Shoot Me, I'm Already Dead

by Julia Navarro

  They made a plan. Joshua would go with Irina to her house to pick up Mikhail, with Samuel saying that he would not leave without saying goodbye to his father; then they would meet up again at Konstantin’s stables, where he would provide them with a carriage to get them out of Saint Petersburg that very night.

  “It’s a risk going to your house, you won’t get anywhere if they arrest you,” Joshua said to Samuel.

  “I cannot leave without talking to my father.”

  As he approached his house, Samuel saw nothing suspicious. He hurried up the stairs to the apartment. Suddenly he thought of Andrei. Had they arrested him too?

  The house was silent and dark, but he realized immediately that something had happened. The table in the hall had been knocked over, beside it a vase had been smashed, and the watercolors had been torn from the wall and trampled and scratched.

  He found Raisa Korlov in the salon with her eyes unfocused and red from tears. The woman was shivering and didn’t seem to notice his arrival.

  All the furniture had been knocked over, the curtains had been torn down, the delicate frames that had contained family photographs had been destroyed by some perverse hand.

  Samuel shut his eyes and vividly remembered that day, so many years ago, when he had found his house burned to the ground and all his possessions broken into fragments. On that day he had lost his innocence, and his faith. What kind of God would not have halted the murderous hand that had struck down his mother and brother and sister? And now, once again, he came face to face with the same destruction.

  “And my father? Where’s my father?” he asked the widow, shaking her to bring her out of her stupor.

  But Raisa seemed not to hear him. She did not even look at him.

  The room where he lived with his father had also been torn to shreds. His clothes were spread all over the floor, as were the books his father had kept as if they were precious stones; hundreds of pages had been torn out and trampled on, and suddenly Samuel felt his heart begin to beat faster. He rummaged through his desk, which his father had bought for him so he could study. It was empty, they had even taken the pen that Professor Goldanski had bought for him when he was accepted into university.

  “I am lost,” he thought. In one of the desk drawers he had kept all the papers connected with his clandestine activities, although he had been sure always to keep it locked.

  How could he have been stupid enough to leave hidden proof that he was an enemy of the tsar in his own room?

  And these papers incriminated him, even though they contained nothing more than reflections on the misery that the peasants suffered and the need for a government that would be more aware of the people’s needs. He went back to the living room and took Raisa Korlov’s hands between his.

  “I’m sorry . . . I am truly sorry. I need to know what happened . . . Please!” he begged, waiting for some reaction from the woman.

  But Raisa Korlov seemed to have let her mind loose to wander somewhere that was not her own house. Samuel realized that this friendly and vivacious person, so full of life when he had said goodbye to her only a few hours before, had turned into an old woman.

  He went to look for a glass of water and some tranquilizing medicine, and made her take it while he stroked her hair and tried to calm her down. Then he took her to her room and helped her lie down on her disordered bed.

  “Please, Raisa, I need you to tell me where my father is.”

  Sitting next to her, rocking her in his arms, he waited patiently for the woman to react.

  “They took him,” she murmured after a long pause.

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know . . . It was the Okhrana . . .”

  “What were they looking for? Why did they take my father?”

  “They were looking for you. Andrei told them that you had gone to the Goldanskis’ house, that you must be hiding there.”

  “Andrei? He was here when the Okhrana came?”

  She sank back into silence, and Samuel squeezed her hand, begging her to make one last effort to tell him what had happened.

  “Andrei had come home. He asked for you. Your father had gone to bed and I was knitting, I wasn’t tired and so I hadn’t gone to bed. I asked him why he was home so early, I thought he was at a party with some friends. He said he was tired. I thought he looked strange . . . nervous, all he did was pace up and down the room, looking through the curtains every now and then. It was midnight and I was about to go to bed when we heard knocks on the door and someone telling us to open up at once. That’s what I did, I opened and . . . Some men came in, they pushed me . . . They said they were from the police and were looking for you . . . Your father had been woken up by the shouts and the knocking and came out of your room. He asked what was happening and they . . . they pushed him and . . . one of them punched him and asked for identification. Your father gave them his documents and asked what they were looking for, he said there must be some mistake. They didn’t listen to him, they started to turn the house upside down . . . Look, they even slashed the cushions . . .”

  “And Andrei? What did he do?”

  “He was silent, scared, but the men ignored him. I started to shout, to beg for them not to destroy my house, but they . . . they pushed me and threw me on the floor saying that if I carried on screaming then they would arrest me and take me away and that I would never see the light of day again. Your father tried to help me but they hit him as well . . . The agents went into your room and after a while one of them came out with some files in his hand. ‘Whose papers are these?’ he asked. ‘This is proof of the conspiracy.’ ‘Where is Samuel Zucker? He’s a terrorist . . . and we know how to deal with terrorists, with people who conspire against the tsar.’ Your father got up from the floor as best he could, and . . . well, he said something unexpected. ‘These papers are mine, they have nothing to do with my son. Samuel doesn’t care about politics, he’s a chemist. These papers are mine. Tell them, Andrei.’ Andrei was pale and did not know what to do, but he agreed all of a sudden: ‘Yes, they’re his papers.’ The policeman laughed and made us frightened and said that they would catch the son, but for the time being they’d make do with the father. Isaac kept on swearing that these papers and folders were his. ‘Andrei, you know me, you know how I think, tell these men, tell them my son is innocent, that the papers are mine, that I’m the only guilty person, tell them . . .’ One of the men hit him again and threw him to the ground, then another one kicked him in the head and I thought that he’d killed him. Andrei . . . Andrei didn’t do anything, he just looked on in silence . . . The men finished looking through the house, they even opened the sideboard and threw all the china on the floor . . . When they had destroyed everything they left, taking your father with them.”

  “And Andrei?”

  “They told him to go with them. Before they left, one of the policemen threatened me: ‘So, this is a terrorist’s house. We’ll come for you, old woman,’ and then he threw me on the ground and kicked me.”

  Raisa Korlov seemed calmer, the drug was having its effect and her eyes were closing. Samuel calculated that she would sleep for a few hours before facing the devastation again. He watched her until she fell into a deep sleep, and said to himself that in this story, as the widow Korlov had told it to him, Andrei’s behavior was extremely odd.

  He left Raisa’s room without knowing what steps to take next, aware of all that his father had sacrificed for him, and also aware that, without the protection that Konstantin had provided, he himself would now be in an Okhrana cell. It was only the countess and Konstantin who could help him find out what had happened to his father, and Countess Ekaterina had made it abundantly clear that she now had to think of her family.

  He found some clean clothes and washed himself with the remains of a piece of soap. He had decided to go to the Okhrana headquarters. He would hand himself in and save his fath
er. Isaac had wanted to sacrifice himself, to surrender his life in exchange for his son’s, but Samuel was not going to let him. He had to pay, and he could not leave his father a single second more in the hands of the tsar’s terrible police force. His father had shown him once more just how much he loved him, and Samuel thought himself a poor wretch because he had not been able to save his parent from so much pain.

  He was just getting ready to leave when he heard some soft knocks on the door and a thin voice calling his name.

  When he opened the door, he found Joshua, who was holding Irina’s hand. Irina was carrying Mikhail, Yuri’s son.

  He led them through to the living room, and Joshua only needed a single glance to work out what had happened.

  “Barbarians!” he exclaimed indignantly.

  “They have taken my father. They found some papers that I had, records of our meetings. My father claimed that they were his so as to get me out of trouble. I’m going to turn myself in. I cannot allow him to pay for something he did not do.”

  “But they will torture you! They’ll make you confess!” Irina’s voice was filled with fear.

  “Confess? I’ll try not to incriminate anyone, but I assure you that I want to take responsibility, I will not allow my father to pay for my actions.”

  “My house had been turned upside down. There was nothing left standing. My parents were terrified, although they had not taken the child . . . I asked them to leave Saint Petersburg today, my mother’s brother lives in the country,” Irina said.

  “Did you have anything that could incriminate you?”

  “I haven’t done anything, I only know what Yuri told me, and . . . Well, I think there must be a traitor in your group, someone has betrayed you . . .”

  “I think it was Andrei,” Samuel replied.

  “Andrei? It’s impossible! He’s Sokolov the librarian’s right-hand man!” Irina exclaimed.

  “Andrei was here tonight when the Okhrana came, and Raisa Korlov told me that his behavior was very strange. Also . . . Well, it seemed that there was some collusion between the killers and Andrei. It was he who told them that they might be able to find me at Countess Ekaterina’s house.”

  “Impossible . . . ,” Irina repeated.

  “If you’ll allow me, Samuel, I’ll go with you to the Okhrana headquarters and we’ll ask about your father, we’ll see what the situation is and then we’ll decide what to do,” Joshua suggested.

  “No, my friend, I don’t want to get you into trouble. You know that they will arrest me, and if you come with me they’ll suspect you, too. As for what I should do . . . Would you allow your father to suffer for your crimes? I am not a hero, and I know what might happen to me, but I have to accept responsibility for this. You can do something for me: Protect Irina, they’ll come for her sooner or later. I . . . I don’t know how long I’ll be able to withstand the torture . . . They say that in the end, with the Okhrana, everyone speaks . . .”

  Little Mikhail listened to the grownups’ conversation in silence. He was no more than four years old, but he seemed to realize that this was a crucial moment in the lives of his father’s friends, and in his own life as well.

  “Let me come with you . . . I’ll be of some use at least,” Joshua insisted.

  “The only thing you’ll achieve is that they’ll arrest you too; we can’t leave Irina to face her fate alone . . . ,” Samuel insisted.

  “We won’t. We’ll go to the Goldanskis’ house, I hope that the countess is still in her rooms, recovering after the party. Konstantin will help us. Irina has to leave Russia straight away.”

  “What are you saying! I cannot leave, where would I go? I have to look after Mikhail . . . Yuri has been arrested, I don’t know what will happen to him . . .”3“You know very well what will happen. If you really care about Yuri, take his son, it’s the only thing you can do for him.” Joshua’s tone of voice brooked no argument.

  “I want to go with my father.” Mikhail pulled at Irina’s skirt, and his eyes showed fear, intense fear, of losing his father.

  “We’ll go to Konstantin’s house, it’s the best option,” Joshua said, cutting off the conversation.

  Samuel went into Raisa Korlov’s room to say goodbye. It helped him a little to see her asleep, although it was an uneasy sleep, filled as it was by the nightmare of the Okhrana destroying her house. He couldn’t help feeling wretched for having brought so much pain upon a house where he had grown up, surrounded by his father’s love and the care and comfort of the Korlov widows: wise Alina, who had already died, and good Raisa, always ready to help him.

  It would be a while before she woke up, and he thought that he would have liked to help her put the fragments of her house back together, but he knew that in a few hours he would be a prisoner in the hands of the police.

  When they reached the stables at the Goldanskis’ house, Samuel and Irina hid, just as Joshua had told them to. It was to their advantage that the sun had not yet come up and that most of the servants were still fast asleep after having drunk abundantly to celebrate the New Year. Joshua went to the main entrance, where a servant told him that the family was asleep. But Joshua insisted they wake his friend. The party had finished before its planned end. No one felt particularly happy after the Okhrana had come in. Konstantin followed Joshua to the stables.

  “They arrested my father,” Samuel said, explaining what had happened over the last few hours.

  Konstantin listened in silence, looking remorseful, his eyes red from lack of sleep.

  “I’ll wake my grandmother. She has a great deal of respect for your father, maybe her influence in the court will be helpful . . . But I don’t know, you know she’s very angry . . . She has forbidden me from seeing you again . . .”

  “Your grandmother is right, I’ll only cause you problems. I must go, but I can’t stop thinking about my father being tortured by those savages, I should go straight away.”

  However, Konstantin insisted on waking his grandmother, he made them wait a good long while until Countess Ekaterina came into the salon.

  She was an old woman, and she appeared to be shrunken and exhausted by what had happened the night before.

  “I had hoped not to see you again. My grandson has explained the situation. I should not do anything that might get my family into trouble, but I will do it for your father. I will go this morning to see a good friend of mine whose husband is well situated in the court hierarchy. His family is related to Konstantin Pobedonostsev, the tsar’s tutor. I cannot promise you anything. But you know that Konstantin Pobedonostsev has a great influence over Tsar Nicholas, and tells him to remain strong in the face of any attempts to change how Russia is governed. Revolutionaries are treated as the worst kind of criminal and it is difficult to obtain any kind of clemency for them. You do know, Samuel, that my husband was a fair man, but he was also intelligent, he knew the problems that Russia was facing, but he also knew what the limits were, so he did whatever he could to help, to improve the condition of those who needed assistance, to use whatever influence he had to make sure that things changed, and . . . Well, you know that he helped several people, but he never put his own family in danger, what purpose would it have served?”

  Samuel did not reply. He lowered his head and bit his lip. He felt the countess’s intense gaze fixed upon him.

  “They will arrest you, Samuel, and I don’t want them to arrest you in my house, so you had better leave. As for Irina, I agree with Joshua, you should escape as quickly as you can. Konstantin, give her whatever money she needs and get her a coach that will take her where she needs to go to be safe, but not one of ours, it would be too dangerous . . .”

  “I’m not leaving!” Irina exclaimed while Mikhail grabbed her leg with all his might and burst into tears.

  “In that case, my dear, we cannot do very much for you or for the child who is now your responsibility.
If you stay, you will be arrested and tortured and . . . you will lose your life. If that is what you want, then so be it, but I have no other option than to ask you, also, to leave my house as soon as possible. You should not have come back.” Countess Ekaterina spoke with extreme calm.

  “Grandmother, I’ll take care of it, now I’ll go see if we can save Isaac . . . And . . . Well, I remember that grandfather had some kind of friendship with the tsar’s uncle, Sergei Aleksandrovich Romanov; perhaps he has some influence in the court . . .”

  “I cannot just go and present myself to Sergei Aleksandrovich.”

  “I will go to the Okhrana’s headquarters. Countess, I beg you to tell your friends the truth, that I am the only guilty party here and that my father confessed to protect me. If you tell the truth it will be easier to save him.”

  “He is in the Okhrana’s hands, so . . . No, it will not be easy to save him, or you,” the countess replied.

  “Grandmother, I’m begging you, do whatever it takes!” Konstantin had taken the countess’s hand and raised it to his heart.

  “Only God can perform miracles. Samuel, if you decide to go to the Okhrana headquarters I would not blame you. I don’t even want to imagine what your father is suffering now . . . As for you, Joshua, I think that you should not compromise your position if you don’t want to put your family in danger. Although it hurts me to say it, you are a Jew, and your grandfather is a well-known rabbi. I don’t need to remind you what it means to be a Jew in Russia . . . And the fact of your being a friend to Samuel and Irina . . . No, you must not put your family into any danger.”

  “It is my duty. I cannot abandon my friends,” Joshua replied firmly.

  “There is nothing you can do. I have given you some advice, just as I would if you were my grandson, but I cannot stop you, of course. Now I must insist that you leave my house, I don’t want to be an accomplice to this madness.”