A Single Spy

by William Christie

  “Do you have any questions?”

  Many, but if experience had taught him anything, it was that it wasn’t smart to ask questions. “No, Comrade Director.”

  She looked down at her papers, then back up at him. “Alexsi Ivanovich, we have both boys and girls living here. You have experience with girls?”

  Well, the questions were getting tougher, but he was getting used to not understanding what anyone meant. “There were girls at my school, Comrade Director. And on the farm…” Out of ideas for possible answers, he stopped.

  For some reason she sighed and looked down at her papers again. “Because we have both boys and girls living here, it is important that your relations with girls be correct, yes?”

  Alexsi still had no idea what she was talking about, but it was clear what was expected so he nodded dutifully anyway.

  She sighed again. “Alexsi Ivanovich, do you know what a penis is?”

  Alexsi had no earthly idea what that had to do with what they were talking about. “Y-yes, Comrade Director.”

  She brightened up a bit, as if she now had something to work with. “Good. Under no circumstances will you let one of the girls here touch your penis. Do you understand?”

  No, not at all. “Yes, Comrade Director.”

  “Good. If you do, your health will fail. You will sicken. There will be nothing we can do for you. Do you understand?”

  Not in the slightest. “Yes, Comrade Director.”

  “Excellent.” Now that she had fulfilled her socialist duty to the health of his penis, she gave the papers on her desk a little pat, as if putting his history to bed. Rising from her chair, she said, “It is time for you to meet everyone.”

  There were close to a hundred children of various ages lined up in a big room filled with tables, waiting to receive their lunch. The boys were all dressed the same as him, brown trousers and pullover shirt, so it was like a school uniform. The girls wore plaid dresses with sailor collars. The Comrade Director stopped the serving, which set off an undertone of angry grumbling. Then she made him stand beside her with her hand clamped on his shoulder, so he couldn’t run away even if he had been thinking of it, while she made a speech ordering everyone to make him feel welcome. Before she was done the children started banging their trays. At first she pretended that it wasn’t even happening. Then, when it was on the verge of getting out of hand, she concluded her remarks with a forced smile and blithely walked off, leaving him there.

  The children all stared at him as if he were naked, and then nearly in unison turned their backs toward the lunch line, erupting in a roar of conversation.

  Alexsi fell in at the end, picking up a tray and a dish and a mug and a spoon. The meal was kasha with milk and a scoop of sugar, a quarter-kilo chunk of black bread, a pat of butter, and tea. The women servers looked like illustrations of witches from the Brothers Grimm, and they kept snapping at the children to move faster through the line. By the time Alexsi got there the kasha was nearly gone, and as he stood there gazing down into his not-full bowl one of the witches threw an extra chunk of bread onto his tray and barked at him to move along.

  As he came off the line the children were looking at him again as they crammed the food into their mouths. Alexsi instinctively realized that if they thought he was afraid he was finished, so as he walked across the room he stared back at them until they looked away.

  He picked the far end of the table at the far end of the dining room, and sat by himself. He ate his food and was still hungry when he was finished.

  When the meal was over he carefully watched what everyone else did. So he put his dirty dishes into the metal tubs with all the others, and followed the children as they filed out.

  Going down the hallway the crowd in front of him stopped suddenly and parted, and Alexsi knew something was going to happen. He stuck his hand into his pocket and quickly opened the drawstring on the pouch he’d smuggled in.

  Blocking his way were three of the bigger boys, maybe fourteen or fifteen. Everyone else was a safe distance back, watching.

  The one in the center, the leader, said, “Got anything good? Hand it over or you’ll get hurt.”

  “That’s right, turn out your pockets,” said the one to his right.

  Back on the farm, there was a boy named Anatoli who hated him. The first few fights Anatoli had started, Alexsi had no trouble beating him. Then Anatoli put a gang together. Alexsi was still carrying his solution to that: an old cast-iron nut, heavy but small enough to fit in his palm, salvaged from the farm scrap pile. And a length of heavy twine tied to it.

  The leader was smirking in anticipation of some fun. Alexsi knew what he was thinking: give the new kid a good thrashing to put him in his place, and keep everyone else in their place, too. At first, his stomach started hurting but that feeling was replaced by one of grim determination. If he didn’t fight back now his life here would be a nightmare.

  Alexsi jerked his hand out of his pocket and threw the nut into that smirking face as hard as he could. It hit the boy right in the eye; he screamed and threw his hands up to his face.

  If there were just one, Alexsi would have kicked him in the balls then. But there were two more to deal with. For the moment they were frozen in place by the unexpected turn of events, but he knew that wouldn’t last long. Alexsi jerked his hand back. One end of the twine was tied to the nut, the other looped around his hand. Alexsi swung his hand over his head and the nut made a loud buzzing sound as it picked up speed circling behind his back. He had practiced enough that the nut went exactly where he wanted it to go.

  It hit the loudmouth on the right just above the ear, and at a most excellent speed. His eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the floor.

  Now the third enemy had seen enough and turned to run. But Alexsi leaped onto his back and brought him down to the floor, his forefinger through the hole in the middle of the nut, smashing it into the boy’s head with all his might. After only a few blows the boy stopped yelling and was still.

  Alexsi rolled off him and jumped up on his feet. He turned his attention back to the leader, who was down on his knees, holding his eye and still screaming. Alexsi tossed the nut out behind him. It hit the floor, still tethered to him by the twine. He swung his arm forward as if he were using a whip; the nut hummed past his ear and struck the leader on the back of the head with a sound like a ripe melon dropped to the ground. The leader pitched face-first onto the floor and didn’t make any more noise.

  Alexsi stood there panting, all three enemies scattered about like rag dolls on the floor. The other children were gaping at him like a circus audience who had just seen the bear eat the trainer—totally unexpected, but an even better show.

  A girl broke out of the pack and dashed up to him: his age, pale and pretty with huge blue eyes that were shining with excitement. “Give it to me!”

  Without thinking, Alexsi yanked the pouch from his pocket, stuffed the nut and the twine inside, and stretched out his hand to her.

  She snatched the pouch from his grasp and stuffed it under her skirt. Without a pause, she’d skipped back into the crowd of kids and disappeared.

  Behind him there was shouting and the pounding of heavy feet on the wood floor. The audience scattered and two male attendants ran up and grabbed him by the arms.

  * * *

  ALEXSI THOUGHT it would be a beating, but it turned out like his old school, where the principal had to yell at him first before the thrashing with a stick. They locked him up until the Comrade Director was ready to shout at him.

  “Three boys in hospital with fractured skulls!” was how she began. “One in a coma! Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Experience had taught Alexsi that the louder people were shouting the more repentant he had to be. Head hanging low, he finally said, “Comrade Director, it was not my choice to fight with three boys on my first day here.”

  Her face was red, though he noticed that she was gripping the edge of her desk so ha
rd her hands were white. “That they were three troublemakers is beside the point.”

  “Why is that, Comrade Director?” he asked mildly.

  “Enough from you!” she shouted, coming up half out of her chair. Her eyes searched the top of her desk as if she was looking for something sharp but not particularly valuable to throw at him. Then another thought came to her. “It is said you used a weapon. Where is it?”

  So the informers were already at work. Good to know. Alexsi held his open hands out from his body in an expression of total innocence.

  The Comrade Director looked over his head at the attendants standing behind him. Alexsi could practically feel them shake their heads, and he worked hard to keep that smug feeling off his face.

  The Comrade Director knocked her knuckles on the desk. “Still, we cannot let this pass without punishment. We must be stern with you.” She nodded as if to confirm the decision her knuckles had already brought her to.

  One of the attendants grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him out of the office.

  They locked him in a small room. It had a cot, a jug of water on a little table, a mug, and an enameled chamber pot with a cover sitting in one corner.

  He sat down on the cot and waited for the punishment, but nothing else happened. He couldn’t believe it. That was it? Being locked in a room? Alexsi nearly laughed out loud with relief.

  When they let him out the next morning, everything was different. The attendants eyed him warily. The witches serving breakfast didn’t shout at him the way they did the other kids. And when he sat down at the end of a table like before, a bunch of kids moved over to sit all around him. He ignored them, but one of the smaller boys tugged on his sleeve and said, “Do you want my bread?”

  Alexsi almost took it and crammed it into his mouth, thinking the kid was full. Then he realized that no one there was full—everyone had to be as hungry as he was. The kid was offering his bread for protection.

  Something told him to think that over carefully. He pictured himself being the boss of all the kids in the orphanage. No. It would be good for a while, until a few boys eventually decided he wasn’t that tough and got him when he wasn’t paying attention. Or someone new like him came along one day and cracked his skull open. And then all the kids who did what he said would just go to the next one who was stronger, as if he’d never existed.

  “Keep your bread,” he said to the boy, who looked crestfallen. But then he added, “You don’t have to give your stuff to anyone if you don’t want to.”

  “Really?” the little boy said.

  Alexsi just nodded.

  It worked out even better than he’d hoped. The news of what he said spread like fire. He wasn’t making anyone do anything, so no one resented him. But anyone thinking about offering protection was afraid of what he might do, so no one tried to push anyone around. And he didn’t have to fight. A couple of boys approached him with offers to form a gang, but he brushed them off.

  Though he did miss that little room of his own. He slept in a huge room full of boys, with barely enough space to walk between their iron beds. The house certainly hadn’t been designed to hold that many, let alone children, and trying to get to a lavatory to do your business was a nightmare in itself. Every now and again they found a pile of shit in a corner when some kid hadn’t been able or willing to wait, and the attendants went mad. There weren’t enough taps or sinks, so in the morning it was cold washes above the waist from basins. They had to take turns on housework duty, which meant cleaning and carrying in the morning water and washing dishes in the kitchen and cleaning up the occasional pile of shit. Once a week they got a full wash in the banya, the steam bath, and were given a change of underwear after that.

  After wash and breakfast there was school. The teachers couldn’t care less if anyone learned anything. Alexsi didn’t mind. He’d always been able to learn from books, so who needed teachers?

  Of course there was always political instruction. As far as he was concerned, if they told you the sky was yellow and your eyes said it was blue, and you could get into trouble saying it was blue, then why bother? Just tell them what they wanted to hear, nod your head at the right time, clap your hands along with everyone else, and sing their stupid songs.

  Food was the main problem. It was mainly kasha and macaroni and soup and tea. Sometimes some meat, but not very often. And sometimes cocoa or milky coffee. Always black bread. He was constantly hungry. While on duty washing dishes he’d scouted where the pantries were, but they were locked up tight.

  He tried to get his pouch back from the girl who had hidden it, but every time he approached her she ran away. She was in his classes, but she sat away from him and it wasn’t something that could be discussed openly.

  Then one day he was outside reading while the rest were playing. After the fight everyone treated him like a dangerous animal whose attention you didn’t want to draw. And that was fine with him.

  Out of the blue the girl dashed up to him and whispered in his ear. “Meet me in the back stairway an hour after they turn the lights out.”

  That was it. She sprinted back to a giggling ball of girls who were all whispering to each other and stealing looks at him. And she was acting like they had dared her to speak to him.

  * * *

  ALEXSI HAD already clocked the schedule of the attendants who walked the floors at night. The girl was wise, because an hour after lights out was when they relaxed their vigilance and went off to play cards with each other.

  His bed was at the end of the room near a wall anyway, so it was a simple matter to wait until everyone’s breathing told that they were asleep and form his sheets and the pillow into a mound under the blanket and slip away.

  He was wary of waiting in the stairway in case it was a trap for some of the other boys to attack him. But the girl was already there. She raised a finger to her lips and Alexsi nodded approvingly.

  She led him up the stairs to the top floor where the Comrade Director and all the bosses had their offices. Alexsi approved of that, too. It was forbidden for the children to be there, and there was nothing of interest besides offices, so it probably wasn’t patrolled with the same vigilance as the rest of the house.

  They tiptoed down the hall, and at the far end the girl opened a small door. It was a closet where brooms and dustpans and the cleaning materials for the floor were kept. This girl was clever; no one would be looking in there after dark.

  She closed the door behind them and clicked on a chain to light a dim bulb. “If we keep our voices soft, no one can hear us.”

  Alexsi nodded and leaned against the wall, ready to run or fight if necessary.

  The girl’s hair was as black as night, even blacker against a face so pale it seemed to shine on its own. Her eyes were huge in her small face, the same blue as the birds on the first wallpaper he’d ever seen. She looked up at him strangely, as if she were waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t after a while, she reached under her dress and brought out his pouch. She opened it and shook out what was inside into her hand.

  She placed his pocketknife on the floor, along with the nut and twine, which still had dried blood on it. She held the rest out to him. “What are these?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Give them to me.” He reached out his hand, but she pulled hers back to her breast.

  “If you don’t tell me I won’t give them to you,” she said.

  “Give them to me or else,” Alexsi warned, looming over her.

  She didn’t seem at all concerned. “If you hit me I’ll tell on you.”

  Alexsi knew he was checkmated. They would always believe a girl. “They’re picks.”

  “Picks? What kind of picks?” she demanded.

  Well, she wasn’t going to be put off easily, that was for sure. “Lock picks,” Alexsi said finally.

  “I thought so,” she breathed, looking down in her hand. “Where did you get them?”

  “I made them.”

  “Made t
hem? How?”

  “From pieces of metal. And a file.”

  She had been turning them over in her hands, and now she looked back up into his eyes. “Do they work?”

  “I wouldn’t have them if they didn’t work,” said Alexsi. Stupid question.

  “How did you learn how to use them?”

  “I took locks apart to see how they worked,” said Alexsi.

  She was searching his eyes with hers, and finally asked, “Are you hungry?”

  “Of course I’m hungry,” Alexsi replied. Everyone was hungry.

  “Are you willing to take a risk for some food?”

  Alexsi eyed her suspiciously. “I’m not going to be the only one taking a risk.”

  “I’ll go with you the whole way,” she said.

  Alexsi thought it over. She wasn’t stupid, and she obviously knew her way around. And she’d kept his stuff safe and hadn’t squealed to the authorities. “You’re talking about getting into the kitchen?”

  The girl nodded solemnly.

  “Then you know that the locks aren’t the main problem. It’s the attendants sitting in the dining room in front of the kitchen door, playing chess all night. And all the other doors not only have locks, they’re barred.” The attendants knew that sneaking into the kitchen was every kid’s dream; they weren’t totally stupid.

  “I know a way,” she said. “But I need someone who knows how to pick locks.”

  “How?”

  “It will take too long to tell you,” she said. “We must do it now, to have time before the cooks come in early to start making the breakfast. Just follow me.”

  Alexsi didn’t care for that. How could he know if her plan was sound? But then again, if they got caught, what would happen? Get locked in the room by himself again? Fine.

  “All right,” he said. “Give me my stuff.”

  Now she handed it all over. They left the closet and she led him farther down the hallway. Turning a corner, she stopped, and it took him a moment to see what she was standing next to in the darkness. It practically blended into the wood paneling. A sliding wooden door about waist high on the wall, a meter wide and half a meter high, with a single brass knob that almost couldn’t be seen, it was so dark with tarnish.