There was another silence. Then Alexei said, “Would you mind repeating that?”
“Well, I know I asked for a visa for myself. She’s got one for you; she must have got it mixed up. But that’s even better, don’t you think?”
There was another silence on the end of the line. Then Alex said, “You don’t think this may be some kind of a trap?”
“Look, it’s your Aunt Jennifer. She was as cut up as any of us when I told her Joe had died. Now she wants to help, if she can. It’s your mother we’re looking for, Alex.”
*
“This is excellent,” Lavrenty Beria said. “Do you know, Tatiana Andreievna, I feel like a man whose house is full of flies, and who has laid a slice of bread, thickly covered with treacle, on his table, and who watches the flies come onto the bread, one after the other. He is a patient man, so he just watches, while each one is trapped in the treacle, until they are all there, and then…a single great swat, and they are all dead, and he is troubled no more.”
“Is that what you intend for Alexei Bolugayevski, Comrade Commissar?” Tatiana asked, with apparent ingenuousness. Her old comrade-in-arms. But a man who had rejected her, at the end.
“That is what I intend for…” Beria hastily changed his mind about what he would have said. He had come so close to this woman that he had nearly told her the truth. “Of course,” he said. “But first, we must let him incriminate himself. I am sorry he is your cousin, Tatiana. But the Bolugayevskis are a poisonous brood. You are the only good member of the family. You and your mother, of course.”
Tatiana checked a frown; she knew how heartily Beria disliked Jennie. “It is good to hear you say so, Comrade Commissar. But you do understand that Alexei is coming to visit my mother. And me.”
“Well, I am quite sure there can be nothing dangerous in him seeing your mother. Of all the people in Russia, I am sure Comrade Ligachevna is the most reliable.”
Once again Tatiana checked a frown. He was really laying it on very thickly.
“But I agree, I do not think it would be a good idea for him to meet you again. I am sure it would be embarrassing for you, and it might even be dangerous. Let me see…” he checked his desk diary. “He arrives in Russia, by plane, would you believe it, in three days’ time. He’ll be here for the Premier’s birthday.”
Tatiana nodded. “Mother intends to meet him. She expects me to accompany her.”
“Yes, but you will not be here.”
Tatiana raised her eyebrows.
“I have a mission for you,” Beria said. “A very secret mission.” Tatiana waited. Her heart no longer even pounded when she was about to be sent out into the field. It had lost its glamour for her; she was only disappointed that she was not to be given the opportunity of seeing Alexei again. But, as her master had suggested, it might just be dangerous. “You have kept an eye on the Princess Bolugayevska, as instructed? And she is fit and well?”
“As instructed.”
“Very good. Now I wish you to remove her from the gulag. Do not worry, I will give you the necessary order. It will have to be a carte blanche, as we do not wish any questions being asked. But you will have it.”
“You wish her disposed of?”
Beria smiled. “What a bloodthirsty creature you are, my Tatiana. All in good time. But first, I wish you to take the Princess to my dacha in Astrakhan. I will join you there. You will fly from Moscow to Alma-Ata, go to the gulag from there, then return to Alma-Ata and fly to Astrakhan. Requisition whatever transport you require. But you will of course tell no one, not even your mother, where you are going and the purpose of your mission, and the Princess must be kept incognito at all times.”
“I will need some assistance.”
“It will have to be somebody absolutely trustworthy.”
“Oh, yes,” Tatiana said. “I know who it will be. She helped me to deliver the Princess in the first place.”
It was Beria’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “She must be trustworthy. Are you sure it is wise not to have disposed of her?”
“Do you trust me, absolutely, Comrade Commissar?”
“Of course.”
“Because I am your creature, your creation. Well, the woman Atya is to me what I am to you. I am all she has in the world.”
“Well, then, I wish you joy of her. When you reach Astrakhan, you will hand the Princess over to my man, Polkov, and return here with your assistant. Understood?”
“Of course, Comrade Commissar.”
“And as we are going to be separated for a few days, Tatiana, I wish you to come to me, tonight.”
Tatiana did not change expression. “Of course, Comrade Commissar.”
For the last time, Beria thought, as he watched the door close behind her. It was a great shame. But quite apart from Stalin’s requirements, she really was growing too big for her boots. Having her own ‘creature’! He tapped on his desk, and Kagan came in. “You heard all that?” Beria asked. “You must wait until after she has collected the Princess. It must be done on the drive back to Alma-Ata from the gulag.”
“Will Comrade Gosykinya have a driver?”
“No. She will drive herself. She enjoys driving. But she will have this creature of hers.”
“And all three of them are to be disposed of? The Princess as well?”
“Yes.”
Kagan sighed. “It will be a pity, to dispose of two such beautiful women at the same time.”
“Oh, enjoy them first, if there is time,” Beria said. “That will be poetic. Tatiana Gosykinya, the daughter of two traitors, attempts to be a traitor herself by freeing an enemy of the State, and in the course of her escape is set upon, raped, and murdered by Kazakh bandits. Oh, very droll.”
“And you will not miss Tatiana, Comrade Commissar?”
“She has served her purpose,” Beria told him. And besides, he had the photographs of her locked in his desk beside the spare set of the Princess. There would be no need to forget either of them.
*
“Listen,” Atya said. “I have to go away. On a mission. With Captain Gosykinya.” Halstead raised himself on his elbow.
“We are leaving tonight,” Atya said. “I do not know where we are going.”
“Shit!” Halstead commented.
“I know. But, as we are going together, and for at least a week, I may be able to learn something from her.” She giggled. “She is really very fond of me.”
Halstead grinned. “Who do you enjoy more, her or me?”
Atya wriggled sensually. “She makes love beautifully.”
“I hope there’s a but.”
“Oh, yes. I love you.”
“And not Tatiana Gosykinya?”
“It is not possible to love Tatiana Gosykinya,” Atya said, seriously. “She is a creature of the night.”
“I would like to meet her, one day,” Halstead said, and realised that he too was quite serious; such a meeting would be a culmination of his career, one way or the other. “You go and enjoy yourself, and bring me what I want to know.”
“You will wait for me?”
“Not here, darling. People would talk. But I will come to you, a week today.”
*
“Alex! Alex Bolugayevski!” Jennie swept forward, arms outstretched. In her fur coat and fur hat she looked somewhat like a Russian brown bear.
Alex allowed himself to be embraced. “It is very kind of you to meet me, Mrs Ligachevna.”
“Aunt Jennie. I am your Aunt Jennie,” Jennie insisted, still holding his hand.
“My luggage…”
“You, bring that luggage!” Jennie commanded, and the man obediently collected the two suitcases.
Alex stared in amazement. But so did everyone else and the Arrivals Lounge was crowded with people, both Russian and foreign. Jennie paid them no attention, swept her nephew to a waiting car. “I’m afraid it is a long drive to Moscow.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Alex said. What memories this all brought back. H
e and Elaine had been in Moscow, for several months, in 1941, before they had been tricked, as he now knew, into volunteering to serve with the partisans in the Pripet Marshes. By then Moscow had been under constant bombardment, there had been craters in the streets, and half-destroyed and burning buildings. Now the city was spick and span, with high-rise flats sprouting in every direction. But thinking about those days brought back other memories as well. “Is Tatiana well?” he asked.
“Oh, indeed. She so wanted to be able to meet you. But she is out of Moscow at the moment. Something to do with her job.”
“Oh.” Alex was disappointed; he had been looking forward to seeing his old comrade again, besides, he also felt Tatiana might be more help in obtaining information about his mother than Jennie. “May I ask what her job is?”
“Oh…” Jennie made a vague gesture. “She works for the government.” She giggled. “She is a civil servant. You’ll meet her when she gets back. She will only be gone a week. Now what is all this about Priscilla disappearing.”
“It happened some years ago,” Alex said. “I thought Elaine had explained it all in her letters.”
“Well, she did. And about poor Joe. Oh, poor Joe. He had such a hard life. Still, being married to Priscilla must have made up for some of it. Poor Joe. But Priscilla disappearing… And you think she may have returned to Russia? I really can’t imagine her doing that. Here we are.” The car had stopped before the apartment building.
Alex decided not to carry the conversation further until they were safely inside the apartment. But as the chauffeur opened the door, instead of allowing Jennie out, he stepped aside and his place was taken by another man, who got in.
“What on earth…” Jennie demanded.
Alex had turned to his door, which was also being opened to allow a man in. This man sat beside him, as the first man was sitting beside Jennie; two more men got into the front seat, one behind the wheel, and the car moved off. The temptation to resist them all, violently, was immense. But he was Jennie’s guest, and had to take his lead from her.
“Will you stop this car instantly,” Jennie commanded.
“There are questions that must be answered, Comrade Ligachevna,” the man in the front said, turning round to look at them.
“Do you know who I am?” Jennie demanded.
“Of course,” the man in the front said. “Or we would not have arrested you.”
“And do you know what will happen to you when Premier Stalin learns of this outrage?”
The man smiled. “Your arrest has been ordered by Premier Stalin, Comrade.”
*
Atya thoroughly enjoyed flying with Tatiana, because Tatiana always dined on caviar and champagne when she travelled on official business. The two of them sat alone in the first-class compartment as the Ilyushin turboprop hummed through the air on its way to Alma-Ata. Atya already had a fair idea where they were going; they had made this trip five years ago, with the two prisoners.
That had been a disconcerting journey, because of the Princess’s lack of interest in what they were doing to her. She had been a crushed flower, a woman existing in limbo, preparing to die. Well, surely she was dead. Equally disconcerting had been the fact that Tatiana had not let her play with the man. She had not touched him either. Perhaps because he had been too crushed to realise what was happening to him. He had spent the entire journey, his wrists and ankles tied except when his ankles had been released for him to relieve himself, staring at Tatiana. Perhaps the intensity of his gaze had frightened her. But when she had had to touch him, or to feed him, she had reminded Atya of a mother with her babe. She was a strange woman, Atya thought.
Tatiana looked at her watch, and smiled one of her lazy smiles. “Another hour.” She turned Atya’s face up for a kiss. She was far more exciting than the man Johnny. But Johnny, whatever his machinations and his long absences, was her very own; she knew that to Tatiana she was just a toy. Besides, Johnny held her life in the palm of his hand. But did not Tatiana also? And suddenly Tatiana nipped her on the lip. “Tell me about this man,” she said.
Atya pulled her head away. “Man, Comrade Captain?”
Tatiana stroked her cheek, lovingly. “You should never lie to me, Atya. You have been seeing a man. It has been reported to me. A man who is not always here. But when he is here, he sleeps in your apartment. You must be very fond of him.”
Atya wished she had not had that last glass of champagne; she needed to think very quickly and very clearly. “He is an old comrade, Comrade Captain,” she said.
“How old?”
“We met in the War, Comrade Captain. He is like a brother to me.”
Tatiana’s hand drooped onto the front of Atya’s blouse, caressing the breast, and suddenly squeezing very hard. “Incest is a crime,” she whispered.
Atya gasped for breath. “I will not see him again,” was all she could think of saying.
Tatiana released her. “A woman should have a man, whatever her other amusements,” she remarked. “But you should have told me of him. Tell me of him, now.”
“He works for the State, Comrade. He travels for the State. When he is in Moscow, he comes to see me. We met many years ago. During the War.”
“So you said. What is his name?”
“Romanowski. Peter Romanowski.”
“Peter Romanowski,” Tatiana said to herself, and Atya realised that she already knew the name. “When we get back to Moscow, I should like to meet Comrade Romanowski. We have a lot in common.” She gave one of her girlish giggles. “You.” Then she turned away, abruptly, to stare out of the window. Atya breathed, slowly and carefully. There was a crisis, looming. And yet… Tatiana had not seemed to be angry, or even upset. Jealous?
Tatiana brooded out of the window at the darkening sky. Even Atya, she thought, has a man. And I have…Atya! Nobody else in the whole, wide world. They had robbed her of Gregory, and she was determined to avenge his death. When the time came. She had always hated Shatrav, who had taken her as his own, entirely against her will, during the early days in the Pripet, before she had become the Group Commander. Oh, yes, she would settle with Shatrav. When it could be done with safety. But that would not bring Gregory back. And in truth, his memory had all but faded. It had been overtaken by Morgan.
Morgan had fallen in love with her, had asked her to flee Russia to be his wife. No one had ever asked her to be his wife, before or since. And she had betrayed him, tortured him, and then consigned him to a living hell. Because she had been unable to believe his love? Because she was too loyal a servant of the Soviet State ever to contemplate any other course of action? She liked to tell herself that was the case. What terrified her was that it might be because she was unable to accept love from any human being, even her own mother. She was too conditioned to hatred and destruction.
But the temptation, as she was coming this way anyway, to drop in at Gulag Number Seventeen, was enormous. It was only a hundred miles away from Number One. To drop in and see him again, reassure herself that he was still alive, touch him, perhaps…and be repelled by the half-human creature to which he would have been reduced after four years in that hell. She sighed, looked out of the window as the aircraft began its descent. “We have arrived.” Her mouth twisted. “And it is snowing.”
*
One of the most amazing aspects of Tatiana’s personality, Atya thought, was the way in which in a moment she could change from being a lazily lecherous creature of the flesh into a highly efficient and concentrated machine. No doubt that was one of her great strengths. By the time they had landed she was again the KGB official. A car was waiting for them, with a driver, but Tatiana dismissed him. “We will be back here tomorrow morning,” she told the local commandant, who had met them.
“The aircraft will be waiting, Comrade Gosykinya.”
“But the very minimum of people,” Tatiana told him.
“As you wish.”
Tatiana got behind the wheel, Atya sat beside her, and they drove o
ff. It was very cold, and the snow still drifted down; the sky was like a dark blue marble vault. “We are going to the gulag?” Atya ventured.
“Yes,” Tatiana told her. The main road from Alma-Ata led north-east, skirting the western end of the huge reservoir on its way to Taldy-Kurgan. Tatiana took the secondary road, which branched off to the north-west just after they had driven through the town of Kapchaga, the car bringing the children out on to the street in cheering masses. The road swung away the moment it crossed the bridge over the Akchi Kurty, where it flowed into the lake. The road then ran beside the river, as it would do until it reached the town of Pomar, some two hundred miles away, on the banks of Balkash, a lake so enormous as to be almost considered an inland sea. But Atya knew they would not be going that far, as the country grew more and more desolate and uninhabited, even in the darkness a featureless steppe. And indeed, after driving for some fifty miles, they reached a narrow track leading away to the west.
It was utterly dark by now, and they followed their headlights over the hard-packed but thin snow that covered the road, but as they turned the corner Tatiana braked. The track was certainly bad, but Atya had not supposed they would reduce speed that much — she had driven with Tatiana before. Now the car slithered sideways for some yards before Tatiana regained control. “Is there something the matter, Comrade Captain?” Atya asked.
Tatiana increased speed again, and they bumped into the darkness. “Did you not see a gleam of metal back there?”
“No, Comrade Captain.”
“I think it was a car,” Tatiana said, half to herself. “What would a car be doing, parked beside the road, in this remote place?”
“I cannot think, Comrade Captain.”
Tatiana said nothing, and half-an-hour later they were at the gates to the gulag, where Tatiana, the moment she identified herself, was shown into an office, Atya as ever at her side. The room was empty when they arrived, but a few minutes later the commandant arrived, wearing a dressing gown and very obviously nothing else. Atya remembered her from the last time she had been here, a big, bony woman with flowing red hair and huge breasts and thighs. A woman with a voracious appetite, for every aspect of life. And no doubt death as well. “You come at strange hours, Comrade Captain,” she remarked, ignoring Atya.
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