That night they boarded the train to Murmansk. Conversation, in the rare moments when there had been conversation, was about Grisha. what lay ahead of them loomed too monstrous for words. To Victor, it felt as though they were falling. They were in gravity’s grip now, and what would happen would happen. He thought a lot about Katherine. He wished she were with him, but he knew she was in good hands with Konstantin Tarasov.
Midway to Murmansk, Victor fell into a peaceful sleep. The dreams of drowning that had haunted him for the past year had ended as abruptly as they had begun. It was as though, having come to terms with what had happened at the river that day in 1960, his unconscious had ended its assault.
He did dream — about Katherine Sears. They were in the bell tower kissing. Only now there was nothing to cut short their embrace, no KGB agents, no snooping Intourist guide, just the two of them, their lips, their breath and their bodies locked together in a kiss that would last a lifetime . . .
He awoke reluctantly. Oksana was shaking him.
“We’re here,” she said.
Murmansk.
Victor rubbed his eyes and got to his feet. Today was the day.
Their carriage was hitched to the Nikel train, and they began to move again. Until that moment, their journey had been north. Now they were heading west.
Untamed country slipped past the window — dense forests, countless lakes, swamps and so many rivers that it was water, not land, that dominated the landscape. Autumn held on tenuously. In the daytime, a jacket was enough to keep them warm. At night — well, they didn’t plan to be there that night.
They came at last to Nikel. Oksana, Grisha and Victor climbed down the ladder from the carriage and a man in a border guard uniform greeted them. He helped Victor retrieve Oksana’s bags.
He led them to a jeep with a raised canvas top, spread out a map on the hood and began to show them the way to A-1.
“It’s about thirty miles,” he said. “The road is treacherous, so take it slowly. If you stop anywhere, whatever you do, don’t wander off into the swamp. We’ve had a lot of rain.”
“We won’t be stopping,” he said.
The man showed Victor everything about the jeep — how to change the tire, use the winch and set the four-wheel drive. When Victor had absorbed all that, the border guard glanced at Oksana and Grisha and said, “I can’t say that I approve of you driving there without escort.”
“You have your orders,” said Victor.
He nodded. “If you get in trouble, there are three checkpoints — ” he pointed at the map “ — here, here and here.”
“How long will it take us to reach A-1?”
“Two hours.”
Victor looked at his watch — 2:30 P.M. Right on time.
Victor got in behind the wheel. Grisha sat on Oksana’s lap in the passenger seat. The little boy was enjoying himself. The train trip, which had been an adventure, was now about to be eclipsed by a jeep ride.
The trip was harrowing. The forest pressed in so tightly against the sides of the narrow road that at times it felt as though two pine walls were joining to squeeze them. They forded a dozen rivers, taking the jeep axle-deep into the fast-moving water. At a particularly large stream, the current lifted the jeep and began to carry it downstream. Fortunately, the river basin rose slightly, and the tires caught the rocky bottom. Later, all four tires became mired in a muddy river bank. Victor looped a wire cable to a tree, and the jeep’s winch pulled them out. They went on. Besides the rivers they forded, a dozen other larger rivers were spanned by flat wooden bridges so low they grazed the surface of the water. Many looked unsafe, and Victor got out a few times to inspect them. One bridge looked particularly dilapidated, and Victor instructed Oksana and Grisha to walk across while he carried the bags. He drove the empty jeep to the other side, and they repacked and went on.
All this adversity must have been included in the border guard’s estimate of travel time, because exactly two hours after setting out, they pulled up to the final checkpoint, just a mile from A-1. It was 4:30 P.M., September 24.
Victor braked behind the checkpoint’s wooden barrier and got out. The sun was low, and the temperature was dropping fast. As he greeted the border guard, his breath was visible in the chill air. The man checked their documents and then poked his head inside the jeep. He made Victor open one of the canvas bags, and he looked through it without much enthusiasm. He used a mirror on a long handle to examine the underside of the jeep.
After several minutes of this, he handed Victor their documents and pointed up the road. “A-1 is just ahead. The road’s bad. Be careful.”
They went on. The jeep never left second gear. After ten minutes, they crossed a small wooden bridge, came around a corner and there it was.
A-1.
Victor stopped about fifty feet from the fence and turned off the engine. They all looked at it.
In the forty years since A-1 had been built, fewer than fifty people had crossed over the border there, and those were mostly employees of the power station shared by the two countries.
Victor looked at it, and a strange loneliness engulfed him. Here was the edge of the Soviet empire. He felt as though he were peering over the side of a flat earth. As a boy, he had read countless stories portraying the border as a heroic place where brave men kept barbarians at bay. Victor didn’t have to look hard to see that there was nothing heroic here.
Two barbed-wire fences stretched in parallel rows separated by about twenty feet of finely groomed sand. Directly in front of them was a simple sliding gate. Beside the gate stood a two-story guard tower topped by an observation post with a searchlight. The whole setup was so simple and obvious that a cattle rancher, given the job of designing border fortifications, could have come up with it. Behind the second gate, a stretch of asphalt drew a line as straight as a ruler through a pine forest. The trees had been cleared for twenty feet on either side of the path so Victor was able to gaze up it as though it were a wide Moscow avenue. The path ended about two hundred yards away at a third fence. A light shone in a hut there. Atop a tall pole, a red flag with a blue-and-white cross waved at them.
Norway.
Victor found the switch for his headlights and flashed them twice. A moment later, the floodlights on the Soviet tower flashed back at him.
“Did you see that?” Grisha asked wide-eyed.
Oksana stroked his head. “Sh, my sweet.”
Dusk was falling now. Victor looked at his watch.
“Fifteen minutes,” he said. “Everything’s ready.”
Victor heard the helicopter before he could see it. Thethumpa-thumpa of its mighty rotors seemed to come from within his rib cage. They all climbed out of the jeep and scanned the sky.
It came over the treetops a few seconds later. It hovered a minute and then descended. A wind storm kicked up around them, and they braced themselves. Grisha, who had been anxiously awaiting the helicopter, now began to cry. Oksana picked him up and talked to him gently.
“It’s all right, little angel. Don’t be frightened.”
The skates touched down about twenty feet away on a grassy landing area. The helicopter’s engine fell silent, and the wind from the rotors began to die down. Victor and Oksana started along the path toward the craft.
The door came open and a man in a military fur hat jumped out. A ramp was pushed through the door, and the man helped guide it to the ground. He waved for someone to come down. Anatoly Podolok came down the ramp carefully and turned and waved to someone still inside the craft.
Next came Anton. He was in a wheelchair pushed by a middle-aged woman. Victor caught her profile as she came down the ramp — forward-craning neck; a thin, straight nose; jaw stabbing ahead; hair bun. He grimaced. It was Yevgenia.
Victor said to Oksana, “I’ll take Grisha.”
Oksana handed over the boy, and they all walked toward Anton.
Anton’s eyes stared blankly ahead. The skin on the left side of his face hung loosely over hi
s skull. His mouth was partially open and his head tipped to one side. He looked catatonic.
Oksana knelt before him and took his hands into her own. Yevgenia stood over them, her hands on the grips. Podolok stood beside her.
At first, Oksana didn’t say a word. She inspected Anton like a mother cat whose kitten has returned after having wandered off. Anton showed no sign that he knew her. After a minute, she took his face between her hands and kissed his forehead.
“I’m here, my love,” she said.
Anton stared through her.
Yevgenia said, “Dr. Lazda says — ”
“Shut up!” said Oksana.
Yevgenia’s mouth opened with indignation, but she said nothing more.
Oksana stroked Anton’s shaved head a minute. Then she put her head in his lap. She might have been crying; Victor couldn’t tell.
Victor and Yevgenia stared at each other over top of the scene.
“Hi, Baba,” said Grisha.
Yevgenia’s face was stone.
“Why is Mommy crying?” Grisha asked.
Oksana lifted her head. “Come here, dear,” she said sniffling. “I want you to meet somebody.”
Victor put Grisha down and gave him a little push toward his mother. Grisha stepped forward bravely and leaned against Oksana as he faced Anton.
“Grisha, honey,” said Oksana. “This is your father.”
Grisha looked up at his mother puzzled. Victor could see his little three-year-old gears turning, absorbing this new fact. It was the same expression Grisha made when you laid a new food on his tongue. Grisha dropped his gaze to Anton.
He looked him over a minute. “Why are you in that funny chair, Daddy?”
Anton’s eye twitched. It was just a twitch, but Victor saw it clearly.
Victor raised his head again to face his mother. “I thought you would come.”
“Of course I came,” she said. “You’re my son.”
“So is he,” said Victor, motioning to Anton.
Yevgenia clucked her tongue. “I don’t expect you to understand this.”
“I understand perfectly, Yevgenia. You and your friends have come to arrest us.”
“It didn’t have to be this way,” said Yevgenia. “I could have helped you if you had let me, if you had just stayed out of it.”
“But I was already in it, don’t you see? The moment Anton witnessed the shooting, we were all in it — you, me and Anton.”
“I’ll do everything I can to help you,” she said.
“Like Anton?”
“Not like that.”
Podolok spoke up. “You’re right about one thing, Victor. The deal is off. No one is going to cross the border today. So let’s begin with the diaries, shall we? Hand them over.”
“I don’t have them.”
Podolok glared at Victor. He raised his hand as a signal. “Leo!” he called out.
From out of the helicopter, a small man with a finely trimmed beard jumped to the ground. His hands gripped a Kalashnikov machine gun.
Leo Yakunin came quickly toward them and stopped beside Podolok.
“Perhaps you’ll give me the diaries now,” said Podolok.
“I told you, I don’t have them,” said Victor.
“Victor, stop this foolishness,” said Yevgenia. “Do as he says.”
“Where’s General Belov?” Leo asked Podolok.
Podolok frowned and looked toward the guard tower. It was dark, a monolithic silhouette against the forest. The sun had set, and the helicopter spotlight provided the only light.
Podolok turned anxiously to Yevgenia. “Where is he?”
She shook her head. “He should be here.”
Victor smiled. “Your comrade is indisposed.”
“What do you know about it?” snapped Podolok.
Victor turned and nodded at the guard tower. The floodlights snapped on, and instantly they were all bathed in a harsh, white light.
“I want you to meet some friends of mine,” said Victor.
They all squinted into the light. Several silhouettes of men came toward them. Podolok put his hand over his eyes. Leo aimed his machine gun uncertainly in their direction. The figures drew nearer and took form.
First to come into view was Konstantin Tarasov. Then Katherine Sears. Then KGB Director Oleg Shatalin. Behind them, five more figures appeared out of the light, as though the light itself were creating people. Four of the men wore border guard uniforms and were armed with machine guns. The fifth figure was being led by them, his hands cuffed behind his back — General Yuri Belov. They stopped a few feet away.
“Comrade director Shatalin,” Podolok stammered. “What are you doing here?”
“You are under arrest, comrade secretary,” said Shatalin. “And so are you, comrade minister. Now, Leo, drop your weapon. It’s over.”
Leo stared at Tarasov in disbelief.
“What’s the matter, Leo?” Tarasov said cheerily. “Seen a ghost?”
“You . . .”
“Drop your weapon!” said Tarasov.
Leo did.
Tarasov picked up the machine gun and stepped back.
“Whatever these people have told you is a lie,” said Podolok. “I’ve been working to trap them, and now — ”
“Tell it to the prosecutor, vlasovite!” said Shatalin.
Podolok paled. For a second, Victor thought the old man was going to have a stroke on the spot.
Suddenly to Victor’s right came the sound of movement. He turned. Leo leaped at Grisha, who was still standing beside Anton’s wheelchair. He scooped up the boy with his left arm and pressed a pistol to the boy’s temple.
Oksana screamed and prepared to lunge for her son, but Leo cocked the pistol. The sound froze her.
“I’ll kill the brat!” said Leo. “I swear!”
Grisha squirmed for a moment. Then, feeling the strength of Leo’s grip, he gave up. He began to cry.
“Mommy!”
“Put down the gun, Leo,” said Tarasov. “There’s nowhere to run.”
“I want to go across the border,” said Leo. “Let me cross, or the brat gets it.” He ground the barrel of the pistol into Grisha’s temple.
“We can’t allow that,” said Shatalin. “You must know that.”
Victor’s eyes caught a small movement beside Leo. In the wheelchair, Anton was stirring. Anton’s eyes darted back and forth blinking heavily, like a man coming out of a dream. Their eyes met, and they stared at each other a moment. Victor could see plainly the awareness behind his brother’s eyes.
Anton’s lips mouthed, “Shh.”
Victor looked away. His heart was pounding. He realized Anton was about to try something.
Leo was still talking to Shatalin. “I’m dead if I don’t go across. What have I got to lose? And don’t get any ideas, Konstantin. I can pump a round into the kid and maybe a couple more before — ”
Leo never finished the sentence. Anton leaped out of his chair, and in a flash the two men were on the ground struggling for control of the gun. Grisha rolled free, and Oksana ran to scoop him up. Suddenly, Leo’s pistol fired — crack! — and Anton collapsed. Oksana screamed. Leo got to his feet. Blood covered his coat. Anton’s blood.
Nooooo!
Victor leaped at Leo’s pistol hand. Leo easily sidestepped Victor’s attack and aimed the gun point blank at Victor. He squeezed the trigger.
At that instant, Yevgenia Perova plowed into Leo’s back. His hand was thrown up, and the shot exploded over Victor’s head.
Leo went down on his chest, rolled onto his back and aimed his pistol at Yevgenia’s chest. He fired. She dropped like a stone.
All at once, Victor, Tarasov and two of the border guards leaped onto Leo. They wrenched the gun from his hand and rolled him over. One of the border guards cuffed him and then dragged him to his feet by his armpits.
Victor and Oksana ran to Anton.
“I’m okay,” Anton panted. “It just grazed the arm.”
Vi
ctor shook his head in wonder. “Well done, brother,” he said.
Anton winced and tried to smile.
One of the guards pushed Victor aside. “I’m a medic.” He knelt to examine the wound.
Victor ran to Yevgenia. Tarasov and Katherine were already there.
“She’s dead,” said Tarasov. “Clean shot through the heart.”
Victor fell to his knees beside his mother.Yevgenia!
Her eyes were closed, and there was no evidence in her face of the violence of her demise. Victor knew her face so well, the squareness of its frame, the delicate skin, and the creases in her forehead earned over decades of service to the communist state. It was strange to just stare at her the way a boy might stare at his mother, memorizing lovingly every pore of her complexion.
“She saved my life,” Victor said.
Nobody seemed to know what to say.
In that instant, as Victor knelt over Yevgenia, all the bad receded — the summer of the puppies, her decision to commit Anton to a psychiatric hospital, her interrogation of Katherine Sears — and Victor felt like a boy who had come to his mother’s bedside while she lay sleeping. Looking at her face then, he half-expected her to open her eyes and say, “What’s wrong, Vitya?” “I had a nightmare, Mama.” Then she would raise the blanket, and he would climb into her warm, safe arms. He would be asleep almost before his head touched the pillow.
A lump formed in his throat. She was his mother. And perhaps it was just a son’s fancy but, in that moment, it seemed that, in death, her expression held something she had rarely seen in life.
Peace.
“Dosvidaniya,Mama,” he whispered.Good-bye ,Mother.
Shatalin came up beside them. “Podolok has disappeared.”
Victor snapped from his reverie. “What?” He looked around.
“The border guards figure he ran off into the swamp,” said Shatalin. “They’re looking for him now.”
The medic put a tourniquet on Anton’s arm and lifted him back into the wheelchair.
“We have to get him to a hospital,” said the medic.
Victor turned to Shatalin. “There’s a doctor standing by in Norway,” said Victor. “What’s it going to be, comrade director?”
Shatalin looked uncertain. He seemed to be weighing his options one more time.
The Forbidden Zone Page 45
