"The other one," Ippolit said slowly. "The Ocelot in the showers. Sergei Gurlukovich."

If the poison had affected the Colonel's memory, it was worse than he had thought. He could just not be counting it, since it hadn't been done according to the habits of dismemberment.

Or if he knew something else that put it in a different class.

The pieces of the puzzle shifted on the crowded coffee table of Rakitin's mind. He tried to make them form a shape other than the one they seemed determined to.