by William Ryan
He glanced at Korolev, as if looking for approval, and so Korolev nodded, beginning to understand.
‘Alerted to his evil intentions, she informed Comrades Mushkina and Les Pins about her fears and, under Mushkina’s direction, Lenskaya and Les Pins, together with Comrade Lomatkin, I think, infiltrated a conspiracy to create an independent Petlyurist state in the Ukraine – with German backing. With me so far?’
Korolev nodded again.
‘Very good. The conspiracy was led by that fellow Damienko, a Ukrainian exile who had returned to the country from – ’ the colonel paused to think – ‘Budapest. Fortunately the efforts of Comrade Lenskaya and her fellow loyal Party members to bring the conspirators to justice were ultimately successful and resulted in the seizure of a large quantity of weapons and the death and arrest of all the conspirators, but at a terrible price. Comrades Mushkina, Les Pins and Lenskaya laid down their lives so that the Revolution might be preserved. They have joined the pantheon of Bolshevik heroes, along with Militiamen Gradov and Blumkin, of course. And we should never forget Major Mushkin. Especially not Major Mushkin. A Chekist hero of the highest valour. I shouldn’t be surprised if his mother and he weren’t buried in the Kremlin wall itself. Oh, and that journalist Lomatkin. He was a hero as well.’
‘All of their lives?’ Korolev couldn’t stop himself from asking the question; as far as he knew Blumkin, Mushkina and Lomatkin were still alive.
‘Yes,’ Rodinov said, drawing a finger languidly down the fogged-up window beside him. ‘All of them. Their selfless sacrifices for the Socialist Motherland will be an example to us all. They will be awarded the highest honours, of course. Posthumously.’
Rodinov seemed lost in thought for a moment and Korolev sensed his own fate was hanging by the narrowest of threads.
‘Which brings us to you and Sergeant Slivka.’
‘We’re happy to do our duty, as you direct.’
‘I don’t doubt it. Slivka is a Party member?’
‘Komsomol, I believe.’
‘I see, but you aren’t – isn’t that right?’ The colonel’s eyes were boring into him now, but Korolev sensed no hostility as such – not yet, at any event. He hesitated, considering how best to respond.
‘I’ve never thought myself worthy of being considered for an active political role in the Revolution, Comrade Colonel.’ Korolev spoke carefully.
‘Yes, I think you should focus on what you are good at, Korolev – digging out answers for people like me.’
There was a hint of irony in the colonel’s voice, but there was no trace of it in his expression.
‘You, Korolev,’ he said after another pause, ‘you will go back to Moscow and resume your duties.’
Korolev felt relief well up in him, but the colonel wasn’t finished.
‘I understand there are vacancies in Moscow CID that haven’t been filled. Semionov was a junior lieutenant, wasn’t he?’
‘That was his Militia rank.’
‘Then we shall promote Sergeant Slivka. You work well together. I’ll explain it to your chief. You may give her the good news. The People’s Commissar believes you may be of use to him again, sometime in the future.’
‘Thank you, Comrade Colonel.’
The colonel waved a hand in acknowledgement.
‘Now these forensics men you worked with – are they reliable?’
‘I put my life in their hands, Comrade Colonel. And they came through.’
‘Well, we shall look after them as well.’
Korolev’s face must have revealed his fears because Rodinov raised a reassuring hand.
‘Don’t worry, Korolev, they served the State loyally – they have nothing to fear.’ Rodinov’s expression was still cold, but Korolev sensed that the danger had passed. ‘What did I tell you again and again during this investigation, Korolev?’
‘That discretion was vital, Comrade Colonel.’
‘Be sure your new colleague knows it as well as you do. The Party is grateful for your contributions to the successful outcome of this matter, but you must never speak of it again.’
‘I understand.’
Rodinov studied him. ‘You have a son, Korolev, haven’t you?’ he said in a detached voice.
‘Yes. He’s eleven now.’
‘He lives in Zagorsk, doesn’t he?’
Korolev said nothing, fear paralysing his vocal cords, wondering how Rodinov knew about Yuri, and whether the threat in the question was intended, and then certain beyond doubt that it had been. He found himself trying to swallow, but there was no saliva in his mouth, wondering should he say something, assert his complete reliability, his devoted loyalty to the Party, his dedication to the revolutionary cause, but instead he just looked into the colonel’s cold eyes and kept his face as expressionless as he could.
‘You still have ten days before you need to be back at work, Korolev. Go and visit the young lad. The permits will be arranged for you. You deserve it.’
A few moments later Korolev found himself outside in the sun, in something of a daze, the freezing air sharp on his face and unexpected tears icy on his cheek. He turned away from Rodinov’s car and walked towards the Orlov House, his feet moving of their own accord and his mind not concentrating on anything much except the fact that he’d made it through this mess after all and that he’d be seeing his son. His glance fell on the ruined church and for an insane moment he found himself walking towards it, fully intent on going inside to thank the Lord for his good fortune.
But instead he pulled a hand across his eyes to dry them and then over his unshaven chin, and felt the tiredness of the last few days like a weight on his back, and with the last of his energy he turned, smiling at Slivka as he walked back towards her.
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