by Alex Gerlis
‘I’m fine thank you Roza. I slept badly last night, that’s all. Look, you really must speak English. Please try.’
‘Why? What’s the point? We’ll never visit England. We’ll never leave this house. I am a prison, Billy,’ she said in English.
‘I am a “prisoner”, Roza. That’s what you meant to say. A prison is a building in which the prisoners are kept. I’m sure you’ll get to visit England one day.’
They spent much of the hour with Henry doing his best to sustain some kind of conversation in English. But, as ever, Roza was wrapped up in her thoughts. When they went back into the garden Henry told Roza to go on ahead while he made a play of locking the garden door. It appeared shut, but he kicked a stone against it just in case the wind blew it open. After he returned the key to the guard’s room, he went into the library, pausing on the way to remove the bolt on the side door that opened into the garden. His hands were shaking so much he feared the sound of the bolts being removed echoed around the house.
They’ll need to move: I told them the guards usually check the garden door soon after I lock it.
Roza and Nadezhda were in the library. He would hang around for a few minutes, as he had started to do lately. He could hear Nikolai playing upstairs and the two local women leaving the house. Anatoly was in his study and he imagined the mother would be asleep upstairs. From the corner of his eye he imagined he caught a movement in the garden, but he did not want to look up. A few moments later and there were some sounds from the front of the house, nothing too noticeable at first but then it became more of a commotion and first Nadezhda then Roza looked up. Seconds later there was the sound of shouting down the hall then three loud popping noises followed by a scream, and the sound of Anatoly shouting and then scuffling in the hall. The door to the library burst open. The first person inside was one of the Frenchmen, followed by Peter and behind him Viktor and another of the Frenchmen frog-marching Anatoly into the room. The girls screamed and Viktor shouted at them in Russian, waving his revolver at their father’s head as he did so. The message was clear: shut up or I shoot.
Viktor pushed Anatoly into an armchair and gestured for the girls to sit on the floor. They could hear movement upstairs. ‘Go and see what’s going on,’ Viktor told Peter in French. Shortly after that one of the other Frenchmen appeared in the room, dragging Nikolai in with him by his hair. Tatyana followed as if in a trance, with Peter bringing up the rear. Nikolai was shoved to the floor next to his terrified sisters while their mother was guided to a chair opposite her husband. Viktor addressed the family in Russian, then in French told Peter to see what was happening at the front of the house. When he reappeared it was with the third Frenchman and the two of them were dragging along one of the guards. He appeared to be badly wounded: he was groaning and his chest was covered in blood.
‘What about the other two?’ asked Viktor.
‘Dead,’ said the third Frenchman.
‘And him?’ He was nodding at the injured guard.
‘Took one in the chest.’
‘Finish him off.’
The Frenchman had been holding a revolver by his side. Now he knelt down by the guard and yanked up his head, forcing the barrel of the gun into his mouth. As he did so, the guard seemed to become fully conscious, his eyes opening wide, clearly terrified. The three children screamed and were only silenced when Viktor shouted at them. When the Frenchman pulled the trigger, the guard’s head slumped. There followed a long silence then the sobbing of the three children. Tatyana sat very still, clearly in shock and seemingly unaware of what was going on. Henry noticed Anatoly was staring at him.
Viktor spoke to the family in Russian, pointing at Anatoly and waving his pistol around. They all nodded. We understand. Then he spoke in French. ‘I’m going to separate them now.’
He pointed to the three Frenchmen. ‘I’ll take Anatoly into the study; he and I have much to talk about. One of you will come into the study with me, the other two had better keep an eye on the rest of the house – make sure one of you stays in the guardroom, we need to keep an eye on the front. Peter, you stay in here. William, you too: try to keep the children distracted. You’ll need this.’
It was only when Viktor handed a revolver to Henry that it dawned on the family he had betrayed them. From the shocked look on the faces of the children and the glare of hate on that of the father, Henry realised that, until that moment, they must have thought he too had been caught up as a victim in this nightmare.
Anatoly was hauled up by one of the Frenchmen, who handcuffed his hands behind his back before marching him out of the room. As he passed Henry, Anatoly stopped and looked Henry straight in the eye before spitting out ‘du Bastard!’
None of the children wanted anything to do with their tutor. They ignored all his attempts to talk in English. Nadezhda spent most of the time quietly sobbing, sitting on the floor by her mother’s chair. Little Nikolai looked confused and terrified, while Roza stared at him with blazing eyes. ‘You were the one person I thought understood me, you were someone I trusted,’ she said in German, in a quiet but angry voice. ‘You know what will happen to us now, don’t you?’
‘Everything will be all right Roza, don’t worry.’
‘You think so, do you Englishman? In that case you have no idea who is it paying you.’ She shuffled over to him, lowering her voice even more. ‘They will kill us all, you realise that?’
Peter leaned over from the nearby chair where he was sitting, ‘Shut up’ he shouted at Roza. He turned to Henry and spoke in French: ‘Don’t talk with her anymore.’ From the study there was the sound of raised voices in Russian, mostly Viktor, but Anatoly too. The afternoon turned into evening and one of the Frenchmen brought food into the library, but apart from Nikolai, none of the family ate anything. When it began to turn dark, Viktor called Henry and Peter into the kitchen.
‘He finally understands we mean business. I think he realises he has no alternative but to do what I say. There’s a train to Bern at 7.20 tomorrow morning: Lucien and Jean-Marie will go with him. He’ll be at the Swiss Volksbank when it opens and I’ve agreed he can telephone here to reassure himself everyone is safe. Then he’ll transfer all the funds from the Swiss Volksbank. After that, they’ll travel to Zürich and repeat the procedure at the Union and Eidgenössische Banks.’
‘How do we know he’ll transfer all the funds under his control?’ asked Peter.
‘We can’t be totally sure, but we know from following him that these are the only three banks he’s ever visited. I managed to persuade him to show me what documentation he had and the accounts amount to just over nine hundred million Swiss Francs: that’s more than we estimated. They will be very pleased. By tomorrow night that money will be in accounts controlled by the Party.’
‘And what happens then Viktor?’ The German looked nervous, playing with his watch strap and biting his finger nails, glancing first at Henry and then back at Viktor.
‘We’ll see. I’ve told him he’ll be brought back here and that a few hours after we leave the town we’ll phone the local police to release them.’
‘Roza told me that they’re all going to be killed,’ said Henry. ‘Why would she say that?’
‘Don’t worry about it synok. We know what we’re doing.’
‘But…’
Peter leaned over the table and grabbed Henry’s forearm, very tight. ‘Don’t you remember anything? We just do as we’re told. This isn’t that stupid game you play for days at a time in England, understand?’
Never question; never discuss; never hesitate.
Viktor told them both to shut up. They would keep Anatoly apart from the rest of the family that night. Two of them would guard him while the others stayed with Tatyana and the children in the library, taking it in turns to sleep. Anatoly was made to telephone the housekeepers: you aren’t required tomorrow, please take the day off – we’ll see you as usual on Thursday.
Anatoly was woken up at six in the morning. Henry
had been with him in his bedroom along with Peter for the past few hours and was surprised that the Russian had slept at all. They watched while he washed, shaved and dressed. When he was ready, he turned around and addressed them.
‘Tell him I want to say goodbye to my family before I leave.’
They called Viktor up and there was a short exchange in Russian. The result was that, as Anatoly came downstairs, he went into the library and hugged each member of his family, but said nothing other than a word or two in Russian to each one. When he had finished hugging the last one, Nadezhda, he turned sharply and swiftly left the room. As he passed him in the hall Henry noticed the Russian’s eyes were filled with tears.
***
Viktor spent much of that Wednesday in the study, behind Anatoly’s desk. The first phone call came at 9.30: it was Lucien at the Swiss Volksbank. Peter brought Roza through from the library and put her on the phone to her father. Yes, we’re alright. When are you coming home? What are they…? The phone was snatched back from her. Thirty minutes later and Lucien rang again. The money had been transferred. They were now on their way to Zürich. The next phone call came at a quarter to one. It was Jean-Marie to say they had arrived in Zürich and were about to go into Eidgenössische Bank. This time, Nadezhda was brought in from the library to assure her father all was well. Henry was in the study when Jean-Marie rang again at 1.30 to say the transfer had been made; they were now on their way to the Union Bank.
‘Wait: ring me back in half an hour. I need to make a call first.’
Viktor dialled a Zürich number and, after a short conversation in which he said no more than a few words, a large smile filled his face, displaying the familiar gold teeth. ‘Good news, synok. The funds from both banks have already been transferred to our account in Credit Suisse. Before the close of business today they will have been spread among various untraceable accounts across Europe. We are better at capitalism than the capitalists!’
By three o’clock the business had been done. Nikolai had spoken to his father before the transaction at Union Bank then Lucien rang to say it had been completed.
‘Is Yevtushenko in the room with you?’ Viktor was speaking with Lucien. ‘Right then, don’t say anything, but when I have finished say out loud you will be on the 4.15 train from Zürich and you expect to be back in Interlaken by eight o’clock, you understand? You know what to do, Lucien… I will see you in Paris.’
Viktor paused while Lucien spoke then placed the phone back on the receiver, holding onto it for a while after putting it down. He sighed and loosened his tie.
‘All good, synok. The transfers have taken place. Moscow will be delighted. Now, Trotsky has no more money.’
Henry nodded. ‘Is Anatoly on his way back here, Viktor?’
The Russian peered at him as if the sun was in his eyes. ‘Tell Peter to come in. You stay in the library with Claude.’
***
The longest half hour of Henry Hunter’s life began very soon after that.
He was in the library with Claude, keeping an eye on Tatyana and the three children when Viktor appeared in the doorway. He spoke in Russian, and Roza and Nadezhda both raised their hands. Viktor pointed at Nadezhda and gestured upstairs. ‘I’ve asked if they want an opportunity to use the bathroom,’ he said to Henry in French. Viktor closed the library door as Nadezhda went upstairs. Viktor said nothing but glanced at his watch then up at the ceiling, his back against the closed door. After five minutes he spoke to Roza. Your turn. She brushed past Henry, looking through him as she went past, pulling her cardigan tightly around her shoulders and across her front.
Ten minutes later, with no sign of either of the girls, there was a knock at the door. Viktor opened it slightly to reveal Peter on the other side. The German nodded briefly but said nothing. Viktor nodded his head approvingly and briefly gripped Peter’s shoulder in a friendly manner.
‘Go into the guard room,’ he said to Henry, ‘and tell Claude to come here. You remain there; keep an eye on the road. Don’t leave until you’re told to.’
From the guard room Henry could see the front gate and the quiet road beyond it. The silence was pierced by a scream, one that was loud but stopped short by a popping noise then the sound of something falling. Henry wondered whether to go and see what was happening, despite Viktor’s instructions. Next came the sound of Nikolai shrieking and another popping noise, followed by two more. After that, more silence.
The door to the guardroom opened. Peter was standing there. ‘You’re to go to the library.’ When he got there, Viktor and Claude were standing in the middle of the room, revolvers in their hands. The body of Tatyana was thrown back in her chair, her eyes and mouth wide open and a large wound on her forehead. Prostrate on the floor in front of her was Nikolai, two wounds visible on his back and a large pool of blood emerging from under him.
Henry was too shocked to move and for a while could say nothing, until he noticed Nikolai’s back moving.
‘He’s breathing Viktor! Nikolai’s breathing.’ Henry felt himself swaying. Claude walked over to the boy and with his foot turned him over. Nikolai was breathing very slowly. His face was white, but his eyes were moving as if he was having trouble focussing. Claude looked up at Viktor: what do you want me to do?
Viktor held up a hand: wait. ‘Henry, you finish him off. It is a tradition in our service: everyone on a mission should take part.’ The Russian pressed his own revolver into Henry’s hand: the barrel was still hot. Henry’s hand was shaking so much that the gun was waving around.
‘Be careful with that thing, please Henry. You’d better use two hands’ said Viktor. ‘And be quick. We need to get out of here.’ Henry breathed in deeply. Never question; never discuss; never hesitate. He calmly walked over to Nikolai and knelt down by him. The boy’s head moved slowly towards him, his eyes locking onto Henry’s as his mouth opened, allowing a trickle of blood to slide down his chin.
‘Come on, quick,’ said Claude. Henry released the safety catch and placed the revolver against Nikolai’s temple. He noticed he was trying to say something: hearing him say something – anything – would be more than he could bear. When he pressed the trigger he felt the splatter of blood and flesh on him before he heard the sound. It had been no harder than shooting his puppy. Claude hauled him up.
‘Good. Well done. We need to move now.’
***
They left the house just before four o’clock, after trying to make it appear as if a robbery had gone dreadfully wrong. They opened the safe and made the study look as if it had been ransacked. Henry went upstairs with Peter to help find any jewellery. As they walked past the bathroom Henry stopped suddenly. A girl’s leg was poking out of the door. Its shoe had fallen off and was upside-down on the carpet in front of him. Peter pushed in front of him as he tried to open the bathroom door, placing himself between Henry and the door.
‘You don’t need to come in here.’
‘I want to see,’ said Henry, barging his way past the German.
The bodies of Roza and Nadezhda were sprawled on the floor, on top of a pool of dark blood that had spread around the room. The heads of both girls were jerked at an unnatural angle, facing each other, their eyes open and full of fear. Roza’s hand had reached out to her sister’s, her fingers clutching one of Nadezhda’s wrists.
‘What…’
Peter had now pushed past him and was drawing the curtains. He smiled at Henry and pointed at the girls and made a cut-throat gesture.
Henry stood in the doorway for a minute, watching as Peter hauled the bodies of the two girls into the bath then threw towels onto the floor to soak up the blood. He was shocked to realise how un-shocked he felt. His main concern was he should be careful not to step in the blood.
Henry left the house as normal through the front gate and headed into town, crossing the river and towards Interlaken West train station. He was halfway down Bahnhofstrasse when the car pulled up. Peter and Claude got out and walked towards the station.
Henry climbed into the passenger seat next to Viktor.
They drove north towards Bern, but were well past Thun before either of them spoke. ‘You realise there was no alternative, don’t you synok?’ Viktor turned briefly towards Henry, who shrugged. ‘We couldn’t afford to have any witnesses.’
Henry said nothing. Never question; never discuss; never hesitate.
Instead of driving into Bern, they stopped briefly in Köniz then took the road towards Lausanne. It was only then that Henry spoke. ‘What happened to Anatoly?’
‘I think you can guess synok.’
‘Did he know what was going to happen to him?’
‘I’d imagine so: he’s been an apparatchik all his adult life. He knows how we work. He’d have known what to expect.’
‘So why did he co-operate then?’
‘Because I promised him that if he did, we would spare the children.’
‘And he believed you?’
Viktor said nothing for a while as he thought about Henry’s question. The headlight of an approaching bus caught the Russian’s gold teeth as he turned to reply.
‘Probably not, but what choice did he have? He wanted to believe that I – we – would spare the children and his wife. Look, you’re asking too many questions synok. You did well, just leave it at that. You are one of us now. You should be happy.’
Later that night, once he had arrived home in Nyon and lay in his own bed for the first time in weeks, what most shocked Henry was the realisation of how much he agreed with Viktor. He was now one of them. He was happy. But he knew it had come at a terrible, terrible price. When he had returned from Germany the previous year he knew they had taken possession of his soul.
Now they had destroyed it.
That night, he had the dream for the first time.
***
Chapter 7: Berlin, January 1940
On a foggy winter’s afternoon in the middle of January, a tall man with a stooped bearing that gave him a misleadingly academic air left his office at the Reichsbank on Werderscher Markt in the centre of Berlin, by the canal. It was 5.30, somewhat later than most other people he worked with. The later he left work, he reasoned, the later he would arrive home and that suited him fine.
