“I understand quite well, Major.”
“Then you’ll not be offended when I remind you your brother was on duty at unit four when the so-called accident occurred. Shall I go on?”
“If you wish,” said Lazlo.
Komarov put out his cigarette but did not light another. “It’s a matter of logic, Detective Horvath. Unit four was in the process of shutting down and was especially vulnerable. A saboteur, aware of its vulnerability, would have chosen this moment to act.”
Komarov stood, walked to the window, split the ornate window curtains with his fingers, and looked out. When he came back to the desk, he lit another cigarette and sat down. “You see, Detective Horvath, the saboteur had everything planned. On Friday afternoon, since there were other experienced technical personnel about, he would have been able to make up an excuse to leave the building and go to another part of the site. He might have gone to the low-level laboratory and joined his accomplice in the sub-basement.
She would have hidden him there and stayed with him while everyone else …”
Komarov waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not saying any of this has to do with your brother, Detective Horvath. However, his intimacy with both unit four and Juli Popovics—who, as a dosimetrist, was supposed to report for duty in the event of an accident—is of interest. Other names in the mix come to mind. A cousin named Andrew Zukor, and also a close friend of Juli Popovics named Aleksandra Yasinsky, a known counterrevolutionary.”
Komarov smashed out his cigarette and stood. He laughed.
“Oh well, it’s simply speculation. Right, Detective Horvath? Chief Investigator Chkalov?”
“It sounds serious,” said Chkalov.
Komarov emptied the film can in Chkalov’s wastebasket. “A reactor explosion is serious. We all need to think about the details leading up to it. You’ll think about the details, won’t you, Detective Horvath?”
“I will,” said Lazlo.
When Komarov walked past to leave the office, Lazlo imagined dragging Komarov to the floor and strangling him. Instead he said,
“Good morning, Major,” and Komarov was gone.
Chkalov stared at Lazlo for a moment, and finally said, “You’re due back on duty at three. Everyone is working sixteen-hour shifts until further notice. You are no exception. This time make sure you stay until six.”
On his way out, Lazlo saw Komarov waiting in the reception area outside Chkalov’s office. Komarov stood at the window looking out. There was a cloud of smoke about him, and the receptionist was coughing.
Lazlo sat in the Zhiguli in front of militia headquarters. Down the block he saw the construction collective van, which had alternated with a gray Moskvich for the past two days. He needed sleep, but he needed to see Juli more. If Komarov believed what he said, they would pick Juli up for questioning.
He had no other choice but to go to Juli. He would sleep there, perhaps in her arms. But first he would go to his apartment and appear to run errands to cover the only real errand necessary. He would stop at the bank to get out all his money, or however many rubles they would allow. He needed to be free, like a Gypsy, ready for anything.
Komarov waited until Detective Horvath was gone before confront-ing the chief investigator at his office door.
“Why not speak with me about Detective Horvath?” asked Chkalov in a harsh whisper.
“Because I’ve already spoken with you,” said Komarov. “So, if I may speak with the deputy chief investigator … what was his name?”
“Lysenko,” growled Chkalov. “I’ll show you to his office.”
Deputy Chief Investigator Lysenko’s office was smaller than Chkalov’s, his desk stacked with papers, indicating Lysenko was busier than his boss. Lysenko was trim and dressed in a tailored suit.
“How may I help you, Major?”
“I’ll come right to the point,” said Komarov. “It’s about Detective Horvath. I’m afraid I must inform you he is being investigated by the KGB in regard to events leading up to the incident at Chernobyl.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
Lysenko looked serious but not overly surprised. Komarov decided he might be able to use Lysenko later as well as now.
“Yes. If you can observe Detective Horvath when he’s here at headquarters, I would appreciate it.”
“By all means,” said Lysenko.
“And one other thing,” said Komarov. “Leaving one’s post at such a critical time is a serious matter, is it not?”
“It is, Major.”
“I’m afraid I might have to file an official KGB report unless …”
“Unless what?”
“If the report came from the militia’s own office, it might be much better … for the militia. To put it bluntly, Deputy Chief, I think you should file an official report to your chief immediately.
Otherwise, like I said, I’d have to file a report from my men who were watching Detective Horvath last night. It wouldn’t gain me or the KGB anything, but it would be our duty. You, on the other hand … well, I’ll let you decide. I understand leaving one’s militia post is often disciplined by at least a temporary suspension.”
“Certainly,” said Lysenko.
“Copy me on your report.” Komarov turned to leave. “If I don’t hear from you by five this afternoon, I’ll file my report.”
“I’ll file a report immediately and have a copy sent to you by messenger,” said Lysenko.
Back in his car, when Captain Azef asked what had gone on in militia headquarters, Komarov answered with an exhale of smoke.
“Drive me back to the office, Captain. I have a meeting with Captain Brovko.”
Komarov stood at his office window, smoking a cigarette and looking out at the evening lights of Kiev. It had been a busy day. This morning’s visit to militia headquarters had put Horvath firmly in his grasp. Later in the morning, Captain Brovko filled him in on the interrogation of Tamara Petrov. Although there was nothing specific concerning the Chernobyl incident, Brovko’s list of incidental factors could be pieced together to discredit Horvath’s character.
Brovko was an intelligent young officer; someone to be careful of should he try to position himself for promotion at Komarov’s expense. Keep Brovko busy. Keep Brovko out of the way while his own plan reaches its climax.
By tomorrow the connection between the Horvath cousin and possible sabotage at Chernobyl would have a life of its own. Especially after tonight’s final meeting, the final link in the chain.
Komarov went to the outer office where Nikolai Nikolskaia’s partner had been waiting to see him for over an hour.
The former PK agent was light-skinned and effeminate, reminding him of Dmitry. After leading him into his office and closing the door, Komarov sat across from the agent, making a show of examining his KGB personnel file.
“Pavel. May I call you Pavel?”
“Of course, Major.”
“Good. After speaking with your fellow PK agent, I wanted a chance to meet you. Nikolskaia is an interesting character, unmarried.” Komarov flipped through the file. “I see you are married.
Was your wife able to leave Pripyat safely?”
“She came to Kiev after the accident. She’s staying with her sister.”
Komarov put the file down and lit a cigarette. “How would you like to be permanently stationed here?”
“And not return to the PK in Pripyat?”
“Both, Pavel. I wish to permanently assign you as one of my agents here in Kiev.”
“I don’t know what to say, Major. I’m honored.”
“Good. I’ll need to provide you with more detailed information concerning the Chernobyl case and Detective Horvath.”
“We’ve watched him visiting Juli Popovics.”
“I’ve admired your thorough reports, Pavel. It is also convenient you learned Hungarian in KGB language school. The reason I’ve asked you in tonight, besides wanting to meet you, is because I need you to bring Juli Popovics in for questio
ning tomorrow. It might be routine, or it could be serious. We’ll know tomorrow.”
Komarov leaned back in his chair. “Because you and Nikolskaia were involved in the case from the beginning …”
Komarov paused, giving Pavel a chance to volunteer information.
“From the beginning?”
“Yes. While at the PK office in Pripyat, you and Nikolskaia brought the Horvath cousin, one Andrew Zukor, to my attention.
He’s been given the code name Gypsy Moth. However, this is in question because the Gypsy Moth might be someone else.”
“Who?”
“According to information transmitted from the First Chief Directorate in Moscow, Detective Lazlo Horvath may be the Gypsy Moth. Someone has been passing Chernobyl information to foreign intelligence for years. Efforts to measure Soviet plutonium production using clandestine air sampling have gone on for decades…
You look puzzled. You have heard of these programs?”
“Plutonium … yes.”
“Good, Pavel. Then you should not be surprised to learn Detective Horvath, his brother, and Juli Popovics may have formed a triumvirate. Ukrainians bent on destroying their republic. But perhaps I’ve revealed too much. I want you to concentrate on the assignment at hand. You will bring Juli Popovics into this office for questioning tomorrow. If necessary, you will use force. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Major. I … we understand. Should we do it in the morning?”
“At exactly nine o’clock. And you will return back here at ten. If it is a routine matter, we’ll question her briefly, and you can return her to Visenka. If it is not routine …”
“You really think it involves the Chernobyl explosion?” asked Pavel.
“I do,” said Komarov. “But remember, at this point evidence remains circumstantial. We’ll know more tomorrow.”
Komarov stood, and this prompted Pavel to stand.
“Oh,” said Komarov. “One more thing. If this is conspiracy, the parties involved might become desperate. I spoke with Detective Horvath today, and he seems an aggressive type. If he tries to get in your way, we’ll be certain of conspiracy and of his involvement in it. You have weapons. If it becomes necessary, I expect you to use them.”
Komarov turned his back to Pavel and looked out the window.
He raised his voice. “Make note of this, Pavel. Juli Popovics must be picked up in Visenka at exactly nine tomorrow morning and be in this office at exactly ten. Timing is critical. If you fail, there are other agents who would like to have the luxury of bringing their wives with them to Kiev. You are lucky, Pavel, to have followed a suspect in this case. Otherwise you and your partner would be in serious trouble. Nine o’clock in Visenka, and ten o’clock here. There will be no mistakes! Am I understood?”
“Yes, Major,” said Pavel in a feeble voice.
“You may go.”
Komarov stayed at the window as his office door closed gently behind him. The lights of the city dazzled. Tuesday was almost over.
Tomorrow, Wednesday, a day he had awaited since the Sherbitsky affair, was near. Tomorrow the Chernobyl affair would blossom like a spring flower, and by summer, medals would be pinned on his chest where the knife in his pocket felt like the pressure of a woman’s breast.
Outside Komarov’s office, Pavel felt dizzy. He paused, hoping the major would call him back to say the final statement had been a joke to keep him alert. The mention of Moscow’s First Chief Directorate and plutonium production had upset him because he didn’t know what Komarov was talking about. He didn’t want to know secrets.
All he wanted was a job in Kiev, maybe back in a PK office. And the comment about Nikolai not being married …
A bearded, foreign-looking man sitting in a chair outside Komarov’s office stared at Pavel. “How, now,” said the man.
“What?”
“What, when, where, why,” said the man in a singsong voice.
“All good questions if they evoke images for the poet’s muse.”
Pavel walked out the door of the anteroom, taking his confusion with him. Tomorrow at ten, he and Nikolai would be here again with Juli Popovics. If not, they might end up at a committee hearing for abandoning their posts.
21
Wednesday, May 7, 1986. While driving the streets of Kiev at seven thirty in the morning, Lazlo noticed a subtle change. Instead of the usual straight-ahead or downtrodden look of pedestrians, he saw sideways glances, a few looking his way, perhaps recognizing an un-marked militia Zhiguli. Ten days had passed since the Chernobyl explosion. By now, shortwave receivers were down from closet shelves and attics, with wire antennas strung across living rooms.
Literally and figuratively, Chernobyl was in the air in Kiev.
A half hour ago, he had been rudely awakened by a call from Deputy Chief Investigator Lysenko and told to meet with Chief Investigator Chkalov promptly at eight for another morning meeting.
He wondered if Major Komarov was back looking for scapegoats.
The usual morning pastry vendors along Khreshchatik were absent, and several people climbing up from the metro wore handkerchiefs over their mouths and noses. It was an insane world.
He had been asleep just over an hour when Lysenko called. He’d been within a familiar nightmare, the Gypsy deserter already shot in the face, yet pleading with him not to shoot. He could collapse any moment, run the Zhiguli into the curb. “Look here!” those on the sidewalk would scream. “It’s the radiation in the air! We’re all going to die!”
Yesterday he had spent several hours in Visenka with Juli. He had been too tired to talk and napped after lunch. In the afternoon, when it was time to go on duty, Juli had awakened him with a kiss.
It had not been a dream. Juli was real. Everything around him was actually happening, despite the sensation of floating he felt as he drove through Kiev.
He stopped at a cafe and gulped two cups of strong tea. Back in the car, he turned several corners and circled back on the van following him. As he passed the van and sped to militia headquarters, he rolled down the window.
“Your foot is still in your mother!” he shouted in Hungarian.
The driver, a round-faced, pudgy young man, simply frowned.
Chkalov was alone in his office and avoided looking directly at him.
He was like one of the pedestrians walking down the sidewalk. Even though Komarov was not here, Lazlo smelled a setup. At the last meeting, Komarov had mentioned his cousin, Andrew Zukor. Even he wondered if Zukor’s visit last summer had been for the purpose of speaking with Mihaly about Chernobyl.
Chkalov finally looked at Lazlo. “Many of us are going without sleep these days. I’ll get to the point, Detective Horvath. It has to do with you deserting your post without notifying the officer in charge.”
“I was in charge.”
“Regulations specify you were supposed to notify the officer in charge here at the office before you left your post. You could have radioed instead of abandoning your men.”
He thought, Should I have wiped their asses, too? But he said, “I left an officer in charge.”
“Detective Horvath. Leaving an officer in charge without notifying the officer in charge at the office is not the way it’s done.”
“So, an officer in charge in the field is not necessarily an officer in charge unless the officer in charge at the office is notified?”
Chkalov scowled. “I find it necessary to suspend you, Detective Horvath.”
“Did Komarov tell you to suspend me?”
Chkalov’s face reddened. “The militia is independent of the KGB!”
“Independent?” shouted Lazlo. “If we’re so independent, then why the hell am I being followed day and night? I’ll tell you why!
Komarov is investigating Juli Popovics and me and my dead brother because he needs scapegoats for Chernobyl blunders!”
Chkalov’s fists clenched on the desk. “Impossible! It was an unfortunate accident!”
Lazlo stood up. “How l
ong will I be suspended?”
Chkalov stood, but because he was shorter, he had to look up to Lazlo. “I don’t know! Check back weekly with Lysenko!” The flesh at Chkalov’s neck shook violently. “Don’t stand there looking at me! Get out! Leave your car at the motor pool!”
In the hallway, Lazlo passed Lysenko standing at his office door.
“Good morning, Detective Horvath.”
Lazlo raised his fist, and Lysenko backed into his office. In Hungarian, Lazlo said, “Your foot is still in your mother.”
“What?” whined Lysenko.
“It means the Gypsy is not pleased.” Lazlo continued down the hallway.
“Detective Horvath, a message …” said Lysenko, calling him back.
“What?”
Lysenko handed him an envelope. “It just came up from the front desk.”
Lazlo took the envelope and continued walking. Detective Horvath, Kiev Militia. The handwriting was unfamiliar. He tore open the envelope and stood in the hallway reading it.
My dear Detective Horvath
The when is now
The who is one plus someone more
The where is east of the river
The what is danger to the one plus someone more Foreshadowing the fate of Vasyl Stus
The why is a flower with deadly pollen
Flattening the grass to wormwood
A friend of a friend of Shevchenko
Who would be a friend of a dead nineteenth-century poet? A poet?
The bearded poet in the Zil who brought the message from Tamara. A friend of a friend could mean the message was from Tamara.
Lazlo read the lines again. East of the river. East of the river in Visenka there was danger for Juli and her baby—the one plus someone more. Tamara said Vasyl Stus was a poet who died in a labor camp. Danger to Juli because of the deadly pollen of Chernobyl, the Chernobyl grass, the wormwood Mihaly had spoken of. He recalled telling Tamara about the biblical Chernobyl star. She would know.
She would refer to the fate of Vasyl Stus.
Lazlo Horvath Thriller - 01 - Chernobyl Murders Page 26