At four in the morning, no phone call is ever good news. A patrol car had stopped in front of an alley off Frunze so the driver could empty his…
Tom CallaghanSeptember 26, 2020
‘My babulya’s been murdered.’ Not words you ever want to hear, especially when you’ve put your jacket on, decided to walk home though the park, anything to avoid wearing your…
Tom CallaghanAugust 25, 2020
Amateurs - An Akyl Borubaev story The squad room was empty, the only sound the whisper of dust gently settling on filing cabinets stuffed with unsolved cases.
Tom CallaghanAugust 18, 2020
After midnight in the Kulturny Bar, where I was upsetting the regulars and planning to get myself a gun. Of course, I already had one.
Tom CallaghanAugust 11, 2020
The message came in early one morning, the sun barely beginning to clamber over the mountains to the north-east of the city. The lockdown had taken all the taxis and…
Tom CallaghanAugust 4, 2020
Rather than another post about Bishkek’s bar scene, I thought a mini-story about Akyl Borubaev might pass a couple of moments. After all, that’s hopefully why people read this blog…
Tom CallaghanJuly 31, 2020