“Khlestakov” said the Inspector General as he picked up the phone. He listened for a few minutes and then said “Spasibo” and hanged up.

“You are in luck, my friend.” he told Inspector Sherlock Poirot who was sitting in front of him. “We have a murder case which may give you a chance to learn a thing or two about our methods of fighting the Russian Maffia. This is why they sent you here, isn’t it?”

“This and some other reasons,” said Inspector Poirot as he lit up his cigar. “Would you like one?” he handed the box of cigars to Inspector Khlestakov.

“No, thanks. They give me a heartburn.” said Inspector Khlestakov. “What other reasons?”

“Let’s just say that I had some meetings with 

Moammar Gadhafi,” said Poirot “and someone in the Foreign Office thought that it may be more convenient to have me out of the country so that I won’t be asked any embarrassing questions.”

“Ah,” said Khlestakov “so this is your Siberia.”

“I guess you might say that,” said Poirot.

“Well, then,” said Khlestakov as he got up on his feet “Let’s not waste any time and go to the murder scene. I don’t want to miss CSI tonight. It’s a special episode.”

They went out of the building to the parking lot. The wind was freezing and Khlestakov said

“It does feel like Siberia now.”

It took them no more than five minutes to get to the murder scene – the Red Square and they went directly towards the body which was lying on the ground in the center of the square.

“This must be a warning,” said Khlestakov and pulled a bottle of Vodka from his pocket, opened it and drank almost half of it.

“How do you know that?” asked Poirot.

“Why else would anyone get out of his house in such a blizzard unless they wanted to warn somebody?”

“Who are “they”?” asked Poirot.

“In Russia nobody asks this question,” said Khlestakov.

“Why not?” asked Poirot.

“Because the answer is clear,” said Khlestakov “It must be the enemies of the people, the same guys that you call the Russian Maffia. They have one goal in mind – to give Russia a bad name. Do you want some Vodka?”

“No, thanks,” said Poirot “This must save you a lot of investigative work, then.”

“Yes, it does,” said Khlestakov.

Both of them looked at the body which laid on the freezing ground – it was a gorgeous blonde wearing an overcoat and holding a brown purse in her hand.

“Well, we can rule out one thing,” said Poirot.