The Matryoshka Affair by Aleksandar Obradovic
Forensic psychiatrist Dr. Milovan Nedeljković gets assigned to a secretive case in Montenegro's Russian embassy.
If there was one thing he hated, it was calls to his work phone outside office hours. He waited, hoping the phone would finally stop ringing. Jovana and the boys were tense. They knew how demanding his job was and that, because of it, he was often absent even in thought.
When the ringing sounded for the fourth time, he could no longer ignore it. Someone was persistent in trying to reach him, which had to mean something urgent had happened. He walked over to the phone and grabbed it nervously. It turned out to be the chief of police who needed Milovan so badly. He pressed the green button and answered.
"Hello?"
"I was just about to send a patrol to check whether something had happened to you. Why did it take you so long to answer?"
"You know how it is. I respect working hours, but I value my free time with family even more, and as you know, I do not get much of it."
"So, what, man, are you trying to tell me you heard the phone and simply refused to answer?"
"If you wish, you may interpret it that way. I know you do not believe it, but being a good parent is harder than being a good police officer. Even the potential sanctions from the family are harsher."
"All right, all right... Sometimes you really are a difficult man, you know that? Something very important has come up, so tomorrow do not come to work. Instead, report to the Russian embassy. His Excellency Anatoly Balbatov is expecting you."
"Why would anyone at the Russian embassy be expecting me?"
"That is not something for the phone. That idiot Janković will come pick you up in the morning. Whatever happens at the embassy must not be repeated to a living soul. Not a word to your families, friends, or even me. In a few days, the newspapers will publish an article saying the ambassador requested to meet the leading members of our special operations team, so no one will suspect you are there on official business. Anatoly is a Doctor of Slavic Studies, by the way. He has spent more than ten years in diplomatic circles, and the Balkans are his specialty, which is why he speaks our language fluently. I do not need to point out that I am counting on you and Inspector Janković. You know how important the Russians are to us. Do we understand each other?"
"Of course!"
"That is all, then. You may now return to your role as a caring parent. Good night and give my regards to Jovana and the children!"
"I will, and please give my regards to your family as well. Good night!"
After ending the call, he noticed Sergej watching him curiously.
"Dad, do you have to go on a mission now?"
"A mission? My only mission tonight is a Harry Potter marathon."
A sigh of childish relief could be heard, and both Sergej and his younger brother Đorđe came over and hugged their father. Milovan lifted them both up and carried them toward the couch, where they continued watching the film together with Jovana.
While the Harry Potter gang cast spells on the television screen, Milovan's thoughts were far away, trying to grasp what the coming day would bring...
The sun had barely risen when Inspector Janković came to pick him up. Morning was the only time of day when the inspector was not talkative.
"Janković, what do you expect from today?"
"Honestly, boss, I hope our Russian brothers know how to make good Turkish coffee, otherwise I am useless."
"More likely they will greet us with tea."
"Well, if only it came with vodka..."
Since the streets were still empty, they reached their destination quickly. As they approached the embassy, Milovan tried to notice as many details as possible.
A tall fence and rows of conifers planted beside it concealed the courtyard from view. Armed security guards stood at the main gate and politely let them through, making it clear their visit was expected. Two guards with German shepherds patrolled the courtyard, the dogs sniffing every inch ahead of them. Some kind of internal investigation had obviously been launched. The approach to the building was covered by video surveillance, and from this close the embassy looked like the safest place on the planet.
Standing on the entrance steps was a greying gentleman in a navy suit, with long moustaches and a relaxed stomach. He extended his hand, his face spreading into a smile as wide as Siberia.
"Welcome, gentlemen! Allow me to introduce myself. Anatoly Petrovich Balbatov. I have been eagerly expecting you."
"Milovan Nedeljković, Your Excellency! It is an honour to be of service to you."
Milovan bowed theatrically to the ambassador, and then Inspector Janković, following his example while introducing himself, did the same.
"Please follow me to the salon, where I shall explain the problem for which I require your assistance over morning tea."
They followed their host, admiring the lavish interior of the embassy...
They found themselves in a room decorated like a Russian dacha from the beginning of the twentieth century. Wood was the dominant material. While sipping tea, Milovan enjoyed the sight of an enormous bookshelf. He wondered how long it must have taken to arrange all the books and whether someone had been assigned the task of dusting them. Meanwhile, Inspector Janković was fascinated by a baked apple. Until this morning, he could not even imagine an apple being baked, and now it was the very thing saving his day.
Unlike the rest of the embassy, Ambassador Balbatov's salon contained no video surveillance nor any visible trace of electronic devices, apart from the lighting and a landline telephone. The walls not occupied by bookshelves were decorated with paintings and photographs of famous Russians. Behind the armchair in which their host sat stood a glass-and-wood display cabinet filled with various national ornaments and symbols.
Milovan had already begun to wonder what the host was waiting for when the ambassador pulled a box of cigars from his desk and offered them to the guests. After they declined, he took one for himself, pulled a box of matches from his pocket, and lit it. The scent spread through the room with the smoke, and then Anatoly sighed deeply and opened his heart.
"First, I want you to know how grateful I am that you found the time to try to help me. I have been here for more than three years now, and I must admit that the achievements of your team have caught my attention. Thanks to our intelligence service, I know you are behind far more cases than the public could ever suspect. That is why I was forced to ask your chief to assign me his best men. I must warn you that this matter is delicate, and absolute discretion is essential. If any of this reaches the public, everything could escalate into an international scandal with catastrophic consequences."
The inspector seemed shaken awake from his morning stupor by those words. He stared at the ambassador with an expression that clearly said, 'What have we gotten ourselves into this time?' Milovan remained calm and assured their host he could rely on their discretion.
"You may relax. Both the inspector and I are trustworthy men who understand how serious our work is. We would never risk destroying a hard-earned reputation through indiscretion. Is that not right, Inspector?"
After his superior's explanation, all the inspector could do was nod in agreement. Only then did the Russian seem to relax and free himself from the tension gripping him. He stood, approached Milovan, slipped a hand into his jacket pocket, and placed a small colourful object on the table in front of the forensic psychiatrist. Milovan examined it carefully before taking it into his hand and turning it over, studying every detail.
"Doctor, do you know what this is?" the ambassador asked.
"Of course, Your Excellency. This is an example of a babushka doll, a national doll originating from your country. A combination of tradition and art. All the figures are made of wood and usually depict Russian women in traditional dress. What makes these dolls special is that each one contains a series of smaller identical figurines hidden inside."
As he spoke, he separated the doll he was holding. Inside it was another identical figure, only smaller. He repeated the process and continued speaking.
"A babushka usually consists of six to eight figurines, though it can contain considerably more. Naturally, a greater number requires a more skilled craftsman."
"Very good, Mr. Nedeljković! I must admit I enjoy having an informed man before me. I should add that the proper name is matryoshka, but because elderly women are painted on the figures, the term babushka became widespread around the world. You see, the matryoshka you are holding was made by my late grandfather. He crafted it while he was exiled to Siberia by the regime. In his darkest moments, he thought of his family and spent his nights carving those figurines. With God's help and sheer willpower, he survived that frozen hell. You can imagine how difficult it was for a pardoned convict to reintegrate into society, let alone for such a man's grandson to become a diplomat... But I did not bring you here to listen to my history."
The ambassador paused for a moment, as if gathering strength to finally say what troubled him.
"I brought the matryoshka with me from Russia. As you can see, it consists of seven figurines. More precisely, it originally had eight parts, but the eighth, the smallest and the only one that could not be opened, was left by my grandfather to his daughter, my aunt. When she married, that final piece became the inheritance of another family. The important thing is that my doll was unusual and incomplete without that last piece. I used that peculiarity to hide something valuable inside it. After placing the object into the seventh figurine, I had it sealed. Then I assembled the matryoshka and returned it to the cabinet. No one besides me had the slightest idea what was inside it. Everyone believed the doll held only sentimental value for my family, so there was no fear someone might accidentally open it and discover the secret. Yesterday evening, when I entered my office, I found the doll dismantled on the table. As you may guess, all seven parts had been opened, and there was no trace left of the item I had hidden inside. My perfect safe was discovered and opened, and something more important than my own life has vanished!"
For several moments, silence filled the room. Milovan Nedeljković continued examining the colourful piece of wood in his hands, while Inspector Janković realized the ambassador's story had captivated him so completely that he had allowed the remainder of his baked apple to grow cold.
"Your case is exceptionally interesting," Milovan said. "I have never heard of anything like it. Earlier, you said you had the smallest, seventh figurine sealed, which means someone did that for you. Are you certain that person did not discover what it was all about?"
"Believe me, Doctor, that person never had the opportunity to reveal my secret to anyone but the Lord Himself. You may safely exclude that detail from the story."
"Very well, if you say so. The next thing I need to know, and without which my further work is impossible, is the truth about the object hidden inside the doll. I refuse to work on a case I cannot grasp from either end. So, if you truly want my help, lay all your cards on the table. We must trust one another if you want us to solve this case."
At the thought of having to share his secret with someone, the ambassador's mouth went dry. He thought feverishly. He knew the forensic psychiatrist's objection was justified and that he had nothing left to lose, especially now that the secret had already been exposed. Recovering the valuable item mattered more, if it was still possible at all. Every moment lost in the investigation increased the chances of complete failure, and so the Russian decided to speak openly...
"Before I reveal all the details, I have one more question... Does either of you know who Karl Peter Fabergé was?"
Janković spoke. "Looks like we are continuing with an interesting history lesson. I have no doubt my chief knows the answer. Personally, I would guess he was some famous painter or writer, though, as usual, I suspect I am wrong."
"You are right, Janković," said Milovan. "I mean, you are right when you say you are wrong, but also when you say that I know who he was. Karl Peter Fabergé was a Russian jeweller whose talent attracted the attention of the imperial family. They commissioned a total of fifty unique Easter eggs from him. They were crafted from gold, silver, and platinum, and decorated with precious stones and various surprises hidden inside, such as watches, lockets, and similar trinkets. After the fall of the Romanovs, many of the eggs vanished without a trace. Most of them have since found homes among wealthy and powerful collectors around the world, except for a smaller number that are still officially considered lost."
"Fascinating!" said the ambassador. "You truly are a treasury of knowledge. Thanks to that, I can keep my explanation brief. With the return of our nation's power came the idea that all national treasures should once again be gathered, because no country can be considered a true power while its riches remain in foreign hands. I was one of the people tasked with locating the missing Fabergé eggs. Unlimited financial resources were placed at my disposal. Just when I had lost hope and was preparing to abandon the search, I was contacted by the heir to a German noble family who claimed to possess the Fabergé clock egg that had once been the third egg in the imperial collection, and about which nothing had been heard for decades.
"Since an enormous sum of money was involved, it was not enough merely to confirm visually that the gentleman possessed the original. It was necessary to obtain a sample and send it to Russia for analysis by our experts. An agreement was reached, and the German handed me a fragment of the egg's diamond ornamentation. I hid that sample inside my matryoshka in an attempt to throw foreign intelligence services off my trail, as they have been trying to sabotage our undertaking. The plan was to wait until the rumours about us obtaining part of the egg had settled down and then send the diamond sample to Russia for analysis. I placed the doll in the display cabinet, out in the open, because every secret is easiest to hide in plain sight... Or at least that was what I believed until last night. Now you know everything, and I beg you to help me, if it is still possible. I am desperate. I have informed no one in Russia about the incident. Since last night, the entire staff has been involved in the search. The cameras recorded no one entering or leaving the embassy, which means the person bold enough to do this is most likely still inside the building."
When the ambassador finished explaining his problem, Inspector Janković was the first to speak.
"There is something I do not understand. From your story, I gather that you do not believe someone could have picked up the doll out of curiosity, played with it, and accidentally discovered the secret?"
Milovan answered instead of Anatoly.
"If that had happened, the curious individual would have reassembled the doll and returned it to the cabinet in order to buy some time to slip out of the embassy without drawing suspicion. Another problem with your theory is the fact that the doll had been sealed and could not simply be opened. If you come closer and look carefully, you will see that now, after being forced open, it has been completely ruined and can no longer be put back together. Everything points to someone doing this deliberately to send His Excellency a clear message that the secret of the matryoshka had been uncovered. What interests me is this: who had access to the salon? And which of the people living in this building knew about your assignment to locate the missing Fabergé eggs?"
"Everyone who has ever entered the embassy has technically had access to the salon, but since it is a room arranged according to my personal taste, only those whom I invite or permit to enter spend time here. Apart from the two housekeepers responsible for keeping the salon clean, members of my family regularly visit, as do certain guests and associates, naturally only at my invitation. As you can see, the list is not a short one. As for yesterday, we had no visitors from outside the embassy. Only my wife knew about my assignment. As they say, one should keep no secrets from one's spouse."
"And the embassy staff? Are they all trustworthy people, and have there been any recent changes among them? How many people live here?"
"The staff consists of three cooks, four housekeepers, two private tutors for my children, and the chief of security. In addition to them, there are bodyguards and around a dozen specially trained operatives. They are all Russians, and until now their loyalty has never been in question. They also worked for the previous ambassador, so they were already here when I arrived in Montenegro. My wife and our three children came with me, along with attachés, secretaries, and new administrators. As you can see, it is practically a small Russian settlement."
"Have you checked whether the room might have been bugged or placed under some form of video surveillance?"
"There is no possibility of that. Special jamming devices are hidden within the walls, blocking all signal-transmitting equipment. If you check your mobile phones, you will see they have no reception. I know it may not look like it, but this is a genuine dead room. Everything said or done here remains hidden from anyone outside it."
"So, we are looking for someone capable of discovering your secret while simultaneously betraying their loyalty to their country. Hm. This will not be an easy task. I hope you have files containing personal information on everyone staying at the embassy. You said there is no possibility that an outsider entered the salon unnoticed yesterday, so we can discard the idea of an intruder. Just one more thing. When was the last time you were in the salon and everything still appeared normal?"
"Let me think for a moment... Yesterday after lunch, sometime around three o'clock, I was here and everything was in its place. After that I left for a business meeting, and when I returned, shortly before dinner, I found the matryoshka taken apart. As for the information on the people living here, you will have all of it in front of you within half an hour. I place this salon at your disposal so that you may conduct your investigation properly. I believe in you."
"I hope we prove worthy of your trust."
Anatoly left the room to retrieve the requested documents, leaving Milovan and Inspector Janković alone.
"Chief, I have good news for you right away," said Janković. "I studied Russian in school, so I will be able to question all the suspects."
"I have a feeling you will not need any Russian for that. They have all been here long enough, and I have no doubt they have mastered our language by now. Still, it is good to know the education system managed to place something useful inside your head after all. Once our host returns with the files, I will put together a quick profile of the household members and give you a list of the people I want questioned. So, how did you like the apples?"
"While they were warm, I was genuinely delighted. Thank you for giving up your portion for me. Once they cooled down, however, it became a different story..."
"You're welcome. My stomach wakes up much later than my brain, so before eleven o'clock I cannot handle anything except liquids."
"What do you think of the case, chief? I must admit, none of this makes any sense to me."
"This time, I agree with you. There are too many unknowns in this equation and not enough information. I hope that changes soon."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a young Russian man carrying a package in his hands. He walked ahead of the ambassador, placed the bundle of documents on the table, bowed to them like a soldier, and then left the room. Their host, excited that the real investigation was finally beginning, informed them that he would be in the bedroom with his wife and children and that, if they needed him, they should simply pick up the telephone receiver and press number one.
The doctor and the inspector were already deeply absorbed in the files and did not even notice when they were left alone once more...
After three hours of carefully reading the documentation and biographies of everyone living inside the embassy, Milovan called for the host and handed him a list of eight names, requesting that Inspector Janković be allowed to conduct interviews with them.
Anatoly complied with Doctor Nedeljković's request, then suggested that, while the inspector carried out the questioning, the two of them pass the time by playing chess.
They sat in armchairs opposite one another. The ambassador once again indulged in the pleasures of his cigar while Milovan sat in the smoke, devising a new trap for his opponent's white king.
"Checkmate," the forensic psychiatrist stated in an icy voice.
"Either I am too gracious a host, or you are unbeatable. Choose whichever explanation pleases you more."
"I am not bad, I admit that much, but I think your thoughts are far away from the board. Inspector Janković will return soon and, I hope, shed some light on this mystery. If there is anything else you wish to tell me now that we are alone, feel free."
"There is something, although I am not certain it could influence the course of the investigation."
"Allow me to judge that. What is it?"
"Well, more precisely, it is not something but someone. A person who often spent time in this salon despite not being a resident of the embassy. But you see, this is someone I would trust with my life, so... Forget it."
"I think I understand why you hesitate to tell me. Is it a woman? Do you have a mistress?"
"Companion would be a more fitting word. You see, Svetla and I have been married for around twenty years. The life of a diplomat means meeting many people, and sometimes the family suffers because of it. I met Masha after arriving here. She is the widow of one of our older diplomats. After her husband died, she remained in Podgorica. She even buried him here, in your city cemetery. We have been involved for two years now. In order not to damage my family's reputation, I meet with her exclusively in this salon, and only when Svetla and the children are not home. Well, now you finally know everything, and I must admit I feel better for having said it. Masha knows nothing about my assignment, so you may immediately remove her from your list of suspects."
"It is still too early for conclusions. If I understood correctly, since you meet here, does that mean the embassy staff know about you and Masha?"
"Of course. Them and Svetla as well. Only the children do not know. I know you probably judge me and fail to understand, but the life of a diplomat is far from simple. Especially when one represents a country like Russia. My head is practically always in the noose. The stronger you are, the stronger your enemies become. My wife understands that perfectly. At first, she was jealous, but now everything is as it should be. The two of them no longer see each other, so Svetla pretends Masha does not even exist."
"Could someone have recruited Masha to betray you?"
"No. At the very beginning of our relationship, I carried out all the necessary checks into her background. Everything is clean as daylight. Doctor, you are free to stop wasting your time and thoughts on her."
"When was this lady last here in the salon?"
"Yesterday, after lunch. Svetla and the children went to the shopping centre, and I took the opportunity to spend some time with Masha. As I told you earlier, the matryoshka was still in its place then."
"One more question. Was everything perfect between the two of you, or had there been tensions?"
"You know how things are with women. There are always some tensions. Sometimes smaller, sometimes larger."
At that moment, Inspector Janković entered the salon. He appeared extremely excited.
"Chief, I have completed the assignment. Your Excellency, if it is not a problem, I would like to remain alone with my superior so I can report the information I gathered."
Without objection, Anatoly rose and headed for the door, addressing Doctor Nedeljković one final time:
"I need not remind you that the request for discretion includes our last conversation as well."
He did not wait for a reply. He trusted the man into whose hands he had placed his fate. He hoped everything would soon be over and that by the end of the day the diamond would once again be in his possession.
Janković flipped energetically through his notebook while Milovan watched him with curiosity, waiting to hear the cause of the inspector's excitement.
"I think you will be speechless when you hear that I discovered the culprit. And you will be even more shocked when you learn it is a woman."
"You mean Masha?"
There were no words capable of describing Inspector Janković's astonishment when he heard Doctor Nedeljković's remark.
"Well then, chief, are you some kind of wizard or something? How do you already know who stole the diamond when you have not even moved a finger outside this room?"
"I did not say she broke the matryoshka. I merely assumed you suspected her. I'll explain later how I arrived at that conclusion. For now, I would rather hear how she ended up on your radar."
"You see, everyone I interviewed, starting with Mrs. Balbatov all the way to the maids and the head of security, mentioned the widow Masha as the only suspicious factor in the house. Everyone else has been together for too long. They feel like one organism. I cannot imagine anyone else being willing to betray the ambassador, nor having any motive to do so. As for Masha, she had both. The staff say the arguments between her and Mr. Anatoly had become increasingly frequent. Just yesterday, they say, the entire house echoed with the insults the two exchanged during their farewell. Masha even threatened the ambassador, saying he would regret treating her that way. Only Mrs. Balbatov regretted mentioning her husband's mistress at all, and by the end of the conversation she persistently tried to convince me that Masha was a wonderful and kind woman whose loyalty to Russia should not be questioned. Well, there you have everything I found out. To say that something is rotten in the state of Denmark, or in this case the Russian embassy, would be putting it mildly."
After hearing the report, Milovan informed his inspector about the conversation he had with the ambassador.
"So, the only suspect is being given an alibi by our promiscuous host. What do we do now, chief?"
"He's not the only one giving her an alibi. You are forgetting that the ambassador insists he alone knew the secret of the matryoshka."
"Maybe Masha came back in anger to damage something belonging to her lover, accidentally discovered the diamond inside the figure, and decided it was enough to make her forget all the pain he caused her?"
"No, no. The surveillance footage and the ambassador both guarantee that Masha had no opportunity to do that. The culprit is definitely someone residing in this building. In fact, I think I know who it is. Call our host and ask him to join us together with his wife. The day is slipping away, and it is time to bring this farce of a case to an end."
With renewed enthusiasm, the inspector reached for the telephone receiver to carry out his superior's plan. He was impatient to hear the solution to the mystery.
"Svetlana Nikolaevna Balbatov."
"A pleasure, madam. Milovan Nedeljković."
The ambassador and his wife sat together on the sofa. They looked more like father and daughter than husband and wife. Svetlana was a slender blonde whose figure gave no indication that she had borne three children or been married to the ambassador for nearly two decades. Anatoly nervously cracked his knuckles. Almost an entire day had passed since the incident, yet there was still no sign of a happy resolution. He awaited Milovan's words the way a condemned prisoner awaits his final moment.
"I hope you have good news for us, Mr. Nedeljković."
"Had you come forward with the truth from the beginning, the case would have been solved this morning already. Instead, time was needed to clear away the smoke and see the truth plainly. Before I continue, I have just one more question for you. How exactly did you insult Mrs. Masha yesterday so badly that she threatened you would regret your actions?"
A blush spread across Anatoly Balbatov's face. For a moment, he resembled a traffic light.
"It is a matter of an intimate nature, and I refuse to answer. A gentleman does not discuss such matters in public. But I assure you that the threat was not as serious as it sounded when she uttered it. Taken out of context like this, I understand it presents an excellent motive."
Svetlana shot her husband a look full of contempt and disgust, causing him to abandon any further defence of Masha.
"Your Excellency, your problem lies in the fact that you underestimate the people around you, and believe in standards you yourself imposed upon your surroundings. Mrs. Balbatov, as the wife of a diplomat, carries a far heavier burden than you do. On top of that, she is a mother. She must preserve your image in the eyes of your children, regardless of what she thinks or feels about you. Of all the people surrounding you, only someone who knew you perfectly could have known about the matryoshka. Someone about whom you yourself stated this morning that you hide nothing from. You probably could not grasp what motive such a person would have to betray you. You preferred believing in conspiracies by foreign intelligence agencies and spy games rather than in the emotions of the person closest to you."
Svetlana covered her face with her hands and quietly sobbed, while the ambassador seemed to have lost the ability to breathe. He stared mutely at his wife.
"Love and jealousy always go together, hand in hand. Mrs. Svetlana surely heard the rumours that you and Masha had been quarrelling more and more frequently. On the other hand, I am certain that after your meeting with the German and the acquisition of the diamond, she sensed where you might have hidden it. She must have noticed that during that period the matryoshka became far more important to you than before, no longer merely a sentimental keepsake from your grandfather. She decided to stage the theft because she knew suspicion would immediately fall upon the one person who did not belong to this environment. I assume she hoped you would contact your government and that, after conducting an investigation and suspecting the widow Masha first, they would immediately demand her return to Russia and place her under constant surveillance until her innocence was established. Disappointed in her, you would rush back to Svetlana, and I doubt that any new mistress, or companion as you called it, would manage to charm you again anytime soon. One can only hope Mrs. Balbatov did not do anything reckless with the diamond from the matryoshka, otherwise I fear it may be lost forever."
Anatoly hoped his wife would lower her hands and look at him, offering some different truth from the one Milovan Nedeljković had just spoken aloud, but it did not happen. She continued sobbing. She lacked even the strength to attempt a defence.
"Just tell me the diamond is with you. If it is not, our lives are worth nothing anymore. We will be tried for treason, and tears will hardly stop them," the ambassador said with a voice trembling in desperation.
Those words jolted the ambassador's wife. She reached into the pocket of her dress and threw the diamond at her husband. The precious stone bounced off his body and landed on the floor.
"There, you damned wretch! Tomorrow I am returning to Moscow with the children," she told him in Russian before rising from the bed.
The ambassador tried to regain his composure. He picked up the diamond and slipped it into his pocket. Once again, he glanced at his wife, who was already on her way out of the room. He knew this was not the time for family arguments. He had to devote himself to his guests and show gratitude, for they had succeeded in recovering the precious item and solving the case of the broken matryoshka.
Half an hour later, Milovan Nedeljković and Inspector Janković left the Russian embassy. Dusk was already beginning to fall when the inspector suddenly remembered something.
"Chief, you've not eaten anything all day. In the end it turns out you made a mistake by not taking that apple this morning. Let me take you somewhere for dinner, all right?"
"No, thank you. I only want to get home. Hopefully Sergej and Đorđe saved some food for their father."
"I don't doubt it. I just hope we will not be making diplomatic visits again anytime soon. I prefer our local crimes to these family dramas."
The doctor never got the chance to reply because the car stopped in front of his house at that very moment. He saw his sons standing in the doorway waiting for him. Instantly he forgot the ambassador, the matryoshka case, and all the romantic sorrows of a diplomat.
He said goodbye to the inspector, stepped out of the car, and walked toward his family.
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When the ringing sounded for the fourth time, he could no longer ignore it. Someone was persistent in trying to reach him, which had to mean something urgent had happened. He walked over to the phone and grabbed it nervously. It turned out to be the chief of police who needed Milovan so badly. He pressed the green button and answered.
"Hello?"
"I was just about to send a patrol to check whether something had happened to you. Why did it take you so long to answer?"
"You know how it is. I respect working hours, but I value my free time with family even more, and as you know, I do not get much of it."
"So, what, man, are you trying to tell me you heard the phone and simply refused to answer?"
"If you wish, you may interpret it that way. I know you do not believe it, but being a good parent is harder than being a good police officer. Even the potential sanctions from the family are harsher."
"All right, all right... Sometimes you really are a difficult man, you know that? Something very important has come up, so tomorrow do not come to work. Instead, report to the Russian embassy. His Excellency Anatoly Balbatov is expecting you."
"Why would anyone at the Russian embassy be expecting me?"
"That is not something for the phone. That idiot Janković will come pick you up in the morning. Whatever happens at the embassy must not be repeated to a living soul. Not a word to your families, friends, or even me. In a few days, the newspapers will publish an article saying the ambassador requested to meet the leading members of our special operations team, so no one will suspect you are there on official business. Anatoly is a Doctor of Slavic Studies, by the way. He has spent more than ten years in diplomatic circles, and the Balkans are his specialty, which is why he speaks our language fluently. I do not need to point out that I am counting on you and Inspector Janković. You know how important the Russians are to us. Do we understand each other?"
"Of course!"
"That is all, then. You may now return to your role as a caring parent. Good night and give my regards to Jovana and the children!"
"I will, and please give my regards to your family as well. Good night!"
After ending the call, he noticed Sergej watching him curiously.
"Dad, do you have to go on a mission now?"
"A mission? My only mission tonight is a Harry Potter marathon."
A sigh of childish relief could be heard, and both Sergej and his younger brother Đorđe came over and hugged their father. Milovan lifted them both up and carried them toward the couch, where they continued watching the film together with Jovana.
While the Harry Potter gang cast spells on the television screen, Milovan's thoughts were far away, trying to grasp what the coming day would bring...
The sun had barely risen when Inspector Janković came to pick him up. Morning was the only time of day when the inspector was not talkative.
"Janković, what do you expect from today?"
"Honestly, boss, I hope our Russian brothers know how to make good Turkish coffee, otherwise I am useless."
"More likely they will greet us with tea."
"Well, if only it came with vodka..."
Since the streets were still empty, they reached their destination quickly. As they approached the embassy, Milovan tried to notice as many details as possible.
A tall fence and rows of conifers planted beside it concealed the courtyard from view. Armed security guards stood at the main gate and politely let them through, making it clear their visit was expected. Two guards with German shepherds patrolled the courtyard, the dogs sniffing every inch ahead of them. Some kind of internal investigation had obviously been launched. The approach to the building was covered by video surveillance, and from this close the embassy looked like the safest place on the planet.
Standing on the entrance steps was a greying gentleman in a navy suit, with long moustaches and a relaxed stomach. He extended his hand, his face spreading into a smile as wide as Siberia.
"Welcome, gentlemen! Allow me to introduce myself. Anatoly Petrovich Balbatov. I have been eagerly expecting you."
"Milovan Nedeljković, Your Excellency! It is an honour to be of service to you."
Milovan bowed theatrically to the ambassador, and then Inspector Janković, following his example while introducing himself, did the same.
"Please follow me to the salon, where I shall explain the problem for which I require your assistance over morning tea."
They followed their host, admiring the lavish interior of the embassy...
They found themselves in a room decorated like a Russian dacha from the beginning of the twentieth century. Wood was the dominant material. While sipping tea, Milovan enjoyed the sight of an enormous bookshelf. He wondered how long it must have taken to arrange all the books and whether someone had been assigned the task of dusting them. Meanwhile, Inspector Janković was fascinated by a baked apple. Until this morning, he could not even imagine an apple being baked, and now it was the very thing saving his day.
Unlike the rest of the embassy, Ambassador Balbatov's salon contained no video surveillance nor any visible trace of electronic devices, apart from the lighting and a landline telephone. The walls not occupied by bookshelves were decorated with paintings and photographs of famous Russians. Behind the armchair in which their host sat stood a glass-and-wood display cabinet filled with various national ornaments and symbols.
Milovan had already begun to wonder what the host was waiting for when the ambassador pulled a box of cigars from his desk and offered them to the guests. After they declined, he took one for himself, pulled a box of matches from his pocket, and lit it. The scent spread through the room with the smoke, and then Anatoly sighed deeply and opened his heart.
"First, I want you to know how grateful I am that you found the time to try to help me. I have been here for more than three years now, and I must admit that the achievements of your team have caught my attention. Thanks to our intelligence service, I know you are behind far more cases than the public could ever suspect. That is why I was forced to ask your chief to assign me his best men. I must warn you that this matter is delicate, and absolute discretion is essential. If any of this reaches the public, everything could escalate into an international scandal with catastrophic consequences."
The inspector seemed shaken awake from his morning stupor by those words. He stared at the ambassador with an expression that clearly said, 'What have we gotten ourselves into this time?' Milovan remained calm and assured their host he could rely on their discretion.
"You may relax. Both the inspector and I are trustworthy men who understand how serious our work is. We would never risk destroying a hard-earned reputation through indiscretion. Is that not right, Inspector?"
After his superior's explanation, all the inspector could do was nod in agreement. Only then did the Russian seem to relax and free himself from the tension gripping him. He stood, approached Milovan, slipped a hand into his jacket pocket, and placed a small colourful object on the table in front of the forensic psychiatrist. Milovan examined it carefully before taking it into his hand and turning it over, studying every detail.
"Doctor, do you know what this is?" the ambassador asked.
"Of course, Your Excellency. This is an example of a babushka doll, a national doll originating from your country. A combination of tradition and art. All the figures are made of wood and usually depict Russian women in traditional dress. What makes these dolls special is that each one contains a series of smaller identical figurines hidden inside."
As he spoke, he separated the doll he was holding. Inside it was another identical figure, only smaller. He repeated the process and continued speaking.
"A babushka usually consists of six to eight figurines, though it can contain considerably more. Naturally, a greater number requires a more skilled craftsman."
"Very good, Mr. Nedeljković! I must admit I enjoy having an informed man before me. I should add that the proper name is matryoshka, but because elderly women are painted on the figures, the term babushka became widespread around the world. You see, the matryoshka you are holding was made by my late grandfather. He crafted it while he was exiled to Siberia by the regime. In his darkest moments, he thought of his family and spent his nights carving those figurines. With God's help and sheer willpower, he survived that frozen hell. You can imagine how difficult it was for a pardoned convict to reintegrate into society, let alone for such a man's grandson to become a diplomat... But I did not bring you here to listen to my history."
The ambassador paused for a moment, as if gathering strength to finally say what troubled him.
"I brought the matryoshka with me from Russia. As you can see, it consists of seven figurines. More precisely, it originally had eight parts, but the eighth, the smallest and the only one that could not be opened, was left by my grandfather to his daughter, my aunt. When she married, that final piece became the inheritance of another family. The important thing is that my doll was unusual and incomplete without that last piece. I used that peculiarity to hide something valuable inside it. After placing the object into the seventh figurine, I had it sealed. Then I assembled the matryoshka and returned it to the cabinet. No one besides me had the slightest idea what was inside it. Everyone believed the doll held only sentimental value for my family, so there was no fear someone might accidentally open it and discover the secret. Yesterday evening, when I entered my office, I found the doll dismantled on the table. As you may guess, all seven parts had been opened, and there was no trace left of the item I had hidden inside. My perfect safe was discovered and opened, and something more important than my own life has vanished!"
For several moments, silence filled the room. Milovan Nedeljković continued examining the colourful piece of wood in his hands, while Inspector Janković realized the ambassador's story had captivated him so completely that he had allowed the remainder of his baked apple to grow cold.
"Your case is exceptionally interesting," Milovan said. "I have never heard of anything like it. Earlier, you said you had the smallest, seventh figurine sealed, which means someone did that for you. Are you certain that person did not discover what it was all about?"
"Believe me, Doctor, that person never had the opportunity to reveal my secret to anyone but the Lord Himself. You may safely exclude that detail from the story."
"Very well, if you say so. The next thing I need to know, and without which my further work is impossible, is the truth about the object hidden inside the doll. I refuse to work on a case I cannot grasp from either end. So, if you truly want my help, lay all your cards on the table. We must trust one another if you want us to solve this case."
At the thought of having to share his secret with someone, the ambassador's mouth went dry. He thought feverishly. He knew the forensic psychiatrist's objection was justified and that he had nothing left to lose, especially now that the secret had already been exposed. Recovering the valuable item mattered more, if it was still possible at all. Every moment lost in the investigation increased the chances of complete failure, and so the Russian decided to speak openly...
"Before I reveal all the details, I have one more question... Does either of you know who Karl Peter Fabergé was?"
Janković spoke. "Looks like we are continuing with an interesting history lesson. I have no doubt my chief knows the answer. Personally, I would guess he was some famous painter or writer, though, as usual, I suspect I am wrong."
"You are right, Janković," said Milovan. "I mean, you are right when you say you are wrong, but also when you say that I know who he was. Karl Peter Fabergé was a Russian jeweller whose talent attracted the attention of the imperial family. They commissioned a total of fifty unique Easter eggs from him. They were crafted from gold, silver, and platinum, and decorated with precious stones and various surprises hidden inside, such as watches, lockets, and similar trinkets. After the fall of the Romanovs, many of the eggs vanished without a trace. Most of them have since found homes among wealthy and powerful collectors around the world, except for a smaller number that are still officially considered lost."
"Fascinating!" said the ambassador. "You truly are a treasury of knowledge. Thanks to that, I can keep my explanation brief. With the return of our nation's power came the idea that all national treasures should once again be gathered, because no country can be considered a true power while its riches remain in foreign hands. I was one of the people tasked with locating the missing Fabergé eggs. Unlimited financial resources were placed at my disposal. Just when I had lost hope and was preparing to abandon the search, I was contacted by the heir to a German noble family who claimed to possess the Fabergé clock egg that had once been the third egg in the imperial collection, and about which nothing had been heard for decades.
"Since an enormous sum of money was involved, it was not enough merely to confirm visually that the gentleman possessed the original. It was necessary to obtain a sample and send it to Russia for analysis by our experts. An agreement was reached, and the German handed me a fragment of the egg's diamond ornamentation. I hid that sample inside my matryoshka in an attempt to throw foreign intelligence services off my trail, as they have been trying to sabotage our undertaking. The plan was to wait until the rumours about us obtaining part of the egg had settled down and then send the diamond sample to Russia for analysis. I placed the doll in the display cabinet, out in the open, because every secret is easiest to hide in plain sight... Or at least that was what I believed until last night. Now you know everything, and I beg you to help me, if it is still possible. I am desperate. I have informed no one in Russia about the incident. Since last night, the entire staff has been involved in the search. The cameras recorded no one entering or leaving the embassy, which means the person bold enough to do this is most likely still inside the building."
When the ambassador finished explaining his problem, Inspector Janković was the first to speak.
"There is something I do not understand. From your story, I gather that you do not believe someone could have picked up the doll out of curiosity, played with it, and accidentally discovered the secret?"
Milovan answered instead of Anatoly.
"If that had happened, the curious individual would have reassembled the doll and returned it to the cabinet in order to buy some time to slip out of the embassy without drawing suspicion. Another problem with your theory is the fact that the doll had been sealed and could not simply be opened. If you come closer and look carefully, you will see that now, after being forced open, it has been completely ruined and can no longer be put back together. Everything points to someone doing this deliberately to send His Excellency a clear message that the secret of the matryoshka had been uncovered. What interests me is this: who had access to the salon? And which of the people living in this building knew about your assignment to locate the missing Fabergé eggs?"
"Everyone who has ever entered the embassy has technically had access to the salon, but since it is a room arranged according to my personal taste, only those whom I invite or permit to enter spend time here. Apart from the two housekeepers responsible for keeping the salon clean, members of my family regularly visit, as do certain guests and associates, naturally only at my invitation. As you can see, the list is not a short one. As for yesterday, we had no visitors from outside the embassy. Only my wife knew about my assignment. As they say, one should keep no secrets from one's spouse."
"And the embassy staff? Are they all trustworthy people, and have there been any recent changes among them? How many people live here?"
"The staff consists of three cooks, four housekeepers, two private tutors for my children, and the chief of security. In addition to them, there are bodyguards and around a dozen specially trained operatives. They are all Russians, and until now their loyalty has never been in question. They also worked for the previous ambassador, so they were already here when I arrived in Montenegro. My wife and our three children came with me, along with attachés, secretaries, and new administrators. As you can see, it is practically a small Russian settlement."
"Have you checked whether the room might have been bugged or placed under some form of video surveillance?"
"There is no possibility of that. Special jamming devices are hidden within the walls, blocking all signal-transmitting equipment. If you check your mobile phones, you will see they have no reception. I know it may not look like it, but this is a genuine dead room. Everything said or done here remains hidden from anyone outside it."
"So, we are looking for someone capable of discovering your secret while simultaneously betraying their loyalty to their country. Hm. This will not be an easy task. I hope you have files containing personal information on everyone staying at the embassy. You said there is no possibility that an outsider entered the salon unnoticed yesterday, so we can discard the idea of an intruder. Just one more thing. When was the last time you were in the salon and everything still appeared normal?"
"Let me think for a moment... Yesterday after lunch, sometime around three o'clock, I was here and everything was in its place. After that I left for a business meeting, and when I returned, shortly before dinner, I found the matryoshka taken apart. As for the information on the people living here, you will have all of it in front of you within half an hour. I place this salon at your disposal so that you may conduct your investigation properly. I believe in you."
"I hope we prove worthy of your trust."
Anatoly left the room to retrieve the requested documents, leaving Milovan and Inspector Janković alone.
"Chief, I have good news for you right away," said Janković. "I studied Russian in school, so I will be able to question all the suspects."
"I have a feeling you will not need any Russian for that. They have all been here long enough, and I have no doubt they have mastered our language by now. Still, it is good to know the education system managed to place something useful inside your head after all. Once our host returns with the files, I will put together a quick profile of the household members and give you a list of the people I want questioned. So, how did you like the apples?"
"While they were warm, I was genuinely delighted. Thank you for giving up your portion for me. Once they cooled down, however, it became a different story..."
"You're welcome. My stomach wakes up much later than my brain, so before eleven o'clock I cannot handle anything except liquids."
"What do you think of the case, chief? I must admit, none of this makes any sense to me."
"This time, I agree with you. There are too many unknowns in this equation and not enough information. I hope that changes soon."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a young Russian man carrying a package in his hands. He walked ahead of the ambassador, placed the bundle of documents on the table, bowed to them like a soldier, and then left the room. Their host, excited that the real investigation was finally beginning, informed them that he would be in the bedroom with his wife and children and that, if they needed him, they should simply pick up the telephone receiver and press number one.
The doctor and the inspector were already deeply absorbed in the files and did not even notice when they were left alone once more...
After three hours of carefully reading the documentation and biographies of everyone living inside the embassy, Milovan called for the host and handed him a list of eight names, requesting that Inspector Janković be allowed to conduct interviews with them.
Anatoly complied with Doctor Nedeljković's request, then suggested that, while the inspector carried out the questioning, the two of them pass the time by playing chess.
They sat in armchairs opposite one another. The ambassador once again indulged in the pleasures of his cigar while Milovan sat in the smoke, devising a new trap for his opponent's white king.
"Checkmate," the forensic psychiatrist stated in an icy voice.
"Either I am too gracious a host, or you are unbeatable. Choose whichever explanation pleases you more."
"I am not bad, I admit that much, but I think your thoughts are far away from the board. Inspector Janković will return soon and, I hope, shed some light on this mystery. If there is anything else you wish to tell me now that we are alone, feel free."
"There is something, although I am not certain it could influence the course of the investigation."
"Allow me to judge that. What is it?"
"Well, more precisely, it is not something but someone. A person who often spent time in this salon despite not being a resident of the embassy. But you see, this is someone I would trust with my life, so... Forget it."
"I think I understand why you hesitate to tell me. Is it a woman? Do you have a mistress?"
"Companion would be a more fitting word. You see, Svetla and I have been married for around twenty years. The life of a diplomat means meeting many people, and sometimes the family suffers because of it. I met Masha after arriving here. She is the widow of one of our older diplomats. After her husband died, she remained in Podgorica. She even buried him here, in your city cemetery. We have been involved for two years now. In order not to damage my family's reputation, I meet with her exclusively in this salon, and only when Svetla and the children are not home. Well, now you finally know everything, and I must admit I feel better for having said it. Masha knows nothing about my assignment, so you may immediately remove her from your list of suspects."
"It is still too early for conclusions. If I understood correctly, since you meet here, does that mean the embassy staff know about you and Masha?"
"Of course. Them and Svetla as well. Only the children do not know. I know you probably judge me and fail to understand, but the life of a diplomat is far from simple. Especially when one represents a country like Russia. My head is practically always in the noose. The stronger you are, the stronger your enemies become. My wife understands that perfectly. At first, she was jealous, but now everything is as it should be. The two of them no longer see each other, so Svetla pretends Masha does not even exist."
"Could someone have recruited Masha to betray you?"
"No. At the very beginning of our relationship, I carried out all the necessary checks into her background. Everything is clean as daylight. Doctor, you are free to stop wasting your time and thoughts on her."
"When was this lady last here in the salon?"
"Yesterday, after lunch. Svetla and the children went to the shopping centre, and I took the opportunity to spend some time with Masha. As I told you earlier, the matryoshka was still in its place then."
"One more question. Was everything perfect between the two of you, or had there been tensions?"
"You know how things are with women. There are always some tensions. Sometimes smaller, sometimes larger."
At that moment, Inspector Janković entered the salon. He appeared extremely excited.
"Chief, I have completed the assignment. Your Excellency, if it is not a problem, I would like to remain alone with my superior so I can report the information I gathered."
Without objection, Anatoly rose and headed for the door, addressing Doctor Nedeljković one final time:
"I need not remind you that the request for discretion includes our last conversation as well."
He did not wait for a reply. He trusted the man into whose hands he had placed his fate. He hoped everything would soon be over and that by the end of the day the diamond would once again be in his possession.
Janković flipped energetically through his notebook while Milovan watched him with curiosity, waiting to hear the cause of the inspector's excitement.
"I think you will be speechless when you hear that I discovered the culprit. And you will be even more shocked when you learn it is a woman."
"You mean Masha?"
There were no words capable of describing Inspector Janković's astonishment when he heard Doctor Nedeljković's remark.
"Well then, chief, are you some kind of wizard or something? How do you already know who stole the diamond when you have not even moved a finger outside this room?"
"I did not say she broke the matryoshka. I merely assumed you suspected her. I'll explain later how I arrived at that conclusion. For now, I would rather hear how she ended up on your radar."
"You see, everyone I interviewed, starting with Mrs. Balbatov all the way to the maids and the head of security, mentioned the widow Masha as the only suspicious factor in the house. Everyone else has been together for too long. They feel like one organism. I cannot imagine anyone else being willing to betray the ambassador, nor having any motive to do so. As for Masha, she had both. The staff say the arguments between her and Mr. Anatoly had become increasingly frequent. Just yesterday, they say, the entire house echoed with the insults the two exchanged during their farewell. Masha even threatened the ambassador, saying he would regret treating her that way. Only Mrs. Balbatov regretted mentioning her husband's mistress at all, and by the end of the conversation she persistently tried to convince me that Masha was a wonderful and kind woman whose loyalty to Russia should not be questioned. Well, there you have everything I found out. To say that something is rotten in the state of Denmark, or in this case the Russian embassy, would be putting it mildly."
After hearing the report, Milovan informed his inspector about the conversation he had with the ambassador.
"So, the only suspect is being given an alibi by our promiscuous host. What do we do now, chief?"
"He's not the only one giving her an alibi. You are forgetting that the ambassador insists he alone knew the secret of the matryoshka."
"Maybe Masha came back in anger to damage something belonging to her lover, accidentally discovered the diamond inside the figure, and decided it was enough to make her forget all the pain he caused her?"
"No, no. The surveillance footage and the ambassador both guarantee that Masha had no opportunity to do that. The culprit is definitely someone residing in this building. In fact, I think I know who it is. Call our host and ask him to join us together with his wife. The day is slipping away, and it is time to bring this farce of a case to an end."
With renewed enthusiasm, the inspector reached for the telephone receiver to carry out his superior's plan. He was impatient to hear the solution to the mystery.
"Svetlana Nikolaevna Balbatov."
"A pleasure, madam. Milovan Nedeljković."
The ambassador and his wife sat together on the sofa. They looked more like father and daughter than husband and wife. Svetlana was a slender blonde whose figure gave no indication that she had borne three children or been married to the ambassador for nearly two decades. Anatoly nervously cracked his knuckles. Almost an entire day had passed since the incident, yet there was still no sign of a happy resolution. He awaited Milovan's words the way a condemned prisoner awaits his final moment.
"I hope you have good news for us, Mr. Nedeljković."
"Had you come forward with the truth from the beginning, the case would have been solved this morning already. Instead, time was needed to clear away the smoke and see the truth plainly. Before I continue, I have just one more question for you. How exactly did you insult Mrs. Masha yesterday so badly that she threatened you would regret your actions?"
A blush spread across Anatoly Balbatov's face. For a moment, he resembled a traffic light.
"It is a matter of an intimate nature, and I refuse to answer. A gentleman does not discuss such matters in public. But I assure you that the threat was not as serious as it sounded when she uttered it. Taken out of context like this, I understand it presents an excellent motive."
Svetlana shot her husband a look full of contempt and disgust, causing him to abandon any further defence of Masha.
"Your Excellency, your problem lies in the fact that you underestimate the people around you, and believe in standards you yourself imposed upon your surroundings. Mrs. Balbatov, as the wife of a diplomat, carries a far heavier burden than you do. On top of that, she is a mother. She must preserve your image in the eyes of your children, regardless of what she thinks or feels about you. Of all the people surrounding you, only someone who knew you perfectly could have known about the matryoshka. Someone about whom you yourself stated this morning that you hide nothing from. You probably could not grasp what motive such a person would have to betray you. You preferred believing in conspiracies by foreign intelligence agencies and spy games rather than in the emotions of the person closest to you."
Svetlana covered her face with her hands and quietly sobbed, while the ambassador seemed to have lost the ability to breathe. He stared mutely at his wife.
"Love and jealousy always go together, hand in hand. Mrs. Svetlana surely heard the rumours that you and Masha had been quarrelling more and more frequently. On the other hand, I am certain that after your meeting with the German and the acquisition of the diamond, she sensed where you might have hidden it. She must have noticed that during that period the matryoshka became far more important to you than before, no longer merely a sentimental keepsake from your grandfather. She decided to stage the theft because she knew suspicion would immediately fall upon the one person who did not belong to this environment. I assume she hoped you would contact your government and that, after conducting an investigation and suspecting the widow Masha first, they would immediately demand her return to Russia and place her under constant surveillance until her innocence was established. Disappointed in her, you would rush back to Svetlana, and I doubt that any new mistress, or companion as you called it, would manage to charm you again anytime soon. One can only hope Mrs. Balbatov did not do anything reckless with the diamond from the matryoshka, otherwise I fear it may be lost forever."
Anatoly hoped his wife would lower her hands and look at him, offering some different truth from the one Milovan Nedeljković had just spoken aloud, but it did not happen. She continued sobbing. She lacked even the strength to attempt a defence.
"Just tell me the diamond is with you. If it is not, our lives are worth nothing anymore. We will be tried for treason, and tears will hardly stop them," the ambassador said with a voice trembling in desperation.
Those words jolted the ambassador's wife. She reached into the pocket of her dress and threw the diamond at her husband. The precious stone bounced off his body and landed on the floor.
"There, you damned wretch! Tomorrow I am returning to Moscow with the children," she told him in Russian before rising from the bed.
The ambassador tried to regain his composure. He picked up the diamond and slipped it into his pocket. Once again, he glanced at his wife, who was already on her way out of the room. He knew this was not the time for family arguments. He had to devote himself to his guests and show gratitude, for they had succeeded in recovering the precious item and solving the case of the broken matryoshka.
Half an hour later, Milovan Nedeljković and Inspector Janković left the Russian embassy. Dusk was already beginning to fall when the inspector suddenly remembered something.
"Chief, you've not eaten anything all day. In the end it turns out you made a mistake by not taking that apple this morning. Let me take you somewhere for dinner, all right?"
"No, thank you. I only want to get home. Hopefully Sergej and Đorđe saved some food for their father."
"I don't doubt it. I just hope we will not be making diplomatic visits again anytime soon. I prefer our local crimes to these family dramas."
The doctor never got the chance to reply because the car stopped in front of his house at that very moment. He saw his sons standing in the doorway waiting for him. Instantly he forgot the ambassador, the matryoshka case, and all the romantic sorrows of a diplomat.
He said goodbye to the inspector, stepped out of the car, and walked toward his family.
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