Penguin Lost (Melville International Crime)

Penguin Lost (Melville International Crime)

Andrey Kurkov

Language: English

Pages: 187

ISBN: B01LX0X5UW

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Penguin Lost finds Viktor Zolotaryov sneaking back into Kiev under an assumed identity to undertake a dangerous mission: He wants to find Misha, his penguin, whom he fears has fallen into the hands of the criminal mob looking for Viktor himself.

Guilt-ridden and determined to do what it takes, Viktor falls in with a Mafia boss who employs him in an election-rigging campaign, in return for introducing Viktor to other mobsters who can help him find Misha. And as Viktor goes from mobster to mobster, trying to survive in Kiev’s criminal underground, the evidence mounts that Misha may be someplace even worse: the zoo of a Chechen warlord.

What ensues is for Viktor both a quest and an odyssey of atonement, and for the reader, a stirring mix of the comic and the tragic, the heartbreaking and the inspiring.

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his little oddities … His submerged rocks … It’s nice to know …” “As I said, he’s all right.” “Any serious oppo?” Viktor shrugged. “No war in progress?” “How do you mean?” Zhora ground his Gauloise into the gravel with the stub toe of his designer shoe and unnecessary vigour. “ ‘How do I mean’ means, any casualties to date?” “Only a hunting fatality.” “Involving?” “Andrey Pavlovich’s son-in-law.” “Uh-huh …” Zhora thought for a moment. “That’s the kind of thing to keep me up to speed on

Of the dozen or so other passengers, some were still asleep. Across the gangway an old man was eating meat from a tin, indifferent to Viktor’s awakening. The driver had disappeared. They were parked in a forest. He could hear birds. He got to his feet, made his way to the open door and looked out. Sun shafting through pines. Shading his eyes, he was overcome with a paralysing sense of unreality. Where the hell was he? Beyond Bim, Eldar and talk of Sphinx, he remembered nothing. He checked his

the faintest of breezes. Suddenly the wind strengthened, the sails filled, the boat heeled sharply over throwing him against what proved to be the seat in front. The bus had braked. The men with Kalashnikovs were gone. Rezvan was now alone on the passenger seat talking to his companion, who was driving. The Russian driver was no longer with them. The narrow earth road through the forest was not for vehicles, but to Viktor’s amazement their mini climbed with a will, even with the engine sounding

course.” While Viktor carried Lyosha down, Nina brought the wheelchair and joined them in their walk. An old woman beating dust out of a rug, gazed transfixed at the penguin, before taking in the legless man the young woman in the long blue overcoat was helping to push. The young man in the camouflage jacket she knew – she’d seen him grow up. The little girl must be his daughter. “Let’s go to the dovecotes,” said Sonya. At the dovecotes, a burly man was walking an Alsatian, towards which

the hostel for me?” “Not necessarily. But who would there be to do the carrying?” “Nina?” he said tentatively, as if thinking aloud. “Have a word with her. And will you do me a favour? Get something through customs for me at the airport – maybe in your luggage, I don’t know yet.” “Fine, so long as no unpleasant consequences.” “Not with this,” said Viktor, showing his Aide to People’s Deputy card. 98 Two weeks later, with a thaw heralding the approach of spring, Viktor made flight

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