* * *
As if Elena’s problems at home weren’t bad enough, things were becoming worse at work, as the major’s advances became less and less subtle. She had considered pouring boiling water over his wandering hands, but the consequences didn’t bear thinking about.
It must have been about a week later, as she was tidying up the kitchen before returning home, that Polyakov staggered in, clearly drunk, and began to unbutton his trousers as he advanced toward her. Just as he was about to place a sweaty hand on her breast, a junior officer rushed in, and said that the commandant needed to see him urgently. Polyakov couldn’t hide his frustration, and as he left, hissed at Elena, “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back later.” Elena was so terrified, she didn’t leave the kitchen for over an hour. But the moment the siren finally sounded, she pulled on her coat and was among the first to clock off.
When her brother joined her for supper that evening, she begged him to tell her the details of his plan.
“I thought you said it was far too great a risk.”
“I did, but that was before I realized I can’t avoid Polyakov’s advances any longer.”
“You told me you could even bear that, as long as Alexander never found out.”
“But if he did,” said Elena quietly, “can you imagine what he might do? So tell me what you have in mind, because I’ll consider anything.”
Kolya leaned forward and poured himself a shot of vodka before he began to take her slowly through his plan. “As you know, several foreign vessels unload their cargo at the docks every week, and we have to turn them around as quickly as possible, so any waiting ships can take their place. That’s my responsibility.”
“But how does that help us?” asked Elena.
“Once a ship has been unloaded, the loading process begins. Because not everyone wants bags of salt or cases of vodka, some vessels leave the port empty.” Elena remained silent while her brother continued. “There are two ships due in on Friday, which after they’ve discharged their cargo will leave on the Saturday afternoon tide with empty holds. You and Alexander could be hidden on one of them.”
“But if we’re caught we could end up on a cattle train to Siberia.”
“That’s why it’s important to take our chance this Saturday, because for once the odds will be stacked in our favor.”
“Why?” asked Elena.
“Zenit F.C. are playing Torpedo Moscow in the final of the Soviet Cup, and almost all of the officers will be sitting in a box at the stadium supporting Moscow, while most of the workers will be cheering on the home side from the terraces. So there’ll be a three-hour window we could take advantage of, and by the time the final whistle blows, you and Alexander could be on your way to a new life in London or New York.”
“Or Siberia?”
3
ALEXANDER
Kolya and Elena never left for the docks in the morning at the same time, and they didn’t return home together at night. When they were at work, there was no reason for their paths to cross, and they were careful to make sure they never did. Kolya came down from his flat on the sixth floor every evening, but they didn’t discuss what they were planning until after Alexander had gone to bed, when they talked of little else.
By Friday evening, they’d gone over everything they imagined could go wrong again and again, although Elena remained convinced something would trip them up at the last moment. She didn’t sleep that night, but then she hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours a night for the past month.
Kolya told her that because of the cup final, almost all the dockers had opted for the early shift on Saturday morning—six until midday—so once the noon siren blasted, the docks would only be manned by a skeleton crew.
“And I’ve already told Alexander I wasn’t able to get him a ticket, so he’s reluctantly signed up for the afternoon shift.”
“When will you tell him?” asked Elena.
“Not until the last moment. Think like the KGB. They don’t even tell themselves.”
Comrade Akimov had already told Elena that she could take Saturday off, because he doubted if any of the officers would bother to come in for lunch, as they wouldn’t want to miss the kickoff.
“I’ll pop in during the morning,” she told him. “It’s just possible they might not all be football fans. But I’ll leave around midday if no one turns up.”
Uncle Kolya had managed to pick up a couple of spare tickets on the terraces, but he didn’t tell Alexander that he’d sacrificed them to make sure his deputy loader and the chief crane operator wouldn’t be around on Saturday afternoon.
* * *
When Alexander came into the kitchen for breakfast the following morning, he was surprised to find his uncle had joined them, and wondered if he’d managed to get hold of a spare ticket at the last moment. When he asked him, Alexander was puzzled by his reply.
“You could be playing in a far more important match this afternoon,” said Kolya. “It’s also against Moscow, and one you can’t afford to lose.”
The young man sat in silence as his uncle took him through what he and his mother had been planning for the past week. Elena had already told her brother that if Alexander didn’t want to be involved, for whatever reason, the whole enterprise would have to be called off. She needed to be certain that her son wasn’t in any doubt about the risks they were taking. Kolya even offered him a bribe to make sure he was fully committed.
“I did manage to get a ticket for the match,” he said, waving it in the air, “so if you’d rather—”
He and Elena watched the young man carefully to see how he would react. “To hell with the match,” was his immediate reaction.
“But it will mean your having to leave Russia, perhaps never to return,” said Kolya.
“That won’t stop me being a Russian. And we may never get a better chance to escape from those bastards who killed my father.”
“Then that’s settled,” said Kolya. “But you have to understand I won’t be coming with you.”
“Then we won’t be going,” said Alexander, jumping up from his father’s old chair. “I’m not leaving you behind to face the music.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to. If you and your mother are to have any chance of getting away, I’ll have to stay behind and cover your tracks. It’s no more than your father would have expected.”
“But—” began Alexander.
“No buts. Now I must get going and join the morning shift so I can supervise the loading of both ships and everyone will assume that, like them, I’ll be at the football match this afternoon.”
“But won’t they become suspicious when no one remembers seeing you at the match?” asked Elena.
“Not if I get my timing right,” said Kolya. “The second half should begin around four o’clock, by which time I’ll be watching the match with the rest of the lads, and with a bit of luck, by the time the final whistle blows, you’ll be outside territorial waters. Just make sure you report for the afternoon shift on time, and for a change, do whatever your supervisor tells you.” Alexander grinned as his uncle stood up and gave him a bear hug. “Make your father proud of you,” he said before leaving.
As Kolya stepped out of the flat he met Alexander’s friend coming down the stairs.
“Have you got a ticket for the match, Mr. Obolsky?” he asked.
“I have,” said Kolya. “In the north end terrace with the rest of the lads. So I’ll see you there.”
“Afraid not,” said Vladimir. “I’ll be sitting in the west stand.”
“Lucky boy,” said Kolya as they walked down the steps together, and although he was tempted, he didn’t ask what he’d had to do in return for his ticket.
“What about Alexander, will he be with you?”
“Sadly not. He’s having to work the afternoon shift, and I can tell you, he’s pretty pissed off.”
“Tell him I’ll drop by this evening and give him a blow-by-blow account.”
�
�That’s good of you, Vladimir. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. Enjoy the game,” he added as they went their separate ways.
* * *
Once Kolya had left for the docks, Alexander still had a dozen more questions for his mother, some of which she couldn’t answer, including which country they would be going to.
“Two ships will be sailing on the afternoon tide around three o’clock,” said Elena, “but we won’t know which one Uncle Kolya has chosen until the last moment.”
It was clear to Elena that Alexander had already forgotten about the football match, as he paced excitedly around the room, preoccupied by the thought of escaping. She looked on anxiously. “This isn’t a game, Alexander,” she said firmly. “If we are caught, your uncle will be shot, and we’ll be transported to a labor camp, where you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you’d gone to the match. It’s not too late for you to change your mind.”
“I know what my father would have done,” said Alexander.
“Then you’d better go and get ready,” said his mother.
Alexander returned to his room while his mother packed the lunch box he took to work every morning. On this occasion it wasn’t filled with food, but with all the notes and coins she and Konstantin had scraped together over the years, a few pieces of jewelry of little value, other than her mother’s engagement ring, which she slipped on next to her wedding ring, and finally a Russian–English dictionary. How Elena now wished she’d spent more time concentrating when Konstantin and Alexander had spoken English every evening. She then packed her own small suitcase, hoping it wouldn’t attract attention when she turned up for work later that morning. The problem was deciding what to include and what to leave behind. Her photos of Konstantin and the family were her first priority, followed by one change of clothes and a bar of soap. She also managed to squeeze in a hairbrush and a comb before forcing the lid closed. Alexander had wanted to take his copy of War and Peace, but she had assured him he’d be able to get another copy wherever they landed.
Alexander was desperate to get going, but his mother wasn’t willing to leave before the agreed time. Kolya had warned her they couldn’t afford to draw attention to themselves by arriving at the dock gates before the siren sounded at twelve. They finally left the flat just after eleven, taking a circuitous route to the dockyard where it was unlikely they would run into anyone they knew. They arrived outside the entrance just before twelve, to face a stampede of workers heading in the opposite direction.
Alexander battled his way through the advancing army, while his mother, head bowed, followed in his wake. Once they’d clocked in, Elena reminded him: “The siren will go at two for the mid-afternoon break, then we’ll have twenty minutes, no more, so make sure you join me at the officers’ club as quickly as possible.”
Alexander nodded, and headed for dock number 6 to begin his shift, his mother going in the opposite direction. Once Elena reached the back door of the club, she opened it cautiously, poked her head inside, and listened intently. Not a sound.
She hung up her coat and made her way through to the kitchen. She was surprised to find Olga sitting at the table smoking, something she would never have done if an officer had been on the premises. Olga told her that even Comrade Akimov had left moments after the siren had sounded at midday. She blew out a cloud of smoke, her idea of rebellion.
“Why don’t I cook us both a meal?” said Elena, putting on her apron. “Then we can eat our lunch sitting down for a change, as if we were officers.”
“And there’s half a bottle of that Bulgarian red left over from yesterday’s lunch,” said Olga, “so we can even drink to the bastards’ health.”
Elena laughed for the first time that day, and then set about preparing what she hoped would be her last meal in Leningrad.
At one o’clock, Olga and Elena went into the dining room and laid the table, putting out the best cutlery and linen napkins. Olga poured two glasses of red wine, and was about to take a sip from her glass when the door burst open and Major Polyakov strode in.
“Your lunch is prepared, Comrade Major,” she said, not missing a beat. He looked at the two wine glasses suspiciously. “Will anyone be joining you?” she added quickly.
“No, they’re all at the match so I will be dining alone,” said Polyakov before turning to Elena. “Be sure you don’t leave before I’ve finished my lunch, Comrade Karpenkova.”
“Of course not, Comrade Major,” Elena replied.
The two women scurried back into the kitchen. “That can only mean one thing,” said Olga as Elena filled a bowl with hot fish soup.
Olga took the first course through to Polyakov and placed it on the table. As she turned to leave, he said, “Once you’ve served the main course, you can take the rest of the day off.”
“Thank you, Comrade Major, but one of my duties after you’ve left is to clear up—”
“Immediately after you’ve served the main course,” he repeated. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Comrade Major.” Olga returned to the kitchen, and once the door was closed she told Elena what Polyakov had demanded. “I’d do anything I can to help,” she added, “but I daren’t cross the bastard.” Elena said nothing as she filled a plate with veal stew, turnips, and mashed potato. “You could always go home now,” said Olga. “I’ll tell him you weren’t feeling well.”
“I can’t,” said Elena, noticing that Olga was undoing the top two buttons of her blouse. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re a good friend, but I fear he wants to sample a new dish.” She handed the plate to Olga.
“I’d happily kill him,” said Olga, before returning to the dining room.
The major pushed his empty soup bowl to one side, as Olga placed the plate of hot stew in front of him.
“If you’re still on the premises by the time I’ve finished,” he said, “you’ll be back serving those scum in the works canteen on Monday.”
Olga picked up the soup bowl and returned to the kitchen, surprised by how calm her friend appeared to be, even though she couldn’t have been in any doubt what was about to happen. But then, Elena couldn’t tell her why she was willing to endure even Polyakov’s advances if it meant that she and her son would finally escape the KGB’s clutches.
“I’m so sorry,” said Olga, as she slipped on her coat, “but I can’t afford to lose my job. See you on Monday,” she added, before giving Elena a longer than usual hug.
“Let’s hope not,” whispered Elena as Olga closed the door behind her. She was just about to turn off the stove when she heard the dining room door open. She swung around to see Polyakov walking slowly toward her, still chewing a last mouthful of stew. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve before unbuttoning a jacket covered in medals that hadn’t been won on a battlefield. He unbuckled his belt and placed it on the table beside his pistol, then kicked off his boots before starting to unzip his trousers, which fell to the floor. He stood there, no longer able to hide the rolls of surplus flesh that were usually hidden beneath a well-tailored uniform.
“There are two ways we can do this,” said the KGB chief as he continued walking toward her until their bodies were almost touching. “I’ll leave the choice to you.”
Elena forced a smile, wanting to get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible. She took off her apron and began to unbutton her blouse.
Polyakov smirked as he clumsily fondled her breasts. “You’re just like the rest of them,” he said, pushing her toward the table while trying to kiss her at the same time. Elena could smell his stinking breath, and turned her head so their lips didn’t touch. She felt his stubby fingers fumbling under her skirt, but this time she didn’t resist, just stared blankly over his shoulder as a sweaty hand moved up the inside of her thigh.
He shoved her up against the table, lifted her skirt, and thrust her legs apart. Elena closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. She could feel him panting as he lurched forward, praying it would be over quickly.
The two o�
��clock siren sounded.
Elena looked up when she heard the door on the far side of the room open, and stared in horror as Alexander came charging toward them. Polyakov turned around, quickly pushed Elena to one side, and reached for his gun, but the young man was now only a yard away. Alexander lifted the pot from the stove, and hurled the remains of the hot stew in Polyakov’s face. The major staggered back and fell to the floor, delivering a stream of invective that Elena feared would be heard on the far side of the yard.
“You’ll hang for this!” Polyakov yelled as he grabbed the edge of the table and tried to pull himself up. But before he could utter another word, Alexander swung the heavy iron pot into his face. Polyakov collapsed to the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Mother and son didn’t move as they stared at their fallen adversary.
Alexander was the first to recover. He picked up Polyakov’s tie from the floor and quickly bound his hands behind his back, then grabbed a napkin from the table and stuffed it in his mouth. Elena hadn’t moved. She just stared blankly ahead, as if paralyzed.
“Be ready to leave the moment I get back,” said Alexander, grabbing Polyakov by the ankles. He dragged him out of the kitchen and down the corridor, not stopping until he reached the lavatories, where he crammed the major into the end cubicle. It took all his strength to lift him onto the toilet, and then tie him to the pipe. He locked the door from the inside, and climbing up onto the major’s legs, pulled himself over the top and lowered himself to the floor. He ran back to the kitchen to find his mother on her knees, sobbing.
He knelt down beside her. “No time for tears, Mama,” he said gently. “We have to get going before the bastard has the chance to come after us.” He helped her slowly to her feet, and while she put on her coat and collected her small suitcase from the larder, he gathered up Polyakov’s uniform, belt, and gun and dumped them in the nearest waste bin. Taking Elena firmly by the hand, he led her out of the kitchen to the back door. He opened it tentatively, stepped outside, and checked in every direction before standing aside to allow her to join him.
Heads You Win Page 3