by Glenn Meade
• • •
It was pitch dark and freezing as the Emka rattled down the narrow cobbled roads of the old town. Like most small Russian cars, the Emka was pretty basic and had no heater, so Zinov wore a heavy sheepskin jacket to keep warm. He had suggested that Anna and Slanski sit together in the backseat and use the heavy woolen blanket he kept for passengers to cover their legs. When he turned left onto a narrow road that led toward one of the ancient granite towers, they all saw the checkpoint ahead.
A group of plainclothesmen and uniformed militia manned a temporary red barrier placed across the road between two oil barrels, just in front of the tower. There was a line of three vehicles in front, two delivery trucks and a private car, halted and waiting to be allowed to pass. The militiamen appeared to have finished searching the first truck, and it drove through when the barrier was removed.
Zinov eased on the brakes and pulled in behind the car in front. He tapped the steering wheel impatiently with his fingers. “Damn it. I suppose there’s not much we can do but wait our turn.” He looked back at Slanski and Anna as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Smoke, anyone? Crimean black. Guaranteed to leave you gasping.”
Slanski took one, but Anna declined. Slanski touched the flame of his match to Zinov’s cigarette, then looked back at Anna. Her mouth was tense with strain, and she stared back at him.
They all heard a vehicle rattle on cobbles. Slanski looked ahead and saw a green army Zis drive up to the checkpoint from the opposite direction. The car braked to a halt, and a man stepped out. He wore a black KGB uniform, an officer’s cap, a heavy black overcoat, and galoshes. Slanski noticed he wore only one leather glove on his left hand. The other hand looked stiff, and he guessed it was fake.
The KGB man crossed to a uniformed officer at the checkpoint and spoke heatedly with him. Moments later the officer turned and barked an order, and the militiamen manning the checkpoint started to work more smartly. Klieg lamps and arc lamps sprang to life, flooding the cobbled street. More militia appeared, as if some of them had been sleeping in the backs of their cars and had been shaken awake. The KGB officer had obviously made an impression, because the second truck was being searched more thoroughly. There was a bustle of activity, and the darkness came alive with stern orders and answering voices.
Slanski felt Anna’s hand grip his tightly as they watched the scene. He counted twelve militia and army personnel, plus the KGB man with the leather glove and his driver. Five agonizing minutes passed, and the truck showed no sign of being allowed through. Behind them, more vehicles had joined the queue.
Zinov finally slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “Curse it! At this rate we’ll be lucky to make Leningrad by midnight.”
Suddenly the truck was allowed through, and the car in front of them started to move up. It was searched just as thoroughly, the driver’s papers scrutinized, and the KGB man watched it all with interest as he leaned against a wall smoking a cigarette. Slanski gritted his teeth and felt a cold sweat break out all over his body. He quietly unbuttoned the flap of his Tokarev pistol and made sure the safety catch was off. He leaned across to Anna, sensing her growing fear. “Get ready to move if we have to run for it,” he whispered. “Try to make it back to the inn.”
Zinov glanced around suddenly. “You said something?”
Slanski smiled and said quickly, “Perhaps we should have taken the train, Colonel.”
“My apologies, this is ridiculous.”
“Not your fault.”
“True, but I think it’s time I had a word with the officer in charge. We can’t hang around all day, blast it, or we’ll both be late.”
But suddenly it was their turn as the car in front was waved through. The barrier came down again as Zinov advanced the Emka, halted, and rolled down his window. The flood from the arc lamps washed the car in a blinding pool of light, and a militiaman ran forward. “Right, get out of the car, and have your papers ready.”
Zinov flushed red at the militiaman’s bluntness. He flashed his ID. “You’re talking to a colonel in the KGB. Watch your manners.” He waved toward the barrier. “Allow us to pass, and be quick about it.”
The militiaman looked at Zinov’s ID and shook his head. “Everyone’s got to be checked and their vehicles searched. So just do as you’re told, and we’ll get this over with as quickly as possible.”
Zinov could hardly contain his anger at the man’s impertinence. “We’ll see about that! Who’s in charge here?”
“It won’t make any difference, comrade. His name’s Major Lukin, KGB Moscow. So in the meantime, step out of the car.”
Slanski and Anna tensed at the mention of the name, but Zinov seemed to lose his head completely. “Shut up, you insolent fool, and tell the officer in charge I want to see him. Now!”
The roar from Zinov made the militiaman jump. The man turned and raised a hand and signaled the KGB man, the one named Lukin, who had been watching the proceedings.
He strode over. “Is there a problem?”
“Look here, Lukin, or whatever your name is,” said Zinov. “You’re talking to a colonel in the KGB, and my friends and I are in a hurry. We’ve got important business in Leningrad.”
“I’m afraid no one passes without being checked and searched.”
“On whose authority?”
Lukin produced his ID and held it out for Zinov to inspect. “On mine. There is a search in progress for enemy agents.”
Zinov examined Lukin’s ID and said, “That’s all very well, but as you can appreciate, you’re delaying us.”
“I’m delaying everyone, Colonel, but I’m sure you realize I have a job to do. Now, would you all please step out of the car and have your papers ready?”
Zinov grimaced, then stepped out and slammed the door after him. The militiaman examined his papers first while two men moved to search the car. Slanski and Anna slid out from the rear as Lukin’s eyes showed a sudden interest. He stepped forward. “Papers, please, Captain.”
Slanski handed them across. For a long time the major looked at Slanski’s face, then examined the papers before he looked up and asked, “And who is this lady?”
“My wife, Comrade Major. We’ve been staying in Tallinn on a short visit.”
“And the purpose of your visit to Tallinn, Captain Petrovsky?”
Slanski smiled and nodded at Anna. “Our honeymoon, comrade.”
“Where were you staying?”
“With a relative of my wife’s in the old town. Is there a problem, Comrade Major?”
Lukin studied Slanski’s face. “Indeed there is. We’re looking for a man and a woman, enemy agents who parachuted into Estonia the night before last. As it happens, our information suggests they’re about the ages of you and your wife here.” He looked at Anna. “So you say this lady is your wife?”
Slanski said proudly, “Indeed she is, comrade. We were married three days ago.” He smiled. “And I can assure you, Major, she’s not an enemy agent.”
There was a laugh from one of the militiamen standing nearby, but Lukin’s expression didn’t change. He said evenly, “My congratulations to both of you. May I see your papers also, madam?”
“Of course.” Anna fumbled in her handbag and handed them over.
Lukin examined the documents thoroughly, flashing his light on the paper, feeling it, rubbing his thumb against the page. He didn’t hand them back to Anna but looked at Slanski, then examined his papers again, doing the same. “Your destination, Captain Petrovsky?”
“Leningrad.”
“For what purpose?”
“To rejoin my division.”
“And which division is that?”
“The 14th Armored. There are winter maneuvers imminent at Novgorod, and I’m afraid I have to rejoin.”
The major glanced at Slanski’s 14th Armored uniform flashes. “Would you mind if we searched your luggage?”
Slanski shrugged. “Of course not, Major.”
Lukin snapped his fing
ers, and a militiaman appeared. “Remove the captain’s luggage, and search it thoroughly. His wife’s also.” He looked at Slanski again as suddenly two militiamen came forward with their Tokarev machine pistols at the ready, as if sensing trouble.
Zinov came over and interrupted. “Look, Major, is that really necessary? We’re in a hurry. This officer is known personally to me. And also the young lady. I happen to stay frequently with her uncle here in Tallinn.”
“Quite. And I’m sure you are in a hurry. But so are we all. This won’t take long.”
Zinov again flushed angrily. The militiaman removed all the bags, and Lukin said to Slanski, “Please indicate your luggage.” Slanski pointed out their two suitcases. Lukin examined both suitcases externally first, very carefully, running his fingers along the joins. Slanski felt sweat on the back of his neck and tried to judge how many shots he could get off rapidly, deciding there and then to shoot Lukin first.
The major looked up. “Open the cases, please, Captain.” Slanski did as he was ordered. Lukin knelt and flashed a light through the belongings. He examined the clothes’ labels and felt the material of each garment. Finally he stood up and studied Slanski again. There was a look of indecision on the major’s face, indicating something was bothering him. “You look familiar, Captain. Have we met before?”
“I can’t say we have, Major.”
“Did you serve during the war?”
“With the Fifth Kursk.”
“Infantry?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Really? You knew Colonel Kinyatin?”
Slanski pretended to think for a moment, then shook his head. “I was only with the Kursk for three months before I was transferred. I’m afraid I never heard of the man.”
Zinov shivered from the cold and said again, “Really, Major, the poor fellow and his wife have had their honeymoon plans upset as it is. You can see he’s a genuine officer. Are you going to make a fool of yourself and arrest him, or are we all to just stand here and freeze to death?”
The major gave Zinov a withering stare, then looked at Anna and Slanski again, as if still unable to make up his mind. “A question, Captain. What’s your wife’s month of birth?”
“Sir?”
“Her month of birth. A simple question.”
Slanski smiled faintly. “July. A man could hardly forget that, especially being just married, sir.”
“You seem a little old to be just getting married, Captain.”
“Sir?”
“Is this your first marriage?”
Slanski shook his head and looked as if he was suitably hurt. “No, sir. My first wife died in the war. Really, sir, is this all necessary?”
Lukin hesitated for a long time, then slowly handed back the two sets of papers. “My apologies for the delay. You may proceed. Have a pleasant trip, Captain. You, too, madam. And you, Colonel.”
“About time, too,” said Zinov, puffing a breath of steaming air.
They all climbed back into the car. As Slanski slid in beside Anna in the back and threw the woolen blanket over their legs, he felt her hand reach for his and grip it tightly, her fingers digging painfully into his flesh. He felt her shaking, and there was sweat dripping inside his own shirt despite the cold, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.
As the Emka moved off and rattled over the cobbles, Zinov was muttering to himself in the front. “Those Moscow types think they run the whole show.” He growled venomously, “And don’t you worry, Major Lukin, you puffed-up little nobody. I’ll see to you when I get to Leningrad. You’ve not got an ounce of respect for senior rank.”
As Zinov railed on, Slanski glanced back through the rear window. The KGB major stood staring after the car, a look of uncertainty clouding his face. Slanski turned back. The major had been clever, asking harmless questions, but questions that could have told him a lot. Somehow, by the look on his face, Slanski could see he was still not completely convinced. Slanski tensed and shivered as the Emka rounded the next corner.
Anna whispered in the darkness of the cab, “What’s wrong?”
“I think someone just walked over my grave.”
• • •
It was just before nine when Lukin returned to the Tondy barracks. Kaman was waiting with a sheaf of papers. He looked exhausted. “Some more reports for you, Major. Still no sign of the man and woman, I’m afraid.” He placed the papers on the table. “You think at this stage we’re wasting our time?”
Lukin fixed him with a stare. “On the contrary. I want the operation continued and expanded.”
Kaman sighed. “Has the major considered that these people could have been killed when they parachuted into Estonia? Parachutes sometimes fail. Perhaps we should be searching the countryside for bodies.”
“One death from an unopened parachute I can accept, but not two. The order stands. Widen the net to include up to ten miles beyond the town center. Every house, inn, and shop in the town is to be thoroughly searched.”
“But that will take days!”
“You have twelve hours.”
“Major, what you’re proposing will include a quarter of the population of Estonia!”
Lukin rounded angrily. “I don’t care a whit. Just do it. And quickly, man!”
“Yes, Major.” Kaman saluted and left, closing the door.
Lukin ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. He had been harsh with the captain—the man looked as tired as he was himself—but too much was at stake. The roadblocks and checkpoints and the checking of the hotel registers should have yielded something.
But nothing. Not even a suggestion that the man and woman were in Tallinn.
They were somewhere out there. It was ridiculous. With so many checkpoints something should have turned up by now.
He thought of the captain and his young wife at the East Tower. Something odd about him he couldn’t quite figure. He was sure he had seen the man’s face somewhere before. The remark had been no ploy, like some of the other questions. But where had he seen him?
The captain’s wife was attractive but hardly beautiful. Her makeup had spoiled her face. A little too heavy. Maybe it was deliberate? The man had said they were on their honeymoon. She should have been happy. She just looked anxious. Or was it his imagination?
But the man had shown no sign of fear, just bemusement. Lukin had found it hard to decide about him. The question he had asked about his wife’s birthday had influenced his decision, but only just. He had once caught a couple of German agents in Kiev who had been traveling as man and wife. A husband always remembered his wife’s birthday, and the German had faltered too long, then finally made a run for it before he was caught. But the captain that morning had known.
Still, the couple was borderline, and he should have checked their story. The colonel’s statement that he knew his passengers personally had swung it in their favor.
But what really bothered Lukin still was the man’s face. Something about him seemed oddly familiar. But Lukin was too troubled, too stressed, and memory worked best when the mind was at peace, not tired and in turmoil. It would come to him eventually, but right now, even though he racked his brain, it was a total blank.
Lukin picked up the photographs of the woman and the man known as the Wolf. He looked down at them for a long time. The Wolf’s picture was really too blurred to be useful and had been taken from too great a distance. Another thing kept bothering Lukin—the fact that there were two pages missing from the man’s file. Perhaps Beria had his reasons for withholding the pages, but Lukin felt somehow less than trusted. It was as if his path were being made deliberately more difficult. Pasha was right. It was usual that an investigator be given access to all information concerning a case.
The photograph of the woman showed her with no makeup, her hair cropped short, and her face gaunt. There were obvious dark circles under her eyes from stress or lack of sleep, or both. Lukin tried to imagine what she would look like with more flesh on her cheekbones and her hair l
onger and wearing makeup. Impossible, really. A woman could completely change her appearance with cleverly applied makeup. Still, instinct told him something wasn’t right. And the checkpoints had turned up no other likely suspects.
He picked up the phone and quickly dialed Kaman’s extension. “Lukin here. I want a Captain Oleg Petrovsky checked out immediately. See if he’s with the 14th Armored at Leningrad. Get onto his commanding officer or whoever’s next in line. I want details from his personal file. Background, marriage, and so on. And verify if the division is planning winter maneuvers at Novgorod. Have them call me.”
Kaman said, “Who is he?”
“Never mind that for now, just do it. And phone the local air force commander and have a helicopter stand by in case I need it. If he quibbles, put him onto me. And find out where a KGB colonel named Zinov was staying in Tallinn.”
Lukin replaced the phone. There was still plenty of time to stop the Emka before it reached Leningrad. The drive took five hours, so that left Lukin the best part of three. He checked his watch. Nine a.m. With luck, the information should be back from the Leningrad Divisional Headquarters within ten minutes.
* * *
PART SIX
* * *
FEBRUARY 27, 1953
9:15 A.M.–6:30 P.M.
32
* * *
ESTONIA
FEBRUARY 27
They took the main highway to Kiviõli, then, once past the town, followed the coast road for Leningrad. Brightly painted fishing boats lay rotting on the shoreline, abandoned nets like giant spiderwebs. The skies were clear but off to the west a mass of threatening snow clouds hovered above the frozen Baltic.
It was more than two hundred miles to Leningrad, five hours at least on the highway, but once they left Kiviõli the roads were clogged with military traffic. A long column of tanks and trucks trailed jets of muddy slush in their wake as they moved westward, and Zinov had to drive slowly until they reached the coast. “Good to see Stalin still likes to let the Balts know that we’re in business,” commented Zinov. “Smoke, anyone?”