by Mark Blair
‘A lot going on… don’t know what it’s all about. The duty chief called the police but that was an hour ago,’ said the driver.
The nurse slid in next to the driver and Viktoriya next to her by the window. Vladek jumped into the back with Misha and the two paramedics. The driver frowned, no doubt irritated by the number of passengers, switched on the blue flashing light, and drove up to the exit.
An armed guard stepped off the kerb in front of the ambulance. He was stocky, and Viktoriya estimated late twenties, with a shaved head and wearing a metal-studded black biker jacket. The driver wound down the window.
‘We’re in a hurry,’ the driver complained. ‘Get out of my way, you’ve no business here.’
The other guard came round to the driver’s window and waved his gun at the cab.
‘Not so fast, old man. Who have you got on board?’
The nurse leaned forward and gave a name, not Misha’s. ‘This is an emergency. We need to get our patient to the Aleksandrovskaya Hospital urgently.’
Close up, Viktoriya recognised the gunman who had come round to her side as one of Kostya’s men from the club. He clearly hadn’t recognised her, but she didn’t think it would be long before he saw through the disguise. She covered the side of her face closest to him with her hand and picked up a clipboard from the open glove compartment and studied it.
‘Artem, go and check in the back.’
The man in front walked round towards the rear of the vehicle. Viktoriya rested the clipboard on her lap and felt for the handle of the automatic, flicking the safety catch to fire. Her left hand fell and gently pushed the nurse back an inch or two when the gunman looked back towards Artem.
The ambulance sank a fraction on its suspension as the second gunman clambered into the back. From the front, she heard him ask for the patient’s card. Viktoriya tensed. He shouted the name out the back. It was the same name the nurse had given a minute before. The gunman stepped back a foot or so as his partner jumped down from the back and slammed the rear door closed. Viktoriya relaxed a little. He was going to let them through.
The driver reached for the handbrake as the gunman looked Viktoriya straight in the eye. A flicker of recognition crossed his face and he opened his mouth to shout. Viktoriya yanked the gun from her belt, leaned across the nurse and driver and shot him square in the chest as he struggled to turn his Kalashnikov in her direction.
‘Let’s get out of here!’ she yelled.
The driver, needing no encouragement, floored the accelerator.
Kostya’s man had virtually no time to react. Viktoriya watched as Ivan and two of his men appeared at the top of the ramp and cut him down.
They cleared the hospital, took the next corner and slowed to a gentler pace. Ivan’s second car tucked in behind.
‘Why so slow?’ cried Viktoriya.
‘You want a dead-on-arrival, or not? Where are we going then? I guess it’s not the Aleksandrovskaya Hospital.’
Chapter 49
Near Kalinin
Yuri pulled up two hours out of Kalinin The snow that had been falling steadily until then had gathered pace in the last ten minutes. Twice they had nearly left the road, visibility reduced to a few metres. White powdery drifts leaned against the forest edge.
‘What do you think?’ asked Yuri. ‘You’re the pilot.’
‘I thought you were the tank commander… this is pretty wild. Maybe we should pull up until first light. At least they won’t be sending up helicopters after us in this weather.’
A dirt track led off the road into the forest. Yuri took it and steered the jeep through the thickening snow until he reached a second fork. Left or right? He plumped for right. No wonder this vehicle was called the goat, Yuri thought, as the tyres negotiated the thick snow and ice.
Surrounded by dense wood, three hundred metres in, Yuri found what he was looking for – a small log cabin, probably used by local loggers or trappers.
‘Had to be something up here,’ said Yuri.
Yuri climbed out of the jeep and flipped up his collar against the intruding snow. The cabin looked abandoned, but this late it was difficult to tell. He sniffed the air; there was no telltale smell of burning wood, no glow from inside. Derevenko got out the other side and shrugged his shoulders.
The pair trudged the final twenty metres to the raised porch.
‘See anything?’
Yev rubbed off the ice etched onto the window and shone the torch inside. He shook his head. Walking back to the jeep, Yuri rummaged around the boot until he found the puncture repair kit, extracted a tyre lever and forced open the cabin door.
Inside, it was dry, if not spartan. A bunk, a gas cooker with no cylinder, and a small wooden table, covered in candle wax, with four heavily repaired chairs were the sum total of its contents. An old oil can, cut into two, sat on the dusty hearth of an open fireplace and served as a box for kindling. Yuri picked up a small brittle branch and snapped it in two.
Yuri shrugged. ‘Probably better than the car. There’s firewood under the porch outside. I think we’re safe to light up.’
In less than ten minutes a roaring fire burned in the hearth. Yuri and Derevenko sat facing the heat, tucking into the piroshky pastries provided courtesy of the major. For the first time since the morning, Yuri relaxed. Maybe he could sit out the winter here, live the simple life, fish in the ice-covered river, hunt deer.
‘Do you have a dacha, General?’
‘No, but my grandparents and parents did outside Yekaterinburg, where I was born. It has gone now, but it brings back good memories.’ Yuri thought of the lake and golden autumnal forest that rose from its edge and rolled back over soft undulating hills.
‘Some history there.’
‘My grandmother saw the Tsarina shortly before they were all murdered. She worked as a maid in a neighbouring house and heard the gunfire that night. Odd when you think of it. It wasn’t that long ago, generationally.’
‘And now, Moscow… where do you think we will go from here – politically, I mean?’ the captain asked.
‘I’ve been thinking the same question… the general secretary is the revolutionary now. He understands things have to change if the country is to move forward. And the communists? The smart ones – they understand he is their nemesis. They can’t both survive. Have you been to Western Europe, Captain?’
The captain shook his head.
‘Well, it’s a revelation.’ Yuri thought of his visits to Switzerland during the Afghan pull-out negotiations and the journey from there to Milan and RUI’s office. ‘The average citizen does not struggle for the bare necessities of life. More than that… the choice… the freedom… go where you want… buy what you want… of course, if you have the money.’
‘And you, General, how are you caught up in all this?’
‘I’m a revolutionary.’ And he laughed, not quite having put it like that before. ‘I’m not alone.’
‘But one of the more… influential.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Would you consider going into politics, General?’
‘I don’t think I’m quite ready for that.’
The captain passed Yuri the bottle of vodka. They were silent for a moment. Yuri took a swig as he leaned forward and threw another log on the fire.
‘We could just sit this, whatever-it-is, out, General. Wait until the dust settles. You could make a decision then… stay or go. Rumour has it you have money… according to the major anyway… you could leave the country… but I suspect that is not what you are going to do.’
‘True, Yev.’
He was not going to be an exile. He had to get back to Moscow, figure out what was going on.
Chapter 50
Leningrad
‘No Adriana?’ said Vdovin, clearly disappointed not to have seen her on his way down to Konstantin�
��s office.
‘She’s doing penance, courtesy of the GUVD.’ Konstantin decided not to elaborate. She was finished one way or another as far as he was concerned.
Vdovin shrugged and pulled a long face. ‘Well it was good while it lasted, still—’
‘So what’s the state of play?’ Konstantin interrupted.
‘The general secretary is under house arrest at his dacha outside Moscow… and refuses to sign his letter of resignation… Ghukov has been replaced by Volkov, and the Americans have been told not to interfere in our European sphere. The deputy secretary is going to speak to the nation and give them the sad news that our general secretary is in a critical condition, which of course is true.’ Vdovin laughed at his own joke.
‘And General Marov?’
‘On the run. The KGB is going to take care of that upstart.’ Konstantin saw the look of distaste on the general’s face. ‘Speaking of which, Misha Revnik is still alive.’
‘Barely. I don’t think he will be causing anyone any trouble soon.’
‘Well, my friend is not happy.’
‘You can tell your friend that everyone else on that list is taken care of. I have four people in a warehouse by Pulkova. They have no idea what is going on. I’ll need to know what to do with them. They can’t stay there forever.’
Vdovin nodded. ‘You need help with Revnik?’
Konstantin did not want the military involved. There was money at Morskaya Prospect, tons of it. They’d sack the place.
‘No, I’ll deal with Revnik.’ And Viktoriya, he thought. She had certainly given him a run for his money, proved more resourceful and lethal than he had anticipated. When she, her half-dead friend and general were gone, RUI would be his. It was more or less going to plan.
14 OCTOBER 1989
Chapter 51
Near Kalinin
Yuri woke at first light and felt a powerful urge to relieve himself. Unzipping his sleeping bag, he rolled off the lower bunk and scrabbled around for his boots. He found them tucked under the bed and fished them out. Derevenko grunted, still asleep. Yuri decided not to wake him for the moment. He donned his parka and gazed out onto the clearing in front of the cabin. The jeep was where he had left it, its roof canvas still visible under a light sprinkling of snow. The snow must have stopped shortly after they had arrived. Tyre tracks traced their way back to the fork he had negotiated the previous night. He wondered how visible they might be from the main road.
Nothing to be done right now. He would wake the captain as soon as he was back. Fifty metres into the wood, Yuri stopped behind a large fir, unbuttoned his jeans and began to relieve himself on a small bank of snow drifted against the tree. He looked up at a crystal-clear blue sky, and, with a sense of relief, breathed in the morning air, watching his breath as he exhaled and the steam rise from the ochre indentation he was making at his feet.
The sound of feet crunching on snow made him look up.
One hundred metres down towards the fork, two men in parka jackets and fur ushankas crept up the drive. Yuri hurriedly fastened his flies and took cover behind the tree. He felt for his automatic and then remembered he had left it in the jeep. He cursed himself… so much for basic training.
He didn’t have a lot of time. The moment the two intruders entered the cabin they would see his empty sleeping bag and guess where he was. Yuri estimated the distance to the jeep at fifty metres, about the same distance to the cabin door.
Squatting down, with the two men in front of him now, he began to circle towards the back of the cabin, using the trees and snowdrifts for cover. When the gunmen disappeared from view, Yuri sprinted the final thirty metres and flattened himself against the log wall, to the right of a small high-up window.
It was then he noticed the hatchet, buried in a wood block, placed next to a pile of neatly stacked logs. Carefully, he twisted it free. It felt heavy but familiar, just under a kilo, with a smooth wood haft. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he thought of his father and the dacha outside Yekaterinburg, splitting logs in late summer and stacking them in readiness for cold winter nights.
Bending down, Yuri loosened his laces and gently eased off both boots, making sure they didn’t bang on the deck. They must be inside by now, he thought. As if in answer, Yuri caught the high-pitched screech of wood being dragged over wood followed by a heavy thud and a cry of protest. Yuri ducked under the window and edged his way round to the front porch. Raised voices emanated from the open cabin door. He could hear Derevenko arguing. Yuri weighed the hatchet in his hand. It might be Stone Age versus twentieth-century man, but it was the only chance he had… that they both had.
Bent double, Yuri raced under the front window to the door jamb and flattened himself against the side of the cabin. Where were they now? Front or back? He tilted his head slightly towards the open doorway. He could make out Derevenko’s voice.
‘Did you bring us any breakfast? We ate all our rations last night. I’m sure the general will be back in a second.’
‘In the jeep,’ replied a second voice.
Yuri stepped into full view. Derevenko sat at the table with two men Yuri now recognised as the co-pilot and navigator.
‘Cometh the man, cometh the axeman… chopping wood, General?’
Derevenko and his companions began to laugh. Yuri swung the hatchet in front of him in mock attack.
‘A pity, I was rather looking forward to using this. How did you find us?’
‘We borrowed a jeep. There were checkpoints everywhere east of the reservoir so we took the A14. We guessed you would head towards Moscow, General.’
‘And you saw our tracks?’
Anatoly nodded.
‘The goat has a pretty distinctive track.’
‘We should decamp.’
***
With Anatoly and the navigator acting as point, the two jeeps headed back out on the road. Traffic was sparse; a freighter ploughed past them in the opposite direction and then a car.
Yuri tried to put himself in the mind of his pursuers. It wouldn’t take a genius to describe an arc around Cherepovets. At least the two of them had succeeded in widening that circle by evading capture overnight, but if Anatoly and the navigator could find them, so could the military police.
‘Do you still think they are going to be coming after us, General?’ asked Derevenko.
As if in answer, a helicopter clattered loudly across the highway just above tree height. Yuri glanced up through the dense snow-laden overhang of trees and caught the tail of an MTV as it raced north. He guessed it would turn in about ten to twenty minutes and retrace its steps. They had to change vehicles, into something more anonymous than a military UAZ.
Derevenko flashed Anatoly to stop. The two vehicles pulled over, well under the forest canopy.
‘We need to ditch these. We’re an open target in a sky like this. You saw the MTV?’
They both nodded.
‘They’re doing a sweep. It’s probably not the only MTV up there either,’ said the navigator.
‘Get everything we need out of the jeeps. Yev, you still have your uniform. Anatoly, go up the highway one hundred metres, and Stephan, one hundred metres downwind. When you see something coming, whistle.’
Yuri watched as the two men trudged off in opposite directions and took cover behind the firs that hugged the roadside’s edge. Derevenko climbed into the jeep and turned on the engine.
They didn’t have long to wait. Yuri heard a piercing whistle from Anatoly. Yuri banged on the canvas and Yev rolled forward, blocking the road in both directions. The dark blue Lada skidded inches from the side of his jeep. A heavily built man with wiry hair that stuck out from under his beanie, and wearing a tartan jacket, jumped out, furious at Yev’s apparent lack of road skills. What the hell was he doing blocking the road like that?
Yev climbed out of the j
eep as Yuri appeared from the roadside.
The driver looked momentarily confused.
‘What’s going on?’
He looked from Yev in uniform to Yuri in his civilian clothing.
‘This smells fishy to me!’ he shouted, raising his fists.
‘Comrade, we need to borrow your car,’ said Yuri.
Anatoly and Stephan appeared from opposite directions.
‘Borrow? Steal, you mean.’
‘No, comrade,’ said Yuri, ‘we are going to commandeer your very nice vehicle until we reach Moscow and then you can have it back.’
Yuri could see him hesitating.
‘You really don’t have a choice,’ said the captain.
The driver, bug-eyed, turned full circle, looking from face to face before finally dropping his hands in defeat.
‘Comrade, think of it as an act of patriotism,’ said Yuri, holding out his hand for the key.
Chapter 52
Leningrad
‘How is he?’ Viktoriya asked the doctor when they were outside the office that now doubled as a ward room for Misha.
‘I would rather he were in an intensive care unit, but his vital signs are good. He’s young and he’s strong.’
Viktoriya remembered the previous night and the anxious journey to Morskaya. The relief when they had finally pulled through the gates. Grigory had been the first to greet her. He looked pale and visibly rattled, and she had wondered whether he would be able to hold himself together. Ivan had appeared a minute later unscathed behind them and organised a temporary bed from the guardroom for Misha. She had rung the doctor as soon as Misha had been settled and organised for a hospital bed, equipment and medicines the next morning.