Snow Wolf

by Glenn Meade

  Nicolai turned even paler and looked at Lebel in alarm. “You’re a lying swine. You said I had nothing to worry about.”

  “You don’t as long as you do as you’re told,” Slanski said. “One of the passengers is an agent of ours we want transported to the West. You leave her behind, and I personally guarantee you’ll be up against a wall and shot before morning.”

  Nicolai’s face drained completely of color as he looked helplessly at Lebel. Lebel said, “It’s true, I’m afraid.”

  “Then tell me exactly what’s going on.”

  Slanski said, “That’s a matter of state security and none of your business. You’ll proceed as normal with the transport and give no indication, as usual, of your hidden cargo. Fail us, and you’ll suffer the consequences. You think you can do that?”

  Nicolai sighed. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  Slanski turned and crossed the platform smartly toward the others.

  Lebel said, “Relax, Nicolai. Look on the bright side.”

  “Which is?”

  “Now you’re working for the KGB.”

  • • •

  Slanski stood on the platform, Lebel beside him as they watched Nicolai slide open the door of one of the freight trucks. He stepped inside carrying a steel crowbar and a bag of tools. Lebel said, “It shouldn’t take him long to loosen the floorboards. He’s already vented the wood so they won’t suffocate. Your friends will be able to come out once we have a clear run to the border, but they’ll have to go back in hiding before we cross the checkpoint. That is, assuming we make it that far.”

  “Give me a cigarette.”

  Lebel handed Slanski a cigarette and looked over at the group huddled on the platform beside the open carriage. Lukin was embracing his wife, and Lebel saw that the woman was crying. Next to them Anna Khorev was holding her daughter tightly in her arms as Irena fussed over the child. Lebel said, “Your lady friend I know about, but who’s the little girl?”

  Slanski struck a match against one of the station pillars and lit his cigarette. “Her daughter. The child was in a KGB orphanage. Major Lukin just forged Beria’s signature to release her.”

  Lebel said palely, “This just gets more frightening by the minute.”

  “After what happened tonight it’s hardly going to matter much.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right.”

  “You did the favor I asked?”

  Lebel took a set of car keys from his pocket and handed them to Slanski. “All I could manage was a blue Emka van. One of my contacts from the Trade Ministry who owed me a favor left it parked and waiting where you said. He won’t report it stolen until tomorrow morning.”

  “Thanks. What about the train? Can you manage that, too?”

  “Slightly more risky. We halt at a station named Klin, an hour out from Moscow, to hook on a cargo of coal for Helsinki. That shouldn’t take more than an hour. Nicolai ought to be able to stretch it to two taking on water for the engine and attending to some imaginary repairs, but he won’t be able to delay much longer than that. Otherwise, the railway authorities may get suspicious. So if you’re going to join us, I suggest you don’t delay.”

  “Try to stretch the stop out as long as you can.”

  Lebel said glumly, “I think we’ve stretched matters quite far enough as it is, don’t you?”

  Slanski tossed away his cigarette. “Cheer up, Henri. You’re still breathing. It could be a lot worse.”

  “After this, I’ll never see Moscow again. Not that I ever want to. I suppose there’s some compensation if Irena is free, if we live long enough to enjoy it. Do you really think we’ll still make it to Helsinki?”

  “It’s a chance worth taking when you consider the alternative.”

  Lebel frowned. “May I be permitted an observation? After four years in the French resistance, a man gets to know when he’s being sold a stinker. And something definitely stinks about this whole arrangement. I suppose it’s no use asking what’s really going on between you and Lukin?”

  “No use at all.”

  Lebel shrugged. “It seems you have a farewell in store, my friend. I’d better see what’s keeping Nicolai.” As Anna handed her daughter to Irena and came toward them, Lebel shuffled toward the train.

  Then Anna’s arms were around Slanski’s neck, and she pulled him to her tightly. “What Lukin did, I don’t know how to thank him.”

  “Look after his wife. That’ll be thanks enough.”

  She looked into his face. “You and Lukin aren’t really going to join us later, are you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  She studied him, her eyes wet. “That’s a lie, Alex, and you know it. Please . . .it’s not too late to change your mind.”

  “Far too late, I’m afraid.”

  And then her lips were on his, and he heard her sobbing. Finally he broke away. He looked at her face, then his hand brushed against her cheek. “Take care, Anna Khorev. I wish you a long life and happiness with Sasha.”

  “Alex, please! Come with us!”

  The train suddenly whistled, and Lebel appeared and said, “Another minute and I’ll be in tears myself. Nicolai’s ready to go. Let’s move, my friends, this isn’t the Gare du Nord.”

  The steam engine seemed to burst into life, gave another shrieking whistle, and Slanski took Anna’s hand and pulled her toward the train. Lukin helped Lebel up beside the driver, then got the others on board. A final look passed between them all: Slanski and Anna, Lukin and Nadia, and then Irena slid the carriage door and bolted it shut.

  Lebel gave a wave from the engine. “So long, comrades. With luck, maybe we’ll all live to crack a bottle of champagne in Helsinki.”

  Slanski saw a terrible look of anguish on Lukin’s face as he stared grimly at the carriage, and then the train whistled again and started to move. Lukin touched the carriage door with his hand as it pulled away from the platform, and then the engine picked up speed and the carriage slid away. Slanski said, “You said your goodbye?”

  “As best I could under the circumstances.”

  “How did Nadia take it?”

  Lukin said grimly, “I don’t think she believed me when I told her I’d see her again. But she knows what she’s doing is for the best. And for our child. On my way to pick up Anna’s daughter I called at the Leningrad Station. I showed Beria’s letter to the duty official in charge of the railway lines to Helsinki and told him to keep the lines clear for Lebel’s train. Under no circumstances was it to be deliberately stopped or delayed, otherwise he’d face Beria’s wrath and a firing squad. Let’s hope he does what I tell him. All we can do is hope by some miracle they all survive.” He looked around, agony in his face. “A terrible world we live in, brother, but there you have it. And Anna—something passed between you and her, didn’t it?”

  Slanski shrugged. “Another time, another place, and under different circumstances, who knows what might have come of it? But too late now.” He paused, then there was a hint of remorse in his voice. “But it’s still not too late for you to change your mind.”

  Lukin shook his head. “This is for Katya. For our parents. For us.” Slanski touched his arm. “We’d better go. There isn’t much time.”

  • • •

  It was still snowing as Lukin pulled up across the street from the side entrance to KGB Headquarters. As he switched off the engine he turned to Slanski and said, “Give me fifteen minutes. If I haven’t shown up by then get away from here as fast as you can. Ditch the car, and go to the nearest Metro. After that I’m afraid you’ll have to make your own way to Kuntsevo, as you planned.”

  Slanski nodded toward the KGB building. “You’ll be taking a risk going in there. Is it really necessary?”

  “I need to know if Pasha’s safe. I want him to leave Moscow; otherwise after everything we’ve done is discovered he’ll be guilty by association and doubtless he’ll be shot. There’s a train leaving for the Urals in less than two hours, and I want him o
n it with a false set of papers. They’ll never find him among his own people.”

  Lukin looked at the building. The double oak doors were open, and another glass door led to a hallway beyond. The lights were on, and the uniformed guard on duty sat behind a desk in the hall. “Besides, you’re going to need a KGB uniform for what we’re planning to do. There’s also an important phone call to make, remember?”

  Slanski nodded. “Good luck.”

  Lukin climbed out of the car, crossed the street, and went in through the side doors. Slanski watched the guard check his papers before Lukin stepped into an elevator in the hall and was gone. As Slanski sat in the car he reached anxiously for a cigarette and lit one, then glanced at the dead body lying on the backseat.

  Jake Massey’s lifeless eyes stared back at him.

  • • •

  The fourth floor was empty, and the office was in darkness. Lukin stepped into the room and closed the door. He flicked on the light switch. The room flooded with light, and he heard the voice at once and turned. “Welcome back, Lukin. So kind of you to join us.”

  Romulka stood by the window, a Tokarev in his hand. Two hard-faced plainclothes KGB men stood in front of Pasha’s desk. They held rubber truncheons. Pasha was tied down in a chair with leather straps binding his arms and legs, his face bloated and bloodied almost beyond recognition. One of the men had his hand over his mouth, and as he released it Pasha gurgled with pain and his swollen eyes rolled in their sockets.

  Lukin’s heart sank. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  Romulka stepped forward. “Don’t mess with me, Lukin; it’s far too late for that. Remove your pistol, and place it on the desk. Nice and easy. Or I’ll be tempted to take your head off before Comrade Beria has the pleasure of dealing with you.”

  Lukin removed his Tokarev and placed it on the desk. Romulka crooked a finger. “Come closer, away from the door.”

  As Lukin stepped forward, Romulka slammed his fist into his jaw. Lukin fell back against the wall, but Romulka moved in smartly and jerked his knee viciously into Lukin’s stomach. As he slid to the floor, Romulka stood over him, his hands on his hips. “I can’t understand it, Lukin. I credited you with some brains. Did you really expect to get away with what you did tonight? Preventing me from catching the American? Releasing the woman and taking the child from the orphanage? You must think I’m a fool.”

  A trickle of blood ran down Lukin’s chin. “No, just a callous, brutal thug.”

  Romulka lashed out with his boot, and it smashed into Lukin’s thigh. “Get up, traitor!”

  When Lukin didn’t move, Romulka yanked him savagely by the hair and hauled him into a chair. He stared into his face. “You know what I don’t understand, Lukin? Motive. But there must be an explanation. There always is. And you’re going to give it to me.” He replaced the pistol in his holster, and the riding crop appeared. Without warning it swished through the air and struck Lukin a stinging blow across the face.

  As he jerked back in pain, Romulka grabbed him by the hair again. “A small debt repaid. But nothing to the debt you’re about to be repaid by Beria. Interesting to know that your wife isn’t at home, Lukin. I had my men stop at your apartment half an hour ago. No doubt you thought she’d be safer elsewhere. But don’t you worry, we’ll find her. And you know what I’ll do to that wife of yours when we throw her in a cell? Beat her and worse, until she can’t walk.” He leered. “Of course, cooperate and you may find me a little more lenient. What have you been playing at, Lukin?”

  “None of your business,” Lukin spluttered.

  The muscles tightened in Romulka’s face. “You had your yellow friend here tie us up nicely until you got away, didn’t you? Unfortunately, he hasn’t been much help, either. But then perhaps we haven’t tried hard enough to loosen his tongue.” He nodded to the two men standing over Pasha. “Show Lukin what he and his wife can expect in the cellars.”

  One of the men grinned and slapped the rubber truncheon in his hand. It swished through the air and struck Pasha fiercely across the face. The Mongolian screamed in agony as again and again the rubber struck, his head tossing from side to side with the force, until his face was a bloodied pulp.

  Lukin screamed, “No!”

  The beating went on until finally Romulka said, “Enough.” He put the barrel of Lukin’s pistol hard against Pasha’s temple. “Something else I discovered. This yellow turd was seen sniffing around the records office. That’s off-limits without a permit.” He grinned. “A man could get himself killed for sticking his nose where he shouldn’t. I wonder what he was up to? One last chance, Lukin. Either you talk, or I blow his brains out here and now.”

  Pasha seemed barely conscious, his eyes unable to focus, a froth of blood on his mouth. Then suddenly a gurgling sound came from his throat, and with a burst of rage he came to life.

  “Tell him nothing, Yuri!” His bloodied face stared up at Romulka, his voice a hoarse whisper. “You . . .can go . . .ask the devil . . .”

  Romulka’s face erupted in fury, and the Tokarev came up so fast Lukin could barely react. The weapon pressed into Pasha’s temple, the hammer clicked, and the gun exploded.

  Pasha’s head snapped sideways with the force, his body suddenly limp like a rag doll’s, blood spattering the walls as the bullet tore into his skull.

  Lukin roared, “No!” As he tried to struggle from the chair the two men held him down.

  Romulka turned to him, and the gun came up hard and struck him below the jaw, sent him reeling back, then Romulka pressed the barrel painfully hard into his forehead. “Now it’s your turn, Lukin. You’re going to talk if it’s the last thing you do.” He put the pistol down and picked up the riding crop and said to the men, “On the desk with him.”

  Romulka produced what looked like a strange pair of pliers from his pocket and said to Lukin, “A little implement even the Frenchman couldn’t resist. Only in your case, I assure you you’ll never walk again. And I can’t tell you how much I’m going to enjoy this.”

  As the two men dragged Lukin onto the desk, a voice said, “I really wouldn’t do that.”

  Romulka and the men turned at once. Slanski stood in the open doorway, the silenced Nagant in his hand.

  It happened quickly. One of Romulka’s men started to reach for his pistol and Slanski shot him in the eye. As the man reeled back a second shot hit him in the neck, shattering his windpipe, cutting off the scream in his throat. As the man spun, the second man lunged forward, and Slanski fired twice, hitting him in the throat and chest.

  Slanski was already reacting as Romulka started to reach for his weapon, but Lukin shouted, “No! He’s mine.” He lunged just as Romulka grabbed for the gun, pushed him back against the wall. His arm came up, and the metal claw dug hard into Romulka’s chest. The man’s eyes opened wide in horror as Lukin’s hand went over his mouth to stifle the scream. Lukin stared into his face. “Have a nice time keeping the devil company, Romulka.”

  He withdrew the claw and stepped back as Romulka slid down, a fountain of blood gushing from the gaping wound in his chest. Lukin stared at Slanski in disbelief. “How did you get in here?”

  “As soon as you stepped into the elevator the guard on the desk couldn’t wait to reach for the phone. So I decided to keep you company.”

  “You took a risk.”

  “Lucky for you the building’s almost empty at this time of night.”

  “Thanks, Mischa.”

  Slanski nodded over at Pasha’s body. “But too late to help your friend.”

  Lukin stared at the corpse. For several moments he didn’t speak, then he turned back, grief etched on his face. “He was a good man. A good man wearing a bad uniform.” It took several moments for him to compose himself. “What happened to the guard?”

  “Dead in one of the offices across the hall. Did you make the call?”

  “There wasn’t time.”

  “Then make it now.”

  Lukin crossed to the desk as Slanski we
nt to stand by the door, leaving it open a crack, the Nagant raised and ready. It took Lukin less than a minute to complete the call, and when he replaced the receiver there was sweat on his face. He looked at Slanski and said, “It’s done.”

  “Then let’s get out of here before someone raises the alarm. Don’t forget the uniform.”

  Lukin crossed to his locker in the corner and removed his spare uniform, gloves, boots, and cap. Slanski went out, pausing only to check the hallway, but it was deserted. Lukin took a long, painful look at Pasha’s bloodied face, then followed him out.

  • • •

  They reached the Kuntsevo road ten minutes later. There was little traffic. Once they had left the suburbs behind, Slanski said, “Pull over. I want to go over the plan one more time. There can’t be any mistakes, Petya.”

  Lukin shook his head. “There’s no time. It won’t take long before someone discovers the guard on the door is missing. After that, there’ll be murder to pay.”

  “How much time have we got?”

  “The shift changes in half an hour. But someone’s going to notice the missing guard before then.”

  “How much longer to Stalin’s dacha?”

  “Ten minutes, a straight road all the way. Another ten to get in, if we’re lucky. We’re cutting it fine.”

  Slanski looked ahead through the falling snow. There was a blaze of lights off to the right side of the Kuntsevo road, some sort of red-brick factory compound with massive gates, and then he saw an ambulance inch slowly out through the gates and realized the place was a hospital. On the left side of the road a narrow track led off into darkness. A squat, flat-roofed derelict building in the same red brick as the hospital stood to the right of the track. Slanski pointed through the windshield. “What’s that?”

  “A bomb shelter from the war.”

  “Pull in beside it.”