
Why? To make identification difficult. But the killer shoots the two men in the head.
- Why? - And he risks making even more noise.
Yes, but if he sliced off their faces, what's the point of shooting them in the mouth?
- What do you have in your mouth? - My tongue.
Your teeth.
Your teeth!
Gutta-percha.
- He had root-canal work, the redhead. - Meaning?
Dentists in Europe don't use gutta-percha, only the Americans.
Finally, and overwhelmingly,
the dental technique suggests that the victim is an American.
Arkady.
Would you...?
Excited, are we?
I think we've got enough to dump this case.
I've just seen the report from Ballistics.
- What weapon? - It's a 7.65mm pistol.
And that's a KGB gun.
Is it that shithead Pribluda?
That's like asking if a girl's a virgin when I see her in bed with a man on top of her.
Well, what man?
Oh! (laughs)
- Am I missing a joke? - It's about your friend, Major Pribluda.
What do you mean, "my friend"?
What is it?
I've been asked to lamskoy's dacha.
He's throwing a weekend party and he wants to talk to me.
- That's a great honor, Comrade Renko. - Well, well, well.
You'll have to tidy yourself up.
What?
Oh, yes.
Well, well. A weekend at the lamskoys'.
Now, is it because your father was a hero of the Soviet army? No.
God knows, it can hardly be because of your charm or elegance.
Not all weekend, Anton. Just today, long enough to get our host into a corner.
So... what are you up to?
- I'm saving a life. - Whose?
Mine. I'm on a case that reeks of KGB involvement and I've got to be extra...
Wouldn't you two rather have good Soviet vodka?
No, Natasha, wicked French wine will do.
Who is that?
(Anton) That is Jack Osborne. An American.
(Natasha) He comes here to buy our sable pelts.
Well, it is the only place you can get them.
They say the Kremlin uses him to take messages to and from Washington.
He's a very big wheel.
(Natasha) He even had dinner with Brezhnev before he died.
(Anton) Well, perhaps the conversation would have been better after he'd died.
(Natasha) Anton.
(American man) The Ancient Greeks understood the mechanics of power.
"Justice" they said. "Justice is in the interests of the strong. "
I've heard the same sentiment expressed in not-too-dissimilar terms in America.
"Those were the gold-maker rules" someone said.
(lamskoy) You mean in America only those with money can be innocent?
No. I mean in America, attorneys do very well for themselves.
Well, do you know what you're doing here when you engage a defense lawyer?
Wasting money.
(laughter)
I read your report, Arkady.
And I can see that you are anxious for the KGB to take over the case.
But this is not like you, huh? Why? What's wrong?
- May I speak freely? - To me? Always.
It is more than possible that KGB killed those three people.
I agree.
Then it is likely they are laying a trap for me.
Why?
Once I tried to arrest Major Pribluda. I proved he was an assassin.
- Remember the two bodies by the river? - God, it's cold out here.
- You want to freeze my blood even more? - I proved KGB did it.
I moved for the indictment, and I was arrested and beaten senseless.
And who got you out?
I was grateful to you. I am grateful to you. But it's a poisonous farce.
Arkady, things are changing.
Believe me, I have more power than used to be the case.
They are more vulnerable.
You're easily the best policeman in Moscow.
And I need your help. I need it badly.
And you can protect me and my men?
Listen, our Soviet constitution is a noble piece of work.
But only if honorable men and women respect it.
Now, I'm determined to stand on legality.
KGB must not, cannot work outside the law, or they're little better than the CIA.
- But how? - Support me. Don't try to unload the case.
We mustn't give them a centimeter. And I promise you, Arkady...
I promise you, I'll be behind you every step of the way.
(knocking at door)
(lamskoy) Yes, my dear?
You are the only one here who is going back to Moscow tonight.
- It seems so. - Will you take me with you?
- At this hour? Is there something wrong? - Please?
You'd better first persuade Mr. Osborne to give you a fur coat, my dear.
The investigator's car has no heater.
Not the sort of place a girl without a decent pair of boots normally goes, is it?
Won't your rich American friend be disappointed?
I asked you for a lift, not a conversation.
What, still upset about a pair of lost skates?
- If they were lost. - I reported them missing.
- Yes, but why? - What?
You're not the sort who goes to the police for a thing like that without a reason.
Were you afraid they might turn up on the wrong person?
- Let me out. - What?
- Stop and let me out. I'd rather walk. - Don't be silly. You'd freeze to death.
What are you doing? You're insane! What are you trying to do? Kill yourself?
Questions, questions.
(starter motor chugs)
Oh, no. Fine, fine. Now we can both freeze.
(starter motor chugs)
Come on.
(engine starts)
KGB have better cars, you know.
But they don't always take you where you want to go, do they?
(# "1812 Overture" by Tchaikovsky over PA)
(cannons fire in music)
(gunshot)
I don't know whether to get deep in this case or not. Really take it on.
- Don't piss into the wind. - Maybe. Maybe not. Forensic?
Forensic picked up traces of gesso, sawdust and gold on the clothing.
- Gold? - All used in the restoring of icons.
Black marketeers. That's why the KGB disposed of them. Sodding Pribluda.
Anything else? Did Forensic turn up anything else?
Yeah, some spots of chicken and fish blood.
That's odd, isn't it?
That doesn't fit.
God, I wish we knew what they looked like.
Hm.
- No dessert? - (snorts)
- And the redhead. I want his head too. - Why not the other one?
We know nothing about him. Besides, how many do you think I can carry?
So long as you know what to say if they stop you in the street.
(man) The greatest of killers.
I'm sorry?
Tamerlane the Great.
Nasty man. His skull showed right-side paralysis,
and I had some hair to deal with.
Yes, I see.
Do you? Do you?
Well...
What about the mildew?
On the upper lip?
- Yes. I'm sorry, what do you mean? - Where the moustache grew. Mildew.
Of course.
- I am Professor Andreev. - Chief Investigator Renko. I tried to ring...
I do not do forensic work, either for militia or KGB.
Renko?
- How interesting. - Why?
Your father was General Renko. You don't look a bit like him.
My God. Your zygomaticus has a completely different elasticity altogether.
Promise me I can have your face when the breath has left your body.
Professor Andreev, these heads have no faces.
- Don't try to interest me. - A murderer erased their identities.
You can give it back to them.
Professor, too many people in our society disappear without trace.
(Andreev) Oh?
Why is that?
They fall into a chasm.
What sort of chasm?
The one between what is said and what is done.
You may not be long for this world, my fine, imprudent fellow.
Hm.
Right. First thing: clean off the rest of the flesh. Hm?
Fetch me the grubworms.
(man) # Whoa, where you're concerned, my heart I sold
# It's so easy to fall in love
(guitar solo)
- # It seems so easy - # It's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy
- # So doggone easy - # Doggone easy, doggone easy
- # It seems so easy - # It's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy
# Where you're concerned my heart I sold
# It's so easy to fall in love
Let's go. All right?
(band start playing again)
- # Well shake it up, baby, now - # Shake it up, baby
- # Twist and shout - # Twist and shout
# Come on, come on, come on, come on, baby, now
- # Come on, baby - # Come on and work it on out...
Hey.
Who are you?
What are you doing there?
I said, what are you doing there? This is a...
Stop! Militia!
Son of a bitch!
Stay away.
An American.
(whistle blows)
Arkady?
Ah.
Who did it? What happened?
Was it Pribluda? Arkady?
No, no.
I think it was an American.
Christ.
CIA, you think?
Somebody with fists made of stone.
- More painkiller? - Mmmm.
What are we doing in the kitchen? You should lie down.
This is where you keep your French brandy.
The way to do this is to imagine
they are your loved one...
these little creatures.
Oh, yes, we need them.
Don't the ones you love eat up your flesh?
(thunder crashes)
"A member of the Komsomol brigade, Valerya Davidova,
demonstrates a pelt of a Barguzinsky sable
to visiting American... businessman... Jack Osborne. "
And who's this?
A redhead?
(lift door opens)
(footsteps)
It's rainin' outside, in case you hadn't noticed.
Close the door.
No.
Throw it to my feet.
Empty your pockets on the bed.
Now take your coat off.
Throw it to the floor.
Trouser pockets.
- You're all alone, aren't you, Boris? - Be still.
- What? - Don't move.
Easy, Boris. Easy, easy. It's my room. Why should I move?
Sit.
Easy.
Now tie your laces together.
What you gonna do now? Pile the furniture on me?
If need be.
I should have killed you in the park.
Why?
- Cos that's where you killed my brother. - Your brother?
So that's why...
I didn't kill him.
You or your friends. Makes no difference. But you're the one that will pay for it.
A policeman from New York?
That's a gold shield, Boris. I'm a detective.
A detective? Lose your way, did you?
- I found you, didn't I? - I didn't kill your brother.
But how are you gonna find the one who did it? Or doesn't that matter?
I think you'll need a bit of help.
(quiet music)
Tell me about the girl in the newspaper cutting.
She was a friend of your brother's. Perhaps she was killed with him.
Ask your comrades in the secret police.
No. Perhaps KGB did kill them.
But I want to find the killer.
But I need help. Why don't we help each other, Mr. Kirwill?
Sure. You on the outside and me on the inside, looking at you through the bars.
A deal.
I won't arrest you.
You help me. How about it?
Go fuck yourself.
Wait a minute. How about my shield? I'm gonna need that.
Not here, you won't.
VICTIMS: VALERYA DAVIDOVA JAMES KIRWILL
A very good morning to you.
No, I've been up all night.
Come, come. No man can work so many hours.
Don't worry, I'm going home to bed. This is my breakfast.
The poet lays down his pen, the killer his axe, and even you must learn to relax.
(laughs)
Well, bed. I can relax in bed.
I have just the thing to open up your pores and unclog your weary mind.
This is my daily regime. A brisk walk, a leisurely dip. It's wonderful.
Even we humble servants of the state need to be refreshed from time to time.
Ah!
Well, well. This is a surprise.
You recall Chief Investigator Renko from last weekend?
Yes. I'm not sure whether he arrested or abducted the lady who accompanied me.
Rescued.
Say, from the machinations of a capitalist.
Do sit down, Jack. Have a drink. Have something to eat.
Talk to the only one of our homicide team with a 100% record of success.
I'm afraid I have an appointment with a general so old that he dribbles.
I always wanted to meet an American.
You are so... so different.
Forgive me for staring.
Only once before did I ever meet an American in the flesh, so to speak.
A young student. Kirwill, I think he was called.
James Kirwill.
Oh?
But he was dead.
That doesn't count, then, does it?
You must have noticed many differences between a man like yourself, Mr. Osborne,
and a man like me.
Man overboard.
What?
There's a sliver of food on your upper lip.
I'm just a plodding investigator. No style.
Completely out of my depth.
Three bodies, three people, shot down and mutilated in Gorky Park.
And me, I have food on my lip.
Not even caviar at that.
I somehow feel that the executioner, whoever he may be,
would have preferred somebody...
a more, um... nimble opponent.
- Ah. Finished eating, are we? - Yes, thank you.
I understand you import our wonderful Soviet sable into America.
You Soviets have the world monopoly on sable.
I always wanted a sable hat.
A man of your status should possess one. Must we see what we can do?
We Russians know how to wait for things. I'm very patient.
I watch and I think and I wait. It is my only virtue.
But why wait? I'm always happy to accommodate particular Soviet friends.
Patience has its own rewards.
- Do you want the hat or not? - (laughs)
Perhaps the chief investigator has some other reward in mind?
Yes.
Perhaps.
- You don't know? - Not yet.
First I have the hunch, then I begin to assemble reasons.
Then I...
- And then you...? - I pounce.
That's no way to catch a sable. They're far too cunning and far too fast.
While you wait and you think, and you watch...
your prey is gone.
Oh, I don't think so.
Good. Good.
Meanwhile I have the hat and you don't.
IRINA
OSBORNE
(creak)
(gun clicks)
Bang! (laughs)
- Detective Pavlovich, you're drunk! - Not as drunk as Fet.
Detective Fet!
- I told you to follow him, not... - Ah, ah, ah. Look what I've got.
One of the KGB files.
- How in God's name...? - I stole it. From Fet.
Fet! Little bastard.
Pasha!
Well, open it. No vomit on it, is there?
You mean you got Fet so drunk that...?
- They'll shoot me, won't they? - Probably.
I'll get shot.
Fuck it.
Pasha, this is Irina Asanova's file!
Put the light out.
"Expelled from Moscow University for antisocial behavior
and unwise associations,
particularly with Siberian renegade...
Valerya Davidova. "
"KGB informant: Feodor Golodkin. "
"Used-car salesman. "
(Renko) Where is Valerya?
- What are you talking about? - Where do you think she is?
Who?
I've seen your file.
You were friends with Valerya Davidova and an American student, James Kirwill.
The same file will tell you I was expelled from university for writing on a wall.
- Your friends are dead. Murdered. - You're sick.
I'll show you their bodies, their clothes. Come and see.
You're one of a leper organization. I won't be infected.
- They were found in Gorky Park. - Why do you lie? Do...
- Where are they, these friends of yours? - Out!
Out?
Who do you think got them out?
You're trying to trap me. I'm not going to betray my friends.
Whoever was to get them out led them to their deaths. You must be in danger too.
They're free.
Free.
Like a thigh, eh? Just like strokin' her leg.
Nice. Very nice.
You're in love already. Go on, take your time. Walk around it.
If I wanted to walk, I wouldn't be here, would I?
- Anna said I was to talk to Golodkin. - Who?
Look, I've got these marks, West German money. I was trying to...
- That's all right. I can deal in that. - No, no.
Gotta be Golodkin. "Make sure it's Golodkin" she said.
It's all right, friend. Meet Feodor, Feodor Golodkin. I'm your man.
You never said a truer word.
(Golodkin) Where the fuck are you going?!
- This is militia headquarters, dickhead! - Just shut it.
(Golodkin) I work for the KGB. I'm not talking to you.
All right?
Now, listen...
Pasha... open the window.
My pleasure.
This is all some kind of a misunderstanding.
How did a greasy, parasitic pimp like you come to meet a girl like Irina Asanova?
Who?
Pasha, handcuff this piece of shit.
- Hey, now look. Hey, come on. - My pleasure.
Hey, now listen. Get off me. Come on! I'm protected by KGB.
- Ow! That hurts! - Pasha, lift him up.
- Get off me! - Why are you trying to escape?
I'm not! I'm not!
What did he do, Pasha?
Ran wildly to the open window, Comrade Chief Investigator.
- That's right. - No, I didn't! I didn't! I didn't! I didn't!
No! No-o-o-o!
We were counting. When we reached three, away he went.
- You're crazy. You wouldn't. - One.
- (both) Two. - No!
- Three! - No! Listen!
That's him. He and Valerya and Irina and this big fellow, Kostia, they were cronies.
Kostia, did you say?
- Who was he? What was he? - He was a big ape from Siberia. Mukta.
He was screwing Valerya.
And they all knew Jack Osborne?
Mr. Jack Osborne? Yeah.
- He wanted to bed down the girl. Valerya. - And did he?
I should think so. Girls like screwing foreigners, don't they?
It's almost as good as travel. Clean sheets, little presents.
And Kostia didn't seem to mind. He was after something else.
You see, Kostia knew that Mr. Jack Osborne wanted something.
- That's... - What did Osborne want?
A chest. A big church chest.
That's not a nun with tits.
You know, with religious panels. Big...
- What for? - I don't know.
But he promised me 2,000 American dollars if I could get him one.
- And did you? - Yes, I did.
But Mr. Jack Osborne looked straight through me.
He got one from those three. Cheaper, I'll bet.
- Kirwill, Valerya and Kostia? - Yeah. And I can't sell the one I got.
It's too big for anybody to smuggle out. You can't chop up a chest and hide it in...
Where is this chest?
Where is it?
My place.
- Pasha, go with him. I want that chest. - What, now?
Yes, now.
Goodbye, pretty lady.
Well, I work hard. I work very hard.
Holy Peter!
Something you want? Anything you'd like?
Where's this chest?