Panthera Spelaea

“Let them in,” I told her. I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Marina, my lawyer, telling her the police had arrived at my girlfriend’s apartment.

Anna said something in Russian as she walked to the door. Opening it, she got pushed aside as four uniformed officers and one in plainclothes came in. The officers pushed Anna against the wall, the female officer searching her, while two other uniforms pulled me out of my chair. “Mr. John Cantwell, you are under arrest,” the detective said in broken English. I was roughly pushed against the apartment wall and searched quickly.

“где Светлана Севастьяно?” They asked something about Svetlana.

“спит в ее комнате,” Anna replied. “She’s sleeping.”

I didn’t see what happened with them as I was cuffed and marched out. I only had on thin nylon shorts and a T-shirt. I didn’t even have shoes on as they took me down the stairs and into the police car. I didn’t say anything; there was no point. I just had to hope the girls kept the stories straight, or we were all in trouble.

They took me not to the local station but to downtown police headquarters. I didn’t see this as a good thing, but the handcuffs were my first clue. It took thirty minutes or so to process into the jail. They took my clothes and possessions, my fingerprints, and photographs. It wasn’t just the mugshot; they took detailed photos of my body while stripped down to my underwear. I was happy that the lion in me supercharged my healing because the scars from the bullets were gone now. Bullet wounds would be hard to explain.

Eventually, dressed in prison overalls, one of the guards brought me to an interrogation room and handcuffed me to the table. There wasn’t much furniture; a metal table bolted to the floor, a narrow bench to sit on (also bolted down), and two metal chairs on the other side. Above the table was the classic single incandescent bulb without a shade, plus the one-way mirror on the side of the room. I was tired; after all, it was barely five in the morning, and I’d had a rough night. If they weren’t going to talk to me, I was taking a nap.

I put my head down on my arm and closed my eyes, but it didn’t work. I could still hear the conversations outside, even though my beginner Russian couldn’t understand much. I was almost asleep when the door flew open, banging against the wall. “Mr. Cantwell.”

Jesus, him again? “Senior Investigator Kaprisov.”

“Where were you last night?”

“I want to speak with my lawyer.”

“Where were you last night?”

“I want to speak to my lawyer.”

He pulled the chair out and sat down across from me. “You are in a lot of trouble, John. A confession will go a long way to keeping you from being executed.”

“You can tell my lawyer the charges. I have nothing to say to you.”

He tapped the table with his fingertip. “Good. I was hoping you would say that.” He set a manila folder on the table. “Thirteen people dead.” He pulled out one of the photos and flipped it towards me.

I think he wanted to shock me, but I’d already steeled myself to what a cave lion kill would look like. It didn’t quite work because it was worse than I’d imagined. “Jesus Christ,” I said as I looked away. It was one of the gang members, his neck torn open to the bone with a big chunk missing. I flicked the photo back his way. “I want my lawyer.”

This answer just pissed him off. He slammed the folder back on the table, scattering the photos across the table and into my arm. The pictures were all the same; dead punks missing limbs, heads, necks, or other body parts. The Cave Lion didn’t mess around, and he didn’t stop to eat. The lion ripped them apart in seconds. “You did this, John. We’ve got video surveillance showing you and your girls leading these men into the park, right into the trap you set for them. You fucked up, John. I had an officer following you, and he’s dead now.” He stood up and leaned over the table. “I’m going to enjoy watching as they execute you for murder.”

I just stared at him. “You’re delusional, and I want my lawyer.” I decided to put my head down and wait, which pissed him off even more. He gathered up the photos into the folder and stormed off, slamming the door behind him. I didn’t get to sleep, as the door opened and a man wearing a cheap suit walked in. “I want my lawyer,” I said as I set my head back down.

“My apologies, Mr. Cantwell. My name is Detective Sergei Kolvana of the Moscow Police Department. I’m part of the task force investigating the deaths last night.” I didn’t say anything, nor did I shake his offered hand. “I apologize for Investigator Kaprisov’s behavior. He’s under a lot of stress; the officer who died was his friend, and he was assigned to follow you.” That was an interesting tidbit. “I want to clarify something. You have not been charged with anything just yet. You are here because you were the subject of surveillance, and your watcher ended up dead. We think you know why.”

I knew enough to say nothing; even saying ‘I’m sorry’ might be interpreted as a confession. “I will make no statements until I have conferred with my lawyer. Her name is Marina Federov; if you want answers, maybe you should inform her where I am and get her here.”

He nodded at me. “Fair warning, this is turning into a circus that makes your Siberian adventure seem like child’s play. Thirteen dead inside city limits is big news, and the city is already panicking about the lion running loose. The Mayor and the brass are putting pressure on us to find the killers. Right now, you and your friends are all we have. We know you’re an expert on large animals. If you know where this lion is hidden, you need to tell us before this gets out of hand.”

I laughed at that. “Detective, I’m an expert on animals that died out ten thousand years ago. I can’t help you. Maybe you should be calling the real circus? Lions and tigers and bears, oh my?”

He didn’t like that answer. “Think about what I’m saying to you, John. The longer this goes, the worse it becomes for you and your girlfriend.”

“My lawyer.” He got up and walked back out.

There was no clock in the interrogation room, so my time dragged on. I started to panic a little when I had to go to the bathroom, and no one answered my request. “HEY!” I racked my brain for the Russian word. “Ванная! Ванная!” Thankfully, someone heard me before I pissed myself and took me down to the bathroom, standing guard behind me while I relieved myself. After washing up, it was back to the room. The clock in the hallway said it was after ten in the morning now.

Marina finally showed up, and she wasn’t happy. “Sorry I’m late,” she said as she set her briefcase down on the table. “It took me hours to find out where they took you. What have you told them?”

“That I want to talk to my lawyer. So far, Investigator Kaprisov has accused me of conspiracy to commit thirteen murders last night. He also told me he had surveillance on me, and that officer ended up dead. Detective Kolvana thinks I’m hiding an African lion somewhere, and both of them are eager to pin it all on me. Meanwhile, I don’t know what happened to Anna or Svetlana, and I’m starving.” My stomach growled to punctuate that. I hadn’t eaten enough of a snack when I got up.

“You might be in here a while,” she said. “They won’t give me access to any of the evidence, but they are pushing hard for a confession.”

“Play some music,” I asked. Marina started playing a song on her phone by a Russian female rocker. I leaned forward, and she met me so I could whisper in her ear. “Here’s the deal. I was walking home with the girls when the gang blocked the sidewalk. One of them had a gun. I saw an opening, and the three of us took off across the street into the park. It was dark enough for the girls to split off and lose them, and I’m fast enough to outrun them. I didn’t see what happened to them. I ran until I was sure I’d lost them, then worked my way back to the road while looking for the girls. That’s it. I didn’t know about the dead cop or the other guys until I was back at their apartment.” All that was technically true, and hopefully, the girls would say the same.

She turned to whisper in my ear. “Will the evidence back you up?”

“Viktor said they have video of the gang accosting us. After that, I don’t know.”

She sat back, and I followed. “The police are desperate to make an arrest, even though they know they have no evidence and you couldn’t have committed those murders. Don’t say anything, John. I’ll contact your parents about this.”

“I want you to represent the girls,” I told her.

She thought about that. “I have to find them first.”

“What happens next?”

“They will try to scare you into confessing. When that doesn’t work, Kaprisov will try to convince a judge to keep you in jail until a trial. You keep your mouth shut and let me handle it.”

Yep, I was fucked. “Tell the girls we should have watched a movie instead.” She left, and the guard took me back to lockup. They threw me in a cell with six other guys, so there’d be no sleeping for a while. One inmate recognized me from the Siberian murder coverage. What the others said in Russian, I couldn’t follow.

I was in my first fight before lunch. Somehow, I don’t think Viktor would mind if I got shanked in a Russian prison.