by Glenn Meade
“Slanski would never let himself be taken alive.”
“You can’t guarantee that, Massey. No one can. It’s aces wild right now. The fact is, Moscow’s probably already on his tail, and that ain’t good. That’s why we’ve got to stop this thing before it gets out of hand. That’s why I want to know exactly how this plan of yours works and how you intended to get them to Moscow. I want names and safe houses and routes. Every last detail. I want answers and I want them fast. Because sure as heck, old buddy, we’re going to abort this mission, no matter what it takes.”
Branigan stared into Massey’s troubled face. “I think you’d better talk, Jake, and talk fast. Before it’s too late for all of us.”
TALLINN
The two KGB officers were already seated in the dining room when Slanski and Anna came down to breakfast the next morning. Both stood up politely when they saw Anna enter the room, their eyes red from a late night and too much alcohol.
The older of the two was middle-aged with a ruddy face, a large stomach, and bushy mustache. He had a cheerful gleam in his eye, and he introduced himself as Colonel Zinov.
The second man was a boyish-looking captain. His eyes took in Anna’s body as he offered his hand. “Captain Bukarin at your service, madam.” He smiled amiably. “Your uncle just told us about your arrival. This must be your husband.” He shook Slanski’s hand, and then it was the colonel’s turn.
“Pleasure to meet you both. You chose a bad time coming to Tallinn in winter, but I do hope your honeymoon will be pleasant. Will you be staying long?”
“A couple of days, just enough time to visit relatives and see the old town,” Slanski replied.
The captain smiled at Anna. “Perhaps you’d both care to join us for drinks tonight?”
“I’m afraid we already made plans, but thank you for the offer.”
Bukarin smiled charmingly and clicked his heels. “Of course. Another time, perhaps. Enjoy your breakfast.”
Breakfast was more thick slices of fatty meat and chunks of goat’s cheese and another plateful of oily fish, but there were fresh white bread and butter. When Slanski led Anna to a table by the window he noticed she was pale. As they sat, he whispered, “What’s the matter?”
“The way those two looked at me made me feel uneasy. Do you think they suspect anything?”
Slanski touched her arm and smiled. “No, I’d say they just both have an eye for the ladies. Try to relax. We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon, so cheer up.”
Beyond the window the sky was clear and blue. On the cobbled square outside there seemed to be some kind of market going on, groups of countrymen in cloth caps standing around examining horses.
Gorev came in moments later carrying jugs of steaming tea and coffee. He chatted with the two officers a moment before they finished their breakfast and left the room. He came over. “Looks like you both passed with flying colors.” He winked at Anna. “And the young one, Bukarin, has definitely taken a fancy to you, I can see that.”
“I’m supposed to be a married woman.”
“That hasn’t stopped either of them before.”
Slanski stood up and went to the window. Horses’ hooves clattered on cobblestone and the square was crowding with people. “What’s happening outside?”
“Horse market day,” said Gorev. “The horseflesh dealers meet here every month.”
An Emka was parked outside and moments later they heard heavy footsteps in the hallway and the sound of a door opening; then the two officers stepped into the car before it rattled off noisily over the cobbles, leaving upset horses and dealers in their wake.
Slanski asked, “Where have your guests gone?”
Gorev poured coffee and said scornfully, “Off to pick up their girlfriends for more drinking and carousing. The swine even had me make them up a picnic. I hope it kills them.”
When Gorev fell silent, Slanski said, “What’s the matter?”
Gorev wiped his hands anxiously on his apron. “It may be nothing important, but one of the deliverymen who came this morning, he said there were plainclothes militia at the railway station, checking papers. They seemed quite thorough. But what struck him as odd was that they were checking both men and women.”
“What’s odd about that?”
Gorev tugged at his beard. “Usually the militia are in uniform when they’re at the station and trying to catch army deserters. And this time they seemed to be paying as much attention to the women. I’ll have to contact Erik and ask him to find out what’s happening, but it may take a couple of hours. In the meantime, I suggest you remain here at the inn.”
Slanski came back from the window and finished his coffee. He looked at Anna. “I don’t know about you, but I need some air.”
Anna looked at Gorev, who shrugged. “Personally, I would prefer it if you both waited until I hear from Erik. Who knows? There may be trouble.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“That’s anybody’s guess. But if there’s a lot of militia about, you can be sure something’s up, and it may be unwise to tempt your luck.”
Slanski produced his wallet and examined his papers and food coupons. “Maybe now is our chance to see if our papers stand up to the test. I’d say it’s as good a time as any.” He smiled over at Anna. “What do you say?”
“Toomas may be right. Perhaps it would be safer to stay here. But if you think we should . . .?”
Slanski grinned. “You’re playing the compliant wife. Leaving the decisions to your husband.”
“Then let’s just hope, my darling husband, that it’s the right one.”
Slanski put away his wallet and saw the worried look on Gorev’s face. “Don’t fret, we’ll be back before you know it. You have a map of the town?”
Gorev wiped his hands nervously on his apron. “In the back room. But I hope you’re doing the right thing. And if you must go out, an hour, no more. Otherwise I’ll start to worry.”
• • •
Lukin came awake a little after eight, his head aching and his mouth dry. He had slept for only three hours, and in the mirror he saw dark shadows under his eyes. When he had shaved, an orderly brought him a tray with a samovar of tea. It tasted vile, but he drank it thirstily and ignored the single slice of burned toast on the plate. Five minutes later as he dressed there was a knock on the door and Kaman entered.
“Sorry to disturb you, Major. Some news just came in.”
Lukin picked up his false hand lying beside him on the bed and began to strap it on. He saw the captain wince at the sight of the mangled stump. “What’s the matter? Haven’t you seen a war wound before?”
Kaman blushed. “It just occurred to me, how do you manage to shave?”
“With great difficulty. Your report, Kaman.”
“The foot patrol managed to get within twenty yards of the wreckage sites. One’s definitely the missing MiG.”
“And the other aircraft?”
“A light plane, make unknown, but definitely not one of ours.”
“Any bodies?”
“Two. The MiG pilot and the other pilot in the light aircraft. The patrol couldn’t get close enough to remove the corpses, and apparently there wasn’t much left of either of them. Both appeared burned beyond recognition.”
Lukin crossed to the wall map. “They’re not going to be much help to us anyway. Have the checkpoints turned up anything yet?”
“Nothing except a half dozen deserters and a black marketeer. One of the deserters was shot and wounded trying to escape.”
“Excellent. At least we’ve done some good for the state. Tell me, do you think the Estonian resistance might be helping our quarry?”
“It’s possible, but they usually confine themselves to the forests, and the nearest group we know of is over sixty miles east of here.”
Lukin crossed to the window and looked down at the barrack square. A couple of dozen soldiers marched by smartly in double file, and it was still dark outside. He said without
turning back, “Have you ever read Turgenev, Captain?”
Kaman shrugged. “I come from a simple farming background, Comrade Major. Reading books wasn’t half as important as milking cows.”
Lukin smiled. “Nevertheless, Turgenev made an interesting observation. He used to say that when you’re searching for something, don’t forget to look behind your ears as well.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If you wanted to hide a couple of enemy agents in Tallinn, where would you put them?”
Kaman scratched his chin. “Lots of places. Parts of the old town go back to the fourteenth century, and the place is like a rabbit warren. Underground vaults and passageways from the days of pirate smuggling. I’m sure there are cellars and tunnels we don’t even know about.”
“My point exactly.” Lukin thought a moment. “And the outskirts of the town?”
Kaman hesitated, then shook his head. “Too few people. And country folk would spot a stranger a mile off.” He smiled. “In that part of the world, people would talk if you part your hair on the wrong side. Besides, half the population of Estonia are Russian plants. They’d be quick to inform the militia of suspicious strangers.”
Lukin nodded. “Very well, forget about the rural areas for the moment.” He pointed to the city map. “Concentrate on the city and the old town. For now I want checkpoints and roadblocks here, on all the main roads, and the old entrance gates of the citadel. Maintain radio links to the barracks, and inform KGB Headquarters on Pikk Street of our intention. These agents could have landed anywhere within a twenty-mile radius, but my guess is they’ll try to hide where a new face doesn’t look amiss. Anyone fitting the ages or descriptions is to be stopped and their papers checked thoroughly. And I mean thoroughly.”
“Yes, Comrade Major.”
Lukin dragged on his tunic. “Arrange an Emka and driver. And a mobile radio and maps. I’ll be inspecting the checkpoints personally at intervals.”
“As you wish, sir.” Kaman snapped to attention.
As the captain turned to leave, Lukin looked down at the tea and burned toast. “And Kaman, a decent breakfast might be in order. You can’t expect a grown man to get through the morning on this.”
Kaman blushed. “I’ll have the cook see to it at once.”
• • •
The ancient citadel of Tallinn had once been part of the old Hanseatic League, an ancient port and trading fortress and home to prosperous merchants and craftsmen, until the Russian tsar had invited himself in and turned it into a colony. Then Stalin, then the Germans, then Stalin again. Despite a long history of invaders, it looked as if time had not touched the narrow medieval cobbled streets. Sunlight splashed on yellow and blue pastel walls, and all around were oak-beamed inns and houses and gilded onion–domed churches.
As they walked along Pikk Street, the main avenue that cut through the length of the town, Slanski looked in the drab shop windows.
In a butcher’s premises a single scrawny carcass of beef hung from a solitary hook. In another shop window, a bored woman arranged a couple of pairs of cheap rubber shoes. Slanski decided to try his coupons, and when he bought a bottle of vodka and some bread and cheese in a shop off Pikk Street the girl behind the counter took his coupon and money without batting an eye.
As they walked onto Lossi Square, dozens of attractive girls sat around on the park benches, their legs crossed, smiling at passing uniformed sailors from the Soviet Baltic Fleet. Slanski noticed there were numbers chalked on the soles of the girls’ shoes.
“The girls are prostitutes from Moscow, here for the sailors,” Anna explained. “Prostitution is against the law and a Gulag offense, but the militia can’t arrest the girls until they catch them soliciting by asking a price. So the girls write their fee on their shoes, and they’re not breaking the law.”
“All very civilized and clever. You think they’d take coupons?”
Anna laughed. “Slanski, you’re crazy.”
“The name’s Bodkin, remember.”
“And it suits you in those trousers.”
They came to a park on a hill at the top of the town, with a view down to the sea. Despite the clear blue skies the air was freezing cold. Behind the park was some kind of large official residence, two soldiers in uniform on guard duty outside. The park was empty except for a couple of elderly ladies walking their dogs and a strolling soldier and his girlfriend.
They found a bench, and Slanski handed Anna some bread and cheese. He uncorked the vodka, sipped, and handed the bottle to her. “Here, put a little sunshine in your heart.”
She took a sip. Slanski was watching her face and said, “Stalingrad. Tell me about it.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“No reason. Just curious.”
She looked out at the park. “It was terrible. The savagery. The house-to-house fighting. The endless days and nights without sleep. The intense cold. And always wondering if you were going to have enough to eat that day, or if you were going to die. The shelling was the worst. The noise went on for months, day and night. It got so bad even the dogs would drown themselves in the Volga—they couldn’t take any more.” She hesitated. “But it taught me how to survive. After Stalingrad, nothing could really frighten me.”
Slanski said quietly, “What do you believe in, Anna?”
She shook her head. “I think I stopped believing in everything the day they took my daughter away.”
“You never told me how Massey intends getting her out.”
“The same way he intends getting me out, whatever way that is. Just as soon as he finds out what orphanage she’s in. Stalin’s made so many orphans and there are so many orphanages in Moscow, Jake said it’s going to take time to find Sasha. Some of the children are given new names, to make them forget their backgrounds and their parents. But he promised me he won’t fail.”
She paused. “And you, what do you believe in?”
Slanski took her in and smiled faintly, and Anna said straight-faced, “Besides that. If you don’t believe in anything, then what would please you?”
He thought for a long time. His face looked more serious. “What would please me? To be able to walk in my father’s garden again. To smell the scent of apple trees and cherry blossoms. To be with my parents and brother and sister once more.”
“You’re such a strange man, Alex.”
“In what way?”
“You’re a killer. And yet you talk of the scent of apple trees and gardens. Or maybe you’re just a typical Russian. Sentimental when you drink vodka for a memory that can never be recaptured.”
He laughed and said, “Or maybe I’m just trusting you enough to let you get close.”
Anna saw something vulnerable in his eyes then, and as he offered her the bottle she shook her head. “I think I’ve had enough. Any more and you’ll have to carry me back.”
When he looked away over the town she studied his face. The words he had spoken had obviously affected him. There were no tears, but there was a tightening around his mouth and a distant look in his eyes, as if what he had said of his past had been painful to remember.
She wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck and stood. “I think it’s time we were getting back. Gorev will be worried.”
Slanski looked up. “Anna.”
“What?”
“Do you have any regrets about what happened last night?”
She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No.” She reached out and gently brushed his lips with her finger. “It’s been a long time since someone put his arms around me. A long time since I felt so secure and safe and wanted.”
“And did you want me?”
“Maybe I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you. Only I didn’t want to admit it.” She smiled. “Women can be like that, you know. It’s a kind of foolish pride.”
Alex stood and kissed her. “So, do you really think I’m crazy?”
There was a kind of childish innocence to the q
uestion that suddenly made her feel very tender toward him. She smiled faintly. “Perhaps just a little. But then all of us Russians are.”
31
* * *
Gorev, his face pale, looked from Slanski to Anna as they sat in their bedroom. The innkeeper had ushered them upstairs as soon as they returned. “Bad news. I had a visit from the local militia sergeant.”
Slanski said worriedly, “What did he want?”
“To see the inn’s guest register. Luckily I hadn’t written in your names. When he saw the ranks of the two KGB officers in the register he left. We’re in the clear for now, but it doesn’t look good.” Gorev wiped his hands anxiously on his grimy smock. “According to Erik, the army and militia are setting up roadblocks everywhere. They’re watching the bus and railway stations and the airport with great interest. It seems almost everyone’s papers are being checked. Apparently, some KGB major arrived here from Moscow last night to take charge of the operation. His name’s Lukin, and barrack rumor has it he’s working directly for Beria. Erik says he’s got everyone on his toes. The militia shot one man already at the railway station. A deserter, unlucky soul.”
“Did Erik know exactly why this Major Lukin was in Tallinn?”
“That’s the really rich part. Erik heard he’s looking for two agents who parachuted in last night. Apparently, a MiG disappeared and crashed off the coast. A foot patrol was sent out onto the Baltic ice last night. This morning they found the wreckage and another of a light aircraft that had crashed midair into the MiG. No doubt it was the aircraft that dropped you. That explains why the army and militia are swarming all over Tallinn like flies on dung.”
A muscle twitched in Slanski’s jaw. He looked at Anna. There was a shocked look on her face. He turned back to Gorev. “But how could this Lukin have known about us?”
“Search me. Maybe some yokel found your buried parachutes. But he does, and that spells trouble for all of us.”
Slanski saw Anna’s face pale.
Gorev said quickly, “My intention was to put you on the train for Leningrad, but that’s out of the question now with the station being watched. Even the buses are being stopped and checked, and the airport is definitely out. Security will be too tight.”