The Reluctant Contact

by Stephen Burke

  She looked at her watch.

  ‘Where’s Timur?’ she asked. ‘He will be looking for me.’

  Yuri caught Catherine’s eye before he answered.

  ‘He left,’ said Yuri. ‘With Grigory. Grigory was your contact, not Catherine. I don’t think either of them is coming back.’

  Anya looked down at the floor, gathering her thoughts.

  ‘But why would Timur …?’ she said.

  ‘I think you may have put ideas in to his head, about going over to the other side. He was always an ambitious bastard, wouldn’t you agree, Catherine?’

  Catherine stared at him, wide-eyed, before nodding her head.

  ‘You and Catherine have that in common now,’ said Yuri. ‘He didn’t tell her he was leaving either. Not a word. Just upped and left.’

  Anya turned her attention to Catherine. ‘Is it true what he’s saying?’

  Catherine paused. ‘Yes, it’s true,’ she said. ‘And I don’t expect to hear from him in five years’ time.’

  ‘See,’ said Yuri. ‘You are not the only one.’

  Anya’s head seemed to be spinning with all the complications he had suggested. Catherine too did not appear to be entirely sure of what was going on. Yuri pulled a chair near to the bed and sat down. Anya shifted nervously.

  ‘Anya, I need to ask you to do something. Pretty soon, maybe as soon as tomorrow, people are going to come asking about all of this. And then after them, more people will come. Serious men. They will not be your friends or mine. When they talk to you, I’d like you to leave out Catherine’s name, and mine. Will you do that? You can mention Grigory’s name as often as you like. It doesn’t matter now.’

  Anya looked from him to Catherine. Then she nodded her agreement.

  Chapter 23

  IT WAS A full day before the alarm was raised. Two men missing. And not just any men. A thorough search was made of the town, but they were not found. In Timur’s absence the accounts clerk was ordered to contact the Norwegian police at Longyearbyen to ask for help with a search party out in the countryside.

  The Longyearbyen police informed her that there was no need to look for the former party boss of Pyramiden. Grigory Babkin had arrived in their town suffering from hypothermia, but was otherwise making a good recovery. When the accounts clerk enquired when she should send someone to pick him up, she heard laughter at the other end of the line. She was further informed that the new arrival had no intention of returning to Pyramiden or the Soviet Union any time soon.

  Yuri joined in the search party for Timur. He told anyone who would listen that he had seen the KGB man heading out of town, with Grigory, on a snowmobile two days previously. For appearance’s sake, he drove his search team ever onward until they were exhausted and in danger of frostbite. By this stage, everyone had heard the story of Grigory’s arrival in Longyearbyen. And no one really expected to come across Timur alive and kicking. Yuri was forced to make speeches of encouragement in order to rouse some enthusiasm among his group.

  On the third day, another search team found a helicopter not far from the weather station. Beside it, on the ground, was a bearded Norwegian man handcuffed to the landing rail. Frozen to death.

  Yuri asked Anya if she had told Timur in advance of her planned trip with the Norwegian trapper. She admitted that she had. Their plan depended on her staying in Pyramiden until a way was found to find Taisia. Timur had told her that he would make sure, one way or another, that she did not have to get on that helicopter.

  When the search for Timur was called off after five days, Yuri’s was the loudest voice saying they should keep going.

  The discordant sound of two helicopters making their way up the fjord was the first sign the heavy gang had been called in. Yuri watched four hard men disembark from each helicopter. These were not Norwegian policemen. They were KGB. Or something worse. A cloud of paranoia settled over the whole town. No one enjoyed having these men in their midst. Everyone was questioned about what they knew. And it wasn’t long before two of the new arrivals came knocking on Yuri’s door. He was jealous of how fit they looked. He suspected they did not keep in shape for health reasons.

  They already knew a lot and were looking for more. The Mongolian had told them about his return on a snowmobile on the day of the two disappearances. What a pal, thought Yuri.

  ‘What was the reason for your trip out of town?’ asked the questioner.

  The other man never said a word. He just watched.

  ‘Paying my respects in the graveyard,’ he replied. My assistant, Semyon, died a few months ago. Mining accident. He and I were very close.’

  The mute one wrote down Semyon’s name.

  ‘And that was where you saw Grigory and Timur? At the graveyard? What were they doing there?’

  ‘I was at the graveyard,’ said Yuri. ‘They drove past it while I was there. I waved at them but I’m not sure they saw me. They kept on going, in any case.’

  ‘And Grigory, Comrade Babkin, was a friend of yours?’

  The mute one looked up from his notes.

  ‘No,’ said Yuri. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘People tell us you played chess together. Regularly.’

  My God, thought Yuri, tongues were certainly wagging around town. He supposed it was understandable that, when confronted by these men, everyone wanted to shift attention on to the next person. If too many people were mentioning his name, then he could be in trouble.

  ‘That’s right. We did play chess. Now and again. Not regularly. He wanted to learn. I was teaching him. He wasn’t very good. But that was it. We weren’t friends.’

  The mute one wrote down a word. Yuri arched his neck but couldn’t make it out. The man caught him doing it, and Yuri rolled his head to the other side as if he was stretching a pained muscle.

  ‘And Anya, the former school teacher. You are lovers, isn’t that so?’ asked the questioner.

  ‘Were. Until recently. Yes. Did she tell you that?’

  The man ignored his question, as though it had not been asked.

  ‘Why did it end between you two?’

  ‘Why does any relationship end?’ said Yuri. ‘If I knew the answer to that I wouldn’t go through so many.’

  Yuri caught the hint of a smile from the silent one, and he began to relax a little. Anya had said nothing incriminating about him, he was sure. Otherwise this conversation would be taking an altogether different tack.

  A day later, he was called to the mine director’s office. The director and Yuri rarely had to deal with each other, except when there were problems on a large scale. And he made sure there were few of those. He made his way to his office with a sinking feeling. The subject of this chat was unlikely to be about a pay rise. When he knocked and entered, the director had his back to him, staring out the window. They now had a couple of hours of daylight each day. The sun, although it was not yet high in the sky, had already begun to have an effect on the ice-bound fjord.

  ‘Sit down, Yuri,’ said the director. His brow was creased with troubles.

  Yuri sat stiff and upright, wondering if this was finally the end of his time here. The director sat and cleared his throat.

  ‘A lot has happened lately,’ he said, throwing Yuri an occasional glance. The rest of the time he stared down at his own hands. ‘Most of it not good, I don’t need to tell you.’

  Yuri nodded, biding his time rather than opening his mouth and saying the wrong thing.

  ‘Your contract is up with us when?’ the director asked.

  Here we go, he thought, time to start packing.

  ‘Six months from now,’ he said. ‘End of September.’

  ‘I see. And how long have you been with us, altogether?’

  Yuri counted on his fingers. ‘Six contracts. Minus six months. Eleven and a half years.’

  The director raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? Is it that long? You’ve been here almost as long as me.’

  Yuri felt his pulse quickening. The director stood
and looked out the window again.

  ‘A bad business this, with Grigory and Timur. And that Norwegian pilot too. It’s all very strange. They are saying now that Semyon’s death might not have been an accident after all. They want to dig up the body. Grigory apparently is the chief suspect. They are calling him a traitor. I’m finding it all hard to believe.’

  ‘They are wasting their time with Semyon,’ said Yuri. ‘I saw the autopsy report. Even if it did happen another way, there’s no evidence to prove it wasn’t an accident.’

  The director nodded. ‘They are going to do it anyway. I will let them. They can send him back to Latvia when they are finished. I never would have pegged Grigory for a traitor, though, would you?’

  ‘You never can tell with people,’ said Yuri. ‘And do they have any idea where Timur is?’

  ‘No,’ said the director. ‘That’s even stranger. The man seems to have disappeared without a trace. No one has seen him since the day Grigory left.’

  The director descended into a long, worried silence. The dark clouds forming above the glacier across the fjord seemed to match his mood.

  ‘Was there something in particular that you wanted to see me about?’ asked Yuri.

  ‘What?’ said the director, remembering that he was there. ‘Oh, yes, sorry.’

  Yuri took a deep breath.

  ‘At unfortunate times like this,’ said the director, as he retook his seat, ‘what we need is stability. I need people I can rely on. Trust. Trust has been abused, by at least one among us, and we need to redress that. To be honest I am glad the bad apples are gone. We don’t need them. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  Yuri nodded, only because this is what he guessed the man wanted from him.

  ‘This contract of yours,’ said the director, ‘how about we extend it now for a further two years?’

  Yuri made to speak but the director held up his hand to silence him.

  ‘I know it’s a lot to ask. Life in the Arctic is harsh. And there are probably loved ones back home you want to get back to. You know I’m sure we could arrange to bring them out here if that would help?’

  Yuri thought for a moment. ‘No. Thanks for the offer. But there’s no one.’

  The director looked surprised. ‘I see.’

  ‘Well, there is one,’ said Yuri, as an idea formed in his head. ‘I have a son. Perhaps you could find him a job here. If he was interested.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said the director. ‘What are his skills?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Yuri, with no hint of embarrassment. ‘I will write to him and ask. But isn’t there a waiting list to come here?’

  The director’s face brightened considerably. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. If he wants to come, then we’ll find a way to make it happen. You are a family after all.’

  Yuri smiled. They were not a family, and had not been for twenty years. But it was worth a shot to ask.

  ‘So,’ said the director. ‘Are we in agreement? You will stay here until at least September 1980?’

  Yuri paused, not wishing to seem too eager. ‘My wages?’

  The director frowned again. ‘What about them?’

  ‘Perhaps a raise is in order, given the length of my service. Not to mention the harshness of life here, as you said. Another two years would be a big sacrifice to make. I am willing to serve of course, wherever I am asked to. It is my duty.’

  The director sighed. ‘I am sure we can come to some arrangement,’ he said. ‘Another day?’

  Yuri stood and offered his hand. The director did the same, and the deal was done.

  Finally, spring and full sun returned. The first day when it rose high in the sky had a magical quality. There were droplets of water everywhere, sparkling in the light. Yuri sat outside the power station and let the rays fall on his face. There was little heat from it, but it felt good nonetheless.

  For many reasons, it had been Yuri’s hardest winter ever. He was not the same man he had been. And his relationship with this town had changed too. Things he had been certain about were no longer so fixed in his mind. Right now, despite his agreement with the director, he was not sure he could face the sun disappearing again. The sun was life. Darkness was sleep, and death. He chose life. But he decided he would look forward to the days to come. Spring, and summer after that. Right now, the next winter was a long way off, and any decisions about his future here could be put off for a while.

  It would be a busy time too, with no space to dwell on these matters. The spring thaw would bring water, and lots of it. It needed to be managed so that it did not do whatever it wanted. Left to its own devices water was a destructive force. The ice on the fjord was the first to break up, separating into large floating blocks. These became smaller and smaller until, after a few weeks, they disappeared. Boat traffic would resume soon, and with it a changeover of staff at the mine as contracts ended and new ones began. The boats would bring new female faces, but he promised himself not to look. Although, he knew this was a lie. Look then, but don’t touch, he thought. At least for a while.

  He set about some spring cleaning in his apartment. The first chore was to empty the remains of any alcohol he had out the window. He set a target of two dry months. He knew it would not last longer than that, and perhaps he might not even reach this target. But his body would feel the benefit of even a fortnight of abstinence. His fiftieth birthday was looming in the not too distant future. If he wanted to see many years beyond that, he knew a change of lifestyle would be required.

  His double bed remained. He had awoken many times expecting to find Anya there beside him. Unconsciously, he still slept on the same side of the bed, to give her room. He would get over that in time. Despite the raw memories it aroused, the bed was definitely staying, he decided.

  One of the Lithuanian men who had helped him carry it was still in jail in Pyramiden. Jonas’s name was top of the manifest list for shipment back to Russia. He had been questioned about the recent events, but he had the perfect alibi for all, except Semyon’s death. The investigators had dug up the Latvian’s body but found nothing that would cause them to change the autopsy verdict.

  The first boat came, laden with oranges, and not a moment too soon. Their stores of fruit were long gone. As Yuri watched the crates being unloaded, a familiar figure arrived at the dock. She put down her two suitcases and walked slowly towards him. They had hardly spoken to each other since the day it had all happened, though he had seen her staggering out of the bar several times. He was surprised the KGB had not taken her back to Moscow. Perhaps they had not had room in their helicopters, given the number of men they had brought. Or perhaps they had left her as punishment for Timur’s disappearance.

  ‘Hey,’ said Anya.

  She smiled at him and he couldn’t help smiling back.

  ‘You’re off then,’ said Yuri.

  ‘I am. Going home.’

  ‘You’ll be getting your old life back, like you wanted,’ he said. ‘I hope it was worth it.’

  Anya shook her head. ‘No, I won’t. Nothing is changing for me. They are not happy with how things went.’

  ‘They don’t have to worry about Grigory,’ said Yuri. ‘He won’t cause them any more trouble. He’s retired. He’s probably sitting on a beach somewhere. I hope he is. Although a library is more likely.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ she said. ‘She is still alive. Taisia, I mean. Did you know?’

  ‘No,’ said Yuri. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Whoever was guarding her did their job well,’ said Anya. ‘The man they sent was the one who was killed. Her protector was a female agent. I heard she took a bullet for her. Typical of Taisia to have that effect on the women around her. I bet they were lovers. Do you think they were?’

  Yuri didn’t respond.

  ‘They are not happy about that,’ she continued, ‘or about Grigory leaving and Timur disappearing. Too many questions without answers. I’ll be lucky if they even let me teach kids again.’

/>   Yuri was pleased about one thing. He did not care a jot for her former lover, but he was glad she was alive. He had no desire to be responsible for a stranger’s execution. He had little sympathy for Anya’s situation, yet he could see on her face that this is what she wanted from him. She would get none. She had lied to him about so many things. But he did not deny to himself that he still loved her.

  ‘They can always send another assassin, without my help this time,’ said Yuri. ‘I presume they are not going to give up, just like that.’

  Anya shrugged. ‘I think they will never find her now. They will have moved her out of reach. And she will never get permission to contact me again. Not that she would want to now. I think she has gotten my message. Anyway, I don’t care any more. It’s over.’

  Neither of them could look each other in the eye for very long. Behind them, the outgoing passengers had started to board. Yuri spotted the tall Lithuanian being led across the small gangplank in handcuffs.

  ‘You want to teach kids again?’ asked Yuri.

  Anya shrugged. ‘It’s a job. I am going to need one of those.’

  ‘You’ll have to lay off the booze this time, if you do.’

  He could see in her eyes that she had not been dry for quite a while. She made an expression of agreement but he had seen that one too many times before. The captain of the boat rang his bell to indicate an imminent departure. Anya appeared unsure about something and he worried for a moment that she was not going to get on it. He wanted her to leave.

  The bell rang once more. Anya looked, and then turned back to him.

  ‘You could come with me?’ she said.

  He looked up at her. Of all the things she could have said, he wasn’t expecting that.

  ‘We could start again, somewhere else. The two of us. We were good together, weren’t we?’

  He knew he would decline her offer. But despite himself, he did actually consider it for a moment as he remembered the sensation of her soft neck on his lips. He longed to feel that one more time. She was close enough to touch. And he knew that she would not object if he pulled her into his arms. Instead, he shook his head and smiled.