by A. D. Winch
Professor Schwarzkopf took a sip from the cup, and the hot liquid brought on a coughing fit. Some soldiers at a nearby table looked at him.
“Are you okay, old timer?” asked one.
Professor Schwarzkopf managed to smile at them and nodded.
What about the children, he asked himself. Buddy must have known what Ingrid said about them. The boy was involuntarily helping them to create IHBs, but Angel had shown that he didn’t care if the boy died. If the boy wasn’t useful, then one less IHB against him was fine.
Professor Schwarzkopf was an old man. He knew that he was regarded as stubborn, awkward, crotchety and, that on occasions, he had a sharp tongue with people he regarded as stupid. However, the anger bubbling up inside him made all those times he had lost his temper previously seem like mere drops in the ocean. He had never before felt the need to resort to physical violence, even though he had worked around soldiers for most of his life.
His latest discovery had changed him. All he wanted to do was walk into Buddy Angel’s office, tell him what he knew and then punch him firmly in the face. He even stood up to go before his logical mind took control of his emotions.
Professor Schwarzkopf sat down again and sipped his tea. If he punched Buddy Angel, a fight would begin that he had absolutely no hope of winning. If he told Buddy Angel what he knew and what he felt, he could not see any benefit for himself.
There was no way Buddy Angel would respond with, “Do you know, John? You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Professor Schwarzkopf continued to drink his tea and considered his options. For now, he would do nothing except be the most helpful team member that anyone could dream of while still being awkward with Kurtz. The last thing he wanted to do was arouse suspicion. At the same time, he would secretly gather evidence of the OSS’s activities. The boy played on his mind. For some reason, he felt a paternal instinct towards him. If Eric Meyer, was disposable then, when the time was right, he would get himself and the boy off the base and away from Buddy Angel forever.
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Chapter 13 – Lepley, Mordovia
Sasha collected Alexander from his hotel at four in the morning. She wanted to get out of Moscow before the gridlock of rush hour and had told him that this was the best time to leave.
Alexander tried not to show his surprise at the car she was driving. It was an old Russian estate car with big rectangular windows and large circular lights. He walked to the back and read the name – Volga Gaz 22. Alexander did not know much about cars but, from the way it looked, he thought that it was probably from the sixties.
He pushed the metallic button, on the boot of the car, as hard as he could and struggled to open the heavy door. Only by using both hands could he lift it. He placed the duffel bag with Andrea’s body carefully inside and began to close the door. It fell out of his hands and slammed shut.
Sasha sat behind a huge steering wheel with her mobile phone. When he opened the passenger door, she thrust out a cheek towards him. Alexander kissed her; admired her long jumper and tiger-skin leggings, and told her how lovely she looked.
Alexander had learnt very quickly that Sasha expected to be ‘treated like a woman.' This meant that she liked being complimented, needed to feel wanted and felt that a man should pay for everything.
In trying to convince her to come to Lepley with him, he had had to use all of these tactics. When Alexander had told her he needed her good looks and charm to open doors for him, she had wanted to know more. When he had then said that he couldn’t do it without her, she warmed to the idea. When he had finally said that he would pay for everything and for her time, she agreed.
“Good morning,” she said and turned the ignition key.
The car thundered into life and belched exhaust into the air. She thrust the gear stick into first and pulled away. The tyres slid slightly on the icy roads, but she gripped tight to the steering wheel and forced the car into the early morning traffic.
They spoke more freely as she drove. Their first meeting had been awkward for both of them but over the last few weeks they had regularly met and they had warmed to each other. Sasha spoke her mind, and Alexander was expected to listen. At the right time and in the right manner, he was required to respond - this meant agreeing with her. On top of this, she could be forthright and if she didn’t like something she would say so.
During their meetings, she had told him much about her life without their mother but little about the times when she had met her. She seemed guarded and, whenever Alexander asked questions about Ingrid she would invariably turn the conversation around, so he ended up talking about his mother instead.
He knew she hadn’t told him the whole story of her past. She would not answer questions about her role in the KGB, and she would not tell him what she did for a living now.
Alexander accepted this. He had not divulged everything about his past either. In particular, he avoided any questions relating to his life since his mother’s death, and he did not tell her about Eric, Ursula or especially about Andrea.
As far as Sasha was concerned, they were going to Lepley so Alexander could bring to life what Ingrid had written about in her diary. She was upset when he had told her that the diary was not with him. This was not true, but he was unwilling to share his precious momento. Fortunately, Sasha was placated when he told her what he had read, and she listened carefully to his every word.
“How long did you say the journey will take?” Alexander asked.
Sasha shrugged her shoulders and answered, “Eight, nine, ten hours, maybe more if the roads are bad.”
“But it’s nearly the end of winter.”
“It is March. Winter ends in May.”
Alexander looked out of the window at Moscow and asked, “What you do think Lepley will be like?”
“It will be cold, miserable and full of ill-educated peasants.”
Alexander nodded, as was expected, and asked “Have you been there before?”
“Yes, I have been there once only, for work.”
They talked on and off for the duration of the journey. Once they left Moscow, traffic thinned out and they travelled down long, straight roads through never-ending forests. The roads closest to the capital had been cleared of snow but as they drove further away, this was no longer the case. Sasha drove carefully over the fine white powder and showed little concern when the car slid or skidded.
Eight and half hours later they drove into Lepley. It was a small town of neatly arranged two storey blocks surrounded by a vast forest. Alexander understood why it was a good place to keep prisoners – it was hours from anywhere. If they did escape the prison camp, they would then have to survive in the forest.
There were no hotels in Lepley, but Sasha had arranged a private room in a widowed lady’s apartment. The old woman opened the door to them, dressed from head to toe in black, and showed them to their room. It had two beds with animal furs draped across them and a warm radiator – it was all they needed. She insisted they eat with her and drink some vodka. Sasha did all the talking and, when night came Alexander made his excuses and went to bed.
The next day, both with sore heads, Alexander and Sasha set off to find the Correction Colony for Foreign Citizens. It was cold outside, but the sun forced the temperature up to just below zero. As Sasha started the car, Alexander looked over his shoulder to the boot. The duffel bag and Andrea were still there. He was surprised and relieved that Sasha had not been more inquisitive about the contents of his bag.
Sasha drove them to the women’s penal colony, outside the town, and parked where the road ended. A high wire fence surrounded the prison, but it looked more like a small village inside. Sasha explained that it used to be a gulag and, from what she had found out, had been the Correction Colony for Foreign Citizens during past political regimes. She had made an appointment before they had left Moscow and, they now hoped, that they were expected.
Two guards stood wearily inside the
gates. They looked bored and cold, despite their heavy clothing. Neither of them looked towards Sasha and Alexander, as they approached the outer gates. The guards continued to make a point of ignoring them. In the end, Sasha had to shout to get their attention. She told them they had a meeting.
“Who with?” shouted one of the guards.
“Vladimir Nikolayovich Bulgakov.”
The guard walked into a small brick building and vanished.
They waited in the cold for twenty minutes before an old, fat man approached the gates from inside the prison. He wore the same heavy clothing as the guards and like them he did not rush but walked at his own deliberate pace. The guards opened the gates for him, and he walked up to Sasha.
“Have you brought the money?” he asked matter-of-factly in Russian.
Sasha nodded.
“In that case, let us talk in your car.”
Alexander sat in the back with his shoulder bag and the diary, hidden inside. The fat man squeezed into the passenger seat and kept his eyes on Sasha as she sat behind the wheel.
“Vladimir Nikolayovich, this is the historian I was talking about,” Sasha pointed to Alexander, who up until this point had been ignored.
Vladimir Nikolayovich looked at Alexander as if he were dirt. He muttered something under his breath and turned away in disgust.
Nothing more was said until Sasha handed him a wad of rubles.
“What do you want to know?”
“I am helping the historian research a paper he is writing on Soviet Gulags. He is trying to find out information about a Correction Colony for Foreign Citizens, here in Lepley.”
“It no longer exists. They closed it down and moved all the foreigners to IK-5. It is full of Chechens and Ukrainians, chjurka,” he spat the word. “You don’t want to go there.”
“You are right, Vladimir Nikolayovich. We don’t want to go there. He wants to find out about this facility during the time when Brezhnev was General Secretary of the USSR. This is the period he is focusing on.”
“That’s a long time ago and my memory is a little hazy.”
Sasha placed more rubles in his hands, and his memory returned. Vladimir Nikolayovich spoke at length about the Correction Colony, and Sasha took notes. When she tried to ask questions, he talked over her. Once he felt he had said enough to justify his fee he simply stopped talking, and the car fell silent.
“So the colony no longer exists? Was it destroyed?” Sasha asked.
“No, it was decommissioned in nineteen eighty-four and left to fall apart by itself. It is in the forest behind here,” and he pointed to beyond the penal colony. “Keep walking that way. Follow the tracks in the snow and you’ll find what’s left.”
“If you want to know anymore…,” he held out his hand for more money, but Sasha ignored it.
“Be careful in the forest,” he said with a smirk and got out of the car.
They watched him trudge back to the gates, and the guards let him in. For a while, they sat in silence and then Sasha turned to Alexander.
“What did he say?” Alexander asked.
“He did not say much.”
“But he didn’t stop speaking!”
“He only said that he was a big man, a proud man and that he doesn’t like foreigners. I think he enjoys working here. He is not a good person.”
“There must have been something he said that could be of interest.”
“Only that on the other side of this facility, in the forest, is the remains of the Correction Colony.”
“Great work, Sasha. That’s all we need really.”
“Not we. That is all you need,” Sasha did not look as enthusiastic. “This is your pilgrimage, not mine.”
“What’s the problem?” asked Alexander.
Sasha looked scared, “He said to be careful.”
“So?”
“I am not sure we paid him enough, and we are a long way from our homes.”
Alexander thought for a second before replying, “You stay in the car. As you said, this is about me, not you. I’ll go by myself. Is that okay with you?”
Sasha smiled weakly, “I am sorry Alexander. This is beyond what I have been asked to do.”
“Don’t worry,” he rested a hand on her shoulder. “You will be okay here for an hour or possibly more?”
Sasha took his hand and answered, “I will be fine. Just please come back.”
Her smile vanished; her eyes were pleading and then she picked up her mobile phone before Alexander had a chance to reply.
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Chapter 14 - Correction Colony for Foreign Citizens
The sun had been covered by cloud and the temperature dropped. A freezing wind blew snow up from the open ground surrounding the penal colony. The icy blast stung Alexander’s face. He pulled his coat up around his neck and pulled his hat down until it was just above his eyes. The wind whipped around him and twirled the bag over his shoulder. Alexander hoped his mother’s diary would not fall out and wished he had studied it more.
When he had planned to come down here, he hadn’t thought about what he was going to do. He still didn’t know. Foolishly, he had thought it would still be the same as in the diary. He had not considered that years later it would have changed.
The ground was covered in dusty snow, but Alexander could make out two shallow troughs leading away from him. This was the track that Sasha had told him to follow into the forest, and he began to move. It was eerie walking beside a prison that he could see clearly into. There were lights on in some of the windows, and occasionally he saw women in blue uniforms scuttling between buildings but otherwise it looked like a ghost town.
“Nobody wants to be out in this,” he said to himself and shivered.
Alexander continued to walk quickly, and he soon reached the edge of the forest. For a moment, he paused to take in the tall trees and to see if the track did lead further in. As far as he could see, it did, and he continued.
Once he was out of the open, the wind died down and the temperature became marginally more bearable. There was less snow on the forest floor, and the track was easier to make out. Around him, he could hear branches bending and creaking and every so often he could hear large quantities of snow falling in heaps onto the ground. The absence of any human noise was unnerving.
He followed the track for another ten minutes, and just as he was about to give up hope he came to a clearing. It was the size of about six football pitches but if he had not known what way to go, he could have easily walked past it.
Snow drifts had formed just inside the boundary of the trees, and Alexander thought that this was where the old colony walls must have been. In places, the snow had made mounds, and Alexander wondered if this was where the watchtowers had been. Within the clearing were two buildings, slightly shorter than the trees. Over the years, they had partially fallen down, or had been knocked down but it was difficult to tell. They were long and looked like cellblocks, but the roofs were missing as were all the windows and doors. All that was left were the broken shells, and Alexander could hear the wind as it whistled through them.
To Alexander’s left, near to one of the hidden walls were a group of three trees, standing alone from the others. Beside them, was a small timber building. The top floor had obviously collapsed as rotting planks were scattered on the ground poking through the snow. A fire had blackened one of the outside walls, and a wooden door swung on its hinges in the wind.
Alexander opened his bag and took out the diary. It was not easy to turn the pages with his gloves on, but he refused to take them off. Eventually, he found the page he was looking for and read it.
My area is surrounded by a fence made of barbed wire. In its centre are a small wooden house, three trees and patches of sad looking grass. My living companions in the house are four painfully thin women. There is a watchtower joined to a high wall beyond the barbed wire.
Alexander looked from the diary towards the building. Ther
e was a large mound of snow set back from the snow drifts.
This must be it, thought Alexander. The snow mound is the watchtower. The snowdrifts the walls. The three trees are still standing, and the house is made of wood. He put the diary back and walked towards it. The snow drifts came up to his waist, and he soon found that they were more treacherous than they looked. As he got halfway through, he tripped on a broken piece of wall and landed on a knot of barbed wire. Fortunately, his clothes were so thick that he wasn’t hurt, but his coat was ripped.
Once he was over, it was easy to walk across the former colony. He avoided any bumps in the snow and walked where the ground was flat. When he reached the three trees, he stopped to reflect. He wasn’t sure how he felt. In some ways, he felt happy that he had made a connection to his mother’s past life, and also his own. According to the diary he had been here while a baby. However, the place was so desolate and bleak that he couldn’t help but feel sadness at what she must have gone through and relief that he had no memories of it. He wasn’t sure if he would find anything of interest here except ghosts of the past.
His thoughts were disturbed by noises coming from inside the wooden house. He could hear something being pushed and a great deal of scratching on wood. Alexander looked behind him, for somewhere to run to if need be. He was at least two hundred metres from the forest. If he chose to sprint, anyone who was inside would see where he was going. To make matters worse, he would also have to navigate through the remnants of two old walls and hidden barbed wire.
The noises stopped, and Alexander decided to approach the house.
“Hello,” he shouted. His voice sounded so lonely and hollow. “Privet, hello.”
There was no response.
Alexander reached the door and shouted into the house, “Hello, privet.”
