by Rik Stone
Jez trembled and his adrenalin burned in his gut.
They moved as a unit and had almost reached the jeep when Jez made his move. He shambled forward, got between the rearguards and bumped into one. Profusely, he apologized and brought a hand to the rim of his fedora. The irritated soldier took an over-zealous grip and moved him to one side.
Recognizing Jez as a regular nuisance, the rest of the group turned away. But their ranks had been broken and Jez pulled his pistol. In a flash he came between the disjointed pair and pressed the gun hard into Mitrokhin’s neck.
“Mitrokhin,” he yelled, “Mitrokhin!” His arm trembled. “Turn around and face me, Mitrokhin. Tell the guards to put their weapons on the ground and turn around – NOW!”
The captain faced him and Jez forced the barrel hard into his gullet. He eased his head back so he could speak. “Put your weapons down,” he croaked.
The guards obeyed the command, gently put their rifles on the ground and then the front two joined those in the rear. The situation felt secure, so Jez pushed Mitrokhin away.
Mitrokhin raised an eyebrow and, for some reason only he could possibly fathom, appeared surprised. “Kornfeld, please,” he pleaded, in a tone more fitting to a confessional. “You know you can still get out of this. You have me cold. I’ll admit to what I’ve done. Just don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
“Regret, please; do you really believe you can kill Anna and Viktor, the most precious people in my life, and then still barter?”
His face scrunched. “What? No, I killed Sharansky, yes, you already knew. But as far as I know about Puchinsky… you killed her.”
Confusion was rife. Why admit to one murder and not the other? And Mitrokhin appeared as baffled to hear the accusation as Jez was to hear the response. But if Mitrokhin hadn’t killed Anna, then who had? Uncertainty ensued. If Mitrokhin hadn’t done it… then was she even dead?
Not the right time for doubt; he had to act. But what Mitrokhin had said fought with his entrenched beliefs. It had to be him who’d taken her. Yet, sly as he was, even he couldn’t have given such a genuine response. Jez’s already unsteady arm dropped a little.
Mitrokhin took a step towards him. Jez responded mechanically. This wasn’t how he’d wanted it. Mitrokhin was supposed to grovel in fear and die as he begged for mercy. But no, Jez straightened his arm and fired.
Mitrokhin went onto his back foot and his face screwed in horror. Blood pumped from his chest and he brought up both hands to cover the wound. He shook his head in disbelief, whimpered as he tried to turn away. Jez put a bullet in the side of Mitrokhin’s knee and the leg folded like a snapped matchstick. The guards shuffled nervously and must have wondered if it was their turn next.
“No, no,” Mitrokhin cried. “Not like this. You don’t understand, my mother needs m... no!”
Mitrokhin stared down at the blood that seeped through his fingers and dropped back onto one buttock. He cried, begging for mercy. “My mother… I must… you must see, please.”
He attempted to turn to crawl away. Jez kicked him and Mitrokhin looked back, his face masked in terror. Terror! Close enough to plan, he squeezed off another shot and Mitrokhin’s eyes crossed towards the crater-like hole that now yawned in the center of his forehead. He fell and struck the concrete face down as the shot spun him round. A ragged hole was exposed in the back of his head where the bullet had blown through. At last, Jez felt his bloodlust sated. His nemesis was dead.
Overwhelmed with relief, exhaustion set in. Boots scuffed and one guard’s movement caught his eye. Jez stared without emotion. The soldiers seemed unsure of what happens next. Other than the three bullets he’d spent on Mitrokhin, he had a full magazine. He could fire a shot into each of them, use the jeep, change appearance and disappear from the collective. But what were they guilty of? They were just soldiers.
And what of Anna, what had happened to Anna? Was his mission yet unfinished, and his new task was to find his love? New possibilities raced and burned in his brain. Too many thoughts, too much confusion, his arm relaxed to his side. Then, even knowing a professional should put such thoughts on hold for later, he allowed the daring of the guards to increase. But he was numb to all and his hold on his gun grip went limp. The weapon fell from his hand and he watched it clatter to the ground. By the time it had come to rest, the guards’ courage was redoubled and their twitches changed to an all-out charge as they rushed to their rifles.
With guns raised shoulder high, the soldiers came at him. The first strike hit him in the nose and a searing pain jolted him. More blows rained down on him, but the pain lessened and his frame fell weightlessly down as his mind spiraled upward. Consciousness hurtled through stellar light and stars flew past on either side. He jettisoned onward, beyond the constellations and into the heavens.
The heavens, could Poppa have been right after all? Could there be a heaven? For the first time in what seemed a lifetime, anger faded and peace stepped into its shoes. Even thoughts of Anna dimmed, and just before the absolute blackness engulfed his spirit, a moment of euphoria elated him.
Epilogue
1
Siberia, Northern Russia
Jez fought for control of his movements, but could only flicker his eyelids. Take a moment, he told himself, calm down. He eased his body and his head sank back into a pillow. A pillow, but he was on the hard concrete of Dzerzhinski Square – wasn’t he?
But if he wasn’t, where was he? And had he killed Mitrokhin? Maybe his mind had played some kind of cruel joke. Had he endured so much torture from Smersh that he’d hallucinated and was still a prisoner in a KGB cell?
Alarm descended and he couldn’t feel certain – of anything. He needed to compose himself, think rationally. Go through what had happened one step at a time. But that brought more doubt. The guards had just attacked him, so there should be a lot more hurt than he felt.
Again he tried to open his eyes. Facial muscles tensed, but this time his eyeballs rolled back into the dark side of their sockets. In desperation, he turned his frustration into a tool to assist with his fight for control and a steady light became apparent.
No shapes, just light that shone through a window beyond the foot of where he lay, but a blurred interference occasionally moved across his vision. And then the light brightened, stabbing his eyes, and his ears became infested with white noise. He closed his eyes to obliterate the light; tried mentally to shut his ears.
A window, he’d seen a window. That alone proved he wasn’t in a Lubyanka cell: they didn’t have windows. He heard a whistle: maybe his chest, but he’d never wheezed in his life. A few blows to the head wouldn’t cause that sort of trauma. Shockwaves flooded his mind and he panicked. His eyes opened and the blur cleared a little. People hovered over him, and he heard murmurs of excitement. The crowded muttering stopped and a single voice spoke out.
“Lieutenant Kornfeld, take it easy.”
Relief came as he regained a little sanity. A man’s voice, he’d heard a man’s voice and understood what it had said.
“Is he okay?”
A female voice responded. “It’s too early for predictions, but at least he’s regained consciousness.”
He wasn’t in a KGB cell. But if he had killed Mitrokhin, why should they be concerned for his well-being? Too many thoughts, too few of them understood, panic gripped and he lost control.
The female voice sounded alarmed. “He’s going into spasm. I’ll have to give him a sedative. He’s young, at his peak, but his terror… if his heart races any faster… I can’t take the risk. He’s been exposed to consciousness, if he comes around again he’ll be calmer.”
No! No! He needed to know what had happened. Too late, the hypodermic needle pierced his flesh and the fluid forced its way into his vein. Logic deserted him, the drug took its effect and in moments he’d drifted back into unconsciousness.
*
Awareness returned and his brain tried to break out from his skull. His mouth had turned viscou
s from dehydration and his head beat like a drum. He saw the outline of a woman and her voice came kindly to him. “Ah, Jez, great, you’re back. Just hang in for a moment.”
She moved away and two people came back with her, one a blur of a man in a white smock coat, the other a large uniformed figure – equally blurred. The smock man checked various parts of Jez’s anatomy while the soldier leaned over him.
“Kornfeld, can you understand me?”
Jez squinted: it was General Petrichova, but his face wavered as if under water.
“Yes, General…can hear…but…mind…thought Mitrokhin…don’t understand...killed…”
He listened to his words croak from his throat and the effort exhausted him.
“Don’t worry, you’re not losing your mind, and yes, you did kill Mitrokhin.”
The general spoke without emotion but the words couldn’t have been warmer. Mitrokhin was dead.
“You’re in an abandoned gulag in Northern Russia. It’s been converted into a military camp and you’re in the hospital wing.”
“Don’t …”
“Then listen, you know my ideals and you knew why I had you developed. I know that in Minsk, Ca…Lieutenant Puchinsky told you I had the same plan outlined for her. Also, while you were with her, I investigated what she’d reported back.”
The general moved out of the nurse’s way and shuffled around until he decided to sit on the bed.
“It was clear from your investigation and other investigations already underway that the infrastructure of the Soviet Union had become riddled with corruption – and up to the highest level.”
Through bleary eyes, Jez saw Petrichova’s face grimace.
“I’ve realized for some time that the communist dream has failed and that the course on which it’s headed won’t change. But with that knowledge, I made a pledge to stand up for what I believe, so I started my own crusade for justice. The state will never go back to the way it was or become the way it was meant to be, but with the privilege of rank I can do something in the fight against corruption.
“As far as you’re concerned, Jezer Kornfeld is officially dead. His records have been updated and filed away. All identification has been replaced with that of someone who died on the front line in the Great War. There is no evidence on record to tie you in with who you were. All facts retrieved from the assassinations have disappeared, and now through the efforts of your comrade Leo you are officially Jez Kord. However, all that can yet be undone, but… another time.”
Jez’s thoughts lifted and dropped. Did it really matter without Anna?
“As an aside, it might interest you to know that when I looked into the case against Jacob and Leo I found they were never dismissed. Mitrokhin had manipulated the situation to make it look that way to them. This was one reason why Leo was never stopped entry to his office, and why Jacob had access to various account activities when he channeled Mitrokhin’s money. Of course, both men were naïve enough to accept what they were told.” Jez was genuinely happy for his comrades. They were good people.
The general cheerily drummed his fingers on the bedrail. But too much information had put Jez’s head into a spin.
“How have you put this together so quickly?” he asked.
“Not so quickly: you’ve been in a coma for almost two months. In fact, some of the medics are surprised to see you back.”
“Two months.” Shocked, Jez now understood why he’d wheezed. “Two months in bed.”
“Yes, but hopefully you’re on the other side of it. Listen, I’m probably running this past you a bit too early, but I want you to be aware of some details of what happened. For the months before Mitrokhin’s death, you were an unwitting agent in a covert operation. The operation was unofficial and I felt, with your sense of justice, you might not go along with my plans. But I needed total commitment.”
His face became stern. The nurse fussed with tubed bags that fed some sort of liquid into his arms.
“Other than the incident with your sisters, I’ve always believed you could never lift your hand against the state. I didn’t have enough evidence to take him down legally, so…”
His face turned to granite.
“I believed, and believe, you are an honorable soldier with a balanced view of right and wrong, but I had to win you over.” His eyes dropped as he continued. “It was a cruel idea, I admit, but there was only one way I could think of doing it… I had you witness Anna being shot down.”
Bewilderment swept Jez’s mind. Blood pressurized and pain from his brain tried to explode his ears outwards. He couldn’t believe Petrichova’s words. It seemed that Anna was indeed dead and Petrichova had told him he did it – and in such a cold-hearted way. He didn’t care, other than to say it was a cruel idea: no more than a forfeit in his game.
“You killed Anna, but…” His head lifted from the pillow and his fists drew together. Black patches phased his colors. His voice trembled. “I’ll hunt you down and I’ll kill you, General, make no mistake, I will kill you.” Strength deserted him and he fell back.
“No, Kord… Kornfeld, wait, you can’t...” Petrichova’s words drifted into incoherence as the red mist in Jez’s eyes turned to a black veil. He became swamped in darkness, and faded into unconsciousness.
2
Jez drifted in and out of the darkness. But now he stirred with a more resolute determination. His body writhed and he wrestled between awareness and limbo. Then at last, his eyes opened.
Petrichova stood at the foot of the bed, like a vulture in waiting. He’d killed the only love Jez had known, and would now have the nerve to justify it. But that was impossible, and Jez’s blood built to a swell; if he had the strength, he would kill Petrichova here and now.
The general watched grim-faced and then lifted open palms to get Jez’s attention. Jez focused on him and Petrichova shifted his hands sideways. Jez veered his gaze begrudgingly and what he saw was an apparition… It couldn’t be…
“Anna…” he gasped.
She came and laid a hand to his mouth. “Quiet, just listen, Jez,” she said and sat on the bed next to him.
“I’ll give you ten minutes,” the general whispered, and ushered the medics out with him as he left.
Anna opened the window and returned to take his hand. A fragrant breeze whispered its way in, cooled the sweat on his brow and brought freshness to his face. He chewed his mouth for moisture and Anna poured water, held the glass as he drank greedily from it.
She wore a white blouse and her hair hung loose. Her fragrance was that of freshly cut flowers and he gazed into the face of his dreams, no longer caring what had gone by. His life suddenly had meaning and he overflowed with jubilation.
Anna’s face was stern. “I hope you can remember what I told you the last time we were together. I meant what I said. I would have given up my career and run away with you in the blink of an eye.”
“I remember, and I do understand the position you were in, but what I don’t understand is how I saw you shot. It’s been an image that’s haunted me – what happened?”
She smiled weakly. “We used theatrical props. I don’t suppose you remember, but I kept my hands in my pockets when we walked towards the station. I detonated blood pouches when I heard the rifle shots.”
“But a bullet ricocheted off the pavement. That was real enough. How did you do that?”
“It was practiced. Two blanks and one live round. But that was the easy part. The hard part was after Mitrokhin reported you dead.” Her face softened and tears glistened in her eyes. “The general never had doubts you’d survived, but I wasn’t so sure.” The weight of her tears broke.
He reflected back to the day of the shooting and recalled how she had all but begged him to leave with her. How could he feel vengeful now, after she’d been returned to him?
“You were willing to walk away from a career that means everything to you,” he said, “and you gave me an opportunity to walk away with you. There’s no need for apolo
gies. I would have done the same in your shoes.”
Her throat caught. “No, you wouldn’t have let any of it happen. You just have to remember Nikolas, our trainer.”
“Maybe, but no more remorse or recrimination, please, Anna. What is important is that you’re alive and we can be together.” His mind jumped. “Or can we?”
Her face went back to unyielding, but then she pressed it against his chest. “Yes, forever,” she said, almost obstinately, and he forced himself not to spoil the moment by letting her move. She was back.
The embrace lingered and the general came back in. Anna stood and brushed off non-existent dust from her skirt.
“Is it safe for me to approach, Jez?” he asked, shook his head and became serious. “Captain Puchinsky should have you up to speed. Is there anything you don’t know?”
Jez felt his eyes widen. “Well, I didn’t know Anna was a Captain.” No one answered. If they’d started coughing and looking at their feet, their embarrassment couldn’t have been clearer. He let it go. “You mentioned Leo earlier, but what of Jacob and his daughters? I made promises.”
“Safe, Jez, safe. They were reunited soon after I received the parcel from you. Anna got the girls from Beyrek Ozel, the Turk outlined in the dossier you sent. I used my people in Turkey to arrange their passage home. And of course you’ll realize that I don’t have official authority to close down the operation there. But I do have it here. With the lists of pimps you sent, we’ve eradicated the trafficking operation in the Soviet Union. The Turkish connection, however, is another story. The activity needs to be shut down and I have people working on that as I speak. There are also activities here in Russia that need attention, but that is something we need to discuss when you’re well. For the moment, it’s enough for you to know the Bernsteins are safe at the Korbet cabin.”