“I knew it was in the Government Building,” Sonia said. “As to which it was, I asked the concierge.”
“And he let you in? Shit! We have been betrayed, by this stupid woman. We must get out of here. Now.”
The others stared at her.
“Coats. Guns,” Tatiana told them.
“But where can we go?” Priscilla asked.
“Anywhere. Otherwise…” she checked as noise seeped up through the building. She moved to the window, looked down. “Too late. The building is surrounded.”
“Well, then…” Halstead picked up his pistol.
Priscilla looked at Andrew. How long ago seemed that immense moment they had shared. Galina burst into tears; Helena threw an arm round her shoulders. “I don’t understand,” Sonia said.
“My mother has been arrested by the KGB,” Tatiana spat at her. “Your coming here and asking for her has killed us all; the concierge has reported to the police.”
Sonia bit her lip. They still hadn’t told her what they were all doing in this tiny apartment; they were clearly conspiring. But if Jennie had been arrested, presumably her daughter was also seeking shelter — despite the uniform. “Wait a moment,” Andrew said. “If the concierge has reported the arrival of Madame Bolugayevska, looking for your mother, Tattie, then the police have come to arrest her. They still don’t know we are here.”
“Don’t you think she will tell them?” Tatiana demanded.
Sonia drew a deep breath. “Perhaps I can help you. Those people, are they city police, or KGB?”
“They will be KGB,” Tatiana said.
Sonia’s brain was racing. If only she knew more about the set-up within that most terrible of organisations. But she did know that her survival, and her assignment, had been kept the closest of secrets by Beria. He wanted Russia. He had not dared share that ambition, with anyone. There were feet on the stairs, moving stealthily, but still audible. “We are lost,” Tatiana said. She looked at the Princess. “It seems that I must break my word, your highness. But I think we have one final chance. An appeal to the Premier.”
“Supposing you are allowed to get there,” Halstead pointed out.
“The alternative is to shoot ourselves, now,” Tatiana said. “I am not going to allow Beria to put an electrode between my legs.”
“I can save all of your lives,” Sonia said. Every head turned towards her. “Put down your weapons,” she said. Halstead and Tatiana exchanged glances. “I wish to live, myself,” Sonia said, simply.
Tatiana placed her revolver on the table. Halstead did likewise. Priscilla instinctively moved towards Andrew, and held his hand. Helena and Galina were already holding hands. The door burst open, torn right off its hinges, and they faced several men, each carrying a sub-machine-gun. Tatiana raised her hands, and the others followed her example.
Then there was another man, short and thick-set, and armed only with a pistol, which he had not even drawn from its holster. His men made way for him as he came into the room. “What a clutch,” Kagan remarked. “Tatiana! I have been looking everywhere for you. Princess! What a pleasure it is to see you alive and well, after having been dead for so long.” He looked at Galina and Helena, and then at Morgan and Halstead, clearly not placing any of them. Nor did he place Sonia.
But the concierge was at his elbow. “That is the woman, Comrade General,” he said.
Kagan looked at Sonia. “You will have to explain to me why you were asking after Comrade Ligachevna,” he said. “Would you like to do it now, or in our cells at the Lyubyanka. That is where you are going, Tatiana, together with your friends. Commissar Beria wishes to interrogate you, personally.”
Tatiana looked at Sonia.
“There is no necessity for that,” Sonia said. Kagan looked at her in astonishment, taken aback by her calm confidence. “What I have to tell you is far more important than anything Tatiana may have to say,” Sonia said.
“Then say it.”
“In front of your people? Are you sure you wish that?”
“Do you think I am going to lock myself up alone with you lot?” Kagan said contemptuously.
“Very well,” Sonia said. “I think you should know that Premier Stalin is dead.”
Again every head turned towards her. Even Kagan frowned. “How do you know this?”
“Because I was the last person to see him alive,” Sonia said.
“You!” Kagan cried. “The woman! Beria said you were a whore.” Anyone could see that Sonia Bolugayevska was not a whore.
“It was his plan that I should appear so. I am Sonia Bolugayevska.”
Kagan’s frown deepened, as he reached back into memory. “Trotsky’s woman?” He was incredulous. “And before that, the Princess of Bolugayen?” Now he looked at Priscilla.
“What she says is perfectly true,” Priscilla told him.
“Sonia Bolugayevska is dead!”
“Premier Stalin condemned me to death, Comrade General,” Sonia said. “But Comrade Beria thought it best to keep me alive, for use at a later date. As a spirit risen from the dead. This I have done, successfully.”
Kagan looked at his two men, and at the concierge. Then he looked at the people in the room. “You will admit this, openly? You will state this, to the Politburo? Even if it may cause your execution?”
“I will say it if you will guarantee the safety of my daughter, who is presently being held by Beria in Astrakhan. That is where I have been held since the end of the War.”
“Astrakhan,” Kagan breathed. A great many marbles were clearly dropping into place.
Tatiana decided it was time for her to intervene. “Aunt Sonia will only confess to the truth of this matter if her life too, is guaranteed. She has done nothing more than obey orders, and she did not actually kill the Premier.”
“It is a matter to be considered,” Kagan said.
“Then consider it now, and quickly. Because you may be sure that Beria is at this moment planning to take over the State. But Aunt Sonia will also refuse to say a word against him unless our safety is also guaranteed.”
“Your safety?” Kagan snorted. “You killed four of my men.”
“Who Beria sent to kill me. Did you know that, Comrade General?”
Kagan considered her for some seconds; she did not know of his involvement — yet. Then he asked, “Who are these people?”
“The Princess and Mr Morgan you know. The Schermetskas have nothing to do with any plot. I happened to use them as a refuge.”
“And him?” Kagan pointed at Halstead.
Halstead held his breath. His life, sacrificed, would also be a bargaining counter. “Comrade Romanowski is Atya Shulenskaya’s betrothed,” Tatiana said. Halstead slowly allowed his breath to escape. “Beria’s people killed Atya,” Tatiana said. “Comrade Romanowski seeks his revenge, like me. Then we wish to leave Russia.”
“Once Comrade Beria has been brought down,” Kagan said, “and that is not going to be a simple matter. Comrade Beria is seen by most of the Party as Stalin’s natural successor. He also has a formidable weapon at his disposal, as you and I know, Tatiana: the KGB. He must be proved to have plotted the death of the Premier before he can take steps to eliminate those who would give evidence against him.”
Sonia and Tatiana looked at each other; that included both of them. “If Madam Bolugayevska were to make a nationwide address on television and radio,” Priscilla suggested.
“Princess,” Kagan said, “this is Russia, not the United States. She would not survive as far as the studio. In any event, whatever is proved, it must be sufficient to sway a majority of the Politburo. Nothing else, including the opinion of the country as a whole, matters.”
“Then we’re done,” Halstead said.
“Not necessarily. I happen already to be in contact with a prominent member of the Politburo. All I have had to offer him so far are suppositions; now I have facts. But as I have said, it will take time.”
“During which you will protect us?” Prisc
illa asked.
“I cannot do that without arousing Beria’s suspicions.” Everyone in the room stiffened. “You will have to trust me,” Kagan said. “Madam Bolugayevska I will take into my own custody. The rest of you I am going to place under arrest, and take down to the Lyubyanka.”
“Are you crazy?!” Tatiana demanded. “Do you know what he will do to us? To me, anyway.”
“I said, trust me. I guarantee you your lives. All of your lives.”
“But nothing else.”
“I will do what I can for you,” Kagan said. “I will save your lives. And I will bring Beria down, as quickly as I can. You must trust me.” He gave a brief grin, and gestured at his men’s guns. “In any event, you have no choice.”
Tatiana gazed at him, as did everyone else. “Will you also promise me his execution?” Tatiana asked at last. “At my hands?”
“I guarantee that you will be his appointed executioner,” Kagan said. “I cannot guarantee that he will not commit suicide when he is confronted with the facts.”
“Well, then,” Tatiana said, “should he do so, you will have to give me his dead body.” She held out her wrists for the handcuffs.
*
Lavrenty Beria leaned back in his chair and smiled a great, happy grin. “All of them? Downstairs in the cells?”
“That is correct, Comrade Commissar.”
“List them.”
“Tatiana Gosykinya. The Princess Bolugayevska. The man Morgan, who was the third in Tatiana’s party; apparently, after taking the Princess from Gulag Number One, she took Morgan from Number Seventeen. Obviously this was all part of her conspiracy. Then there is a man named Romanowski, who was apparently the lover of the woman Shulenskaya. I am not sure yet what part he played, or was to play, in the conspiracy, but I will find out. And then there is Galina Shermetska, and her daughter, who were giving shelter to the conspirators.”
“And who were thus conspirators themselves,” Beria said.
“Oh, undoubtedly,” Kagan agreed. “They will all make full confessions, I promise you.”
“It must be done as quickly as possible,” Beria said. “And they must be executed, as quickly as possible.”
“Of course. Do you wish to interrogate any of them yourself?”
“Yes,” Beria said. “Oh, yes. But what about the woman? The one who was with the Premier when he died?”
“I am sure there is a mistake there, Comrade Commissar. Istomina says there was no one with the Premier when he died.”
“Well, before he died. Istomina cannot deny there was a woman. I want her found, Kagan. This is a most important matter.”
“We are searching for her, Comrade Commissar. But at the moment she appears to have disappeared into thin air. This is the trouble with whores. They can do this.”
“She is not a whore!” Beria shouted, and then bit his lip.
“But you said…” Kagan began.
“I described her as a whore. Yes. But she does not stand on street corners. She is a courtesan. That is what she is. She is an old courtesan. And she has nowhere to hide, in Moscow. She comes from out of town.”
“From Astrakhan,” Kagan suggested.
Beria glanced at him. “Yes,” he said. “She is from Astrakhan. Find her, Kagan.”
“And when I do?”
“I have told you what to do. I have no doubt at all that she is responsible for the Premier’s death. Execute her on the spot. I give you carte blanche. No questions. Just a bullet in the brain. Do you understand me?”
“Of course, Comrade Commissar. A bullet in the brain.” Kagan saluted and left the office, pausing to smile at Maria. The moment he was gone she scuttled into Beria’s office. “He knows.”
Beria looked up at her. “Knows what, now, Maria Feodorovna?”
“Ah…” she licked her lips.
“Maria Feodorovna,” Beria said. “You are becoming an hysteric, and that I will not have. Pull yourself together.”
“Yes, Comrade Commissar.” Anxiously she held her notebook in front of her. “There is to be a meeting of the Politburo to discuss the crisis this evening at six.”
Beria raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? Who ordered this?”
“Vice-Premier Malenkov. Do you wish me to cancel it?”
Beria shook his head. “No, no. There is a crisis. And Malenkov is Vice-Premier, so obviously he is temporarily in charge. However, there are certain steps we need to take.” He wrote out a series of orders, for the dispositioning of KGB troops in and around the capital, and more importantly, in and around the Kremlin. “We will, of course, proceed with the utmost legality,” he said. “But there is no harm in taking precautions, just in case others are prepared to act illegally, eh? Type those up, distribute them to the appropriate commanders, and then…how would you like to be amused for a couple of hours?”
“If…if that is what you wish me to do, Comrade Commissar.”
“Well, just type up those orders.” She left the room, and Beria leaned back in his chair, taking off his pince-nez to polish it. Never had a man had such a plum fall into his lap. He felt like shouting for joy. But that would be undignified. Well, then, he felt like drinking a magnum of champagne. But he still needed a clear head. Malenkov was entirely doing his duty by calling a meeting of the Politburo. Vacuums were always dangerous and political vacuums were more dangerous than any other. Russia needed a head of state.
Of course Malenkov would be dreaming of succeeding to that position himself; he had been Stalin’s deputy for some time now. But he had never been allowed to exercise any power, nor had he revealed any suggestion of the ability to exercise power. Kruschev, now, he was a different proposition. And Beria was well aware that Kruschev did not like him. But Kruschev had no broad power base, certainly in Moscow. He was a party boss, nothing more. He could not snap his fingers and summon a hundred thousand dedicated men and women to his support. Above all, neither Kruschev nor Malenkov had a Kagan. Kagan might be boorish and uncouth, but he was the ideal man to have standing at one’s shoulder when there were great issues at stake. So, time to do all the things he had wanted to do, for so long, and been prevented. “Are you ready?” he asked Maria.
“The orders are here, Comrade Commissar.” She was breathless. She also understood she was in the midst of great events.
“See that they are distributed to the regimental commanders,” he said. “Then you may join me in the interrogation block.” He took his private elevator into the underground section. “Take me to the prisoners General Kagan has just brought in,” he commanded the duty guard.
The gaoler scuttled in front of him along the dank corridors. “Number Seventy-One,” he said. “The man Morgan and the man Romanowski.”
Beria frowned. “Why are they together?”
“We are very crowded, Comrade Commissar. General Kagan said it would be all right, as these people would not be with us long.”
“Hm.” Beria snapped his fingers, and the gaoler opened the window. Beria looked in, at the two men, who sat side by side on the floor, their backs to the door. Their heads jerked at the sound of the window, but they did not turn. Beria snorted. Their naked bodies were unmarked; they must have surrendered without any attempt at resistance. But they did not interest him. “Next,” he commanded.
The gaoler shut the window, proceeded along the corridor. “Number Seventy-Seven. The woman Schermetska and the woman Bolugayevska.”
Beria’s frown returned. “Shermetska?”
“She lives in the apartment above that of the Criminal Ligachevna,” the gaoler explained.
“Schermetska,” Beria said thoughtfully, entries in his most secret files drifting through his memory. Another snap of the fingers, and he peered in at the women. His breathing quickened slightly as he saw the Princess, as beautiful as ever. She was a promise of what the future held. But the woman… “That is not the woman Schermetska,” he said. “The woman Schermetska is at least fifty. That woman is not yet thirty.”
�
�Ah,” said the gaoler. “You are thinking of the older Schermetska, Comrade Commissar. This is the daughter.”
“Then where is the older Schermetska?”
“In Number Eighty-One, Comrade Commissar. With the woman Gosykinya.” Once he had been Tatiana’s comrade.
Beria gave a shout of laughter. “Is that amusing, Comrade Commissar?” the gaoler asked.
“That is very amusing,” Beria told him. “Bring them out.” Vladimir unlocked the door. Helena started to her feet in terror; Priscilla merely turned her head. “Get up, Princess,” Beria said. She stared at him. She had, of course, never seen him before in her life. But she could guess who he was. “Come along,” he said. “It is time for you and me to have a little chat.”
She licked her lips. “Am I to be executed?”
“Perhaps. But not until I am ready. Come along. You too, Helena Schermetska. I have a treat for you.” The two women stepped into the corridor. Helena went first, after a push from Vladimir. Beria walked behind the Princess, twined his fingers in her hair. Her head jerked, and her breathing quickened, but she would not look round, even when Beria’s hand slipped down her back to squeeze her buttocks. “That is something I have wanted to do for a very long time,” he confided. “But there are other parts of you I am looking forward to squeezing even more.” Still she would not turn her head. “Show me Number Eighty-one,” Beria commanded.
They walked the few steps further, and the gaoler opened the window. Beria looked through, and licked his lips. There was nothing attractive about Galina, overweight and sagging. But Tatiana…he had enjoyed everything Tatiana had to offer, save the one thing he wanted most — to watch her writhe in agony and scream in despair. But that now was going to be his pleasure. “Open up,” he commanded.
The gaoler licked his lips. “Comrade Commissar, the woman Tatiana Gosykinya is very dangerous.”
Beria drew his revolver. “Open the door, Vladimir.” Cautiously Vladimir turned the key, pulled the door to. The women both turned, on their knees, and looked into the muzzle of Beria’s revolver, held at a safe distance as he was still in the corridor. Priscilla and Helena stood beside him, but their feeling of helplessness was increased by their nudity, and Helena would do nothing that might harm her mother. “Lie down,” Beria commanded. “On your faces!”
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