by Sam Eastland
Kirov bowed his head, knowing that Stalin was right. He guessed how things would play out now. The drive to Lubyanka in the back of a windowless lorry. The walk to the cellar down the winding stone staircase towards the dome-shaped cells, which he would never reach, because the guard escorting him would put a bullet in the back of his head just as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Kirov bowed his head and waited for sentence to be passed.
Just then, he heard a rustling sound.
Glancing up, Kirov saw that Stalin was holding out to him a single sheet of paper. It was old, discoloured and dog-eared at the corners, as if it had passed through many hands before arriving on the master’s desk.
In the upper left-hand corner, neatly printed in blue ink, was the hammer and sickle seal of the Soviet Union, surrounded by two sheaves of wheat, like hands at prayer. The document, dating back to June of 1929, had been issued by the Central Committee of Prison Labour for the Region of Eastern Siberia. It stated that Prisoner 4745, a tree-marker in the valley of Krasnagolyana, was assumed to have perished of natural causes in the winter of 1928. His body had not been recovered. It was signed by someone named Klenovkin, commandant of the camp at Borodok.
‘Do you know the identity of prisoner 4745?’ asked Stalin.
Kirov shook his head.
‘It was Pekkala.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ said Kirov. ‘This says he died seventeen years ago!’
‘That document was prepared as part of my agreement with the Inspector, back when he first agreed to work with me. The deal I made was not simply to release him, once he had solved his first case, but to wipe him from the memory of this country, as if he had never been here. So you see, Major Kirov, I can hardly punish you for failing to return to Moscow with a man you never met.’
Kirov opened his mouth but no sound came out.
‘Consider yourself lucky,’ said Stalin, ‘and I suggest that, first thing in the morning, you return to work before this streak of good fortune runs out.’
Dazed, Kirov turned to go.
But Stalin wasn’t finished yet. ‘Will you ever forgive him for leaving?’ he asked.
‘There is nothing to forgive,’ replied Kirov.
When Stalin was alone again, he got up from his desk and walked over to the window. Standing to one side, so that he could not be seen by anyone looking from below, he gazed out over the rooftops of the city. The sun had set, and dusty purple twilight fanned across the sky. For a long time, he stood there, as if waiting for something to appear. Then he reached out with both arms and drew the blood-red curtains shut.
Emerging from the Kremlin, Kirov set out through the darkening streets, bound for the tiny flat where he knew his wife would be waiting. As Kirov strode along, he reached into his pocket and closed his hand around the oval disc of gold, feeling the emerald press against the centre of his palm. Kirov did not know how long he’d have to wait before its true owner returned, but he swore a quiet oath to keep it safe, until that day finally came.
At that same moment, far to the north in the wilderness of Finland, the Walker in the Woods lay down to sleep. Beside him lay his wife, her hair glowing softly in the moonlight.
About the Author
Sam Eastland lives in the US and the UK. He is the grandson of a London police detective.
Also by Sam Eastland
EYE OF THE RED TSAR
THE RED COFFIN
SIBERIAN RED
THE RED MOTH
THE BEAST IN THE RED FOREST
THE RED ICON
First published in 2016
by Faber & Faber Ltd
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This ebook edition first published in 2016
All rights reserved
© Sam Eastland, 2016
Cover design by Faber
Cover photograph © Yevgeny Khaldei/Agentur Voller Ernst/dpa/Corbis
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ISBN 978–0–571–32237–4