Red Winter

45

Krukov was quick. He didn’t wait to watch Stepan’s death. As soon as he fired the first shot, he swept his pistol across his body, bringing it round to aim at Artem, who was so surprised that he’d barely moved. Without wasting a second, Krukov pulled the trigger, jolting Artem’s head back as the bullet tore into his skull.

The suddenness of the gunshots unnerved the horses. They were hardened animals, all of them accustomed to the crack of gunfire, but they still moved beneath us, forcing us to bring them under control. I didn’t want Anna to see such things, but if it bothered her, she didn’t show it. She just lowered her head so she didn’t have to look, and she concentrated on controlling Tanya’s horse.

With no living riders, Stepan and Artem’s animals bolted away from us. Stepan’s forced its way between Anna and me, racing off in the direction of the izba, while the other went round us, galloping off towards the forest. I didn’t turn to watch either of them go; they were of no consequence. What mattered now were the remaining soldiers.

But none of them made a move to turn his weapon on me. Each of them settled his horse as if rider and animal shared a firm bond, and when all was still, Krukov holstered his weapon and came forward.

‘I’ve been with these men a long time, just as you had. I think I know their minds well enough to speak for all of us.’ He took a folded document from his pocket and held it out to me. ‘Whatever your reasons for leaving, there isn’t one of us who would call you unpatriotic.’

‘Never,’ said Bukharin, and the others nodded in agreement.

I took the document and unfolded it to look at the identity papers I had left on a disfigured body in Ulyanov a thousand years ago.

‘I kept them for you,’ Krukov said. ‘And these belonged to Alek.’ He passed my brother’s papers to me, but I didn’t open them. That was for another time.

He took the bag from the saddle in front of him and passed it across to me. ‘Before he died, Stepan Ivanovich was good enough to tell me that a day’s ride north from here is a ruined village called Nagai,’ he said.

I took the bag and opened it to find it filled with clothing.

‘In the forest just north of Nagai, there is a holding camp for conscripts and exiles,’ Krukov went on. It was usual for Cheka units to set up temporary camps to contain prisoners before allocation to units, deportation or transportation to labour camps. There was one such labour camp near Kaluga, but this area was much further north than I had operated as a Chekist. I was unfamiliar with the camps here.

I took the first garment out of the bag.

‘It’s my thinking that a Chekist commander could go into that camp and take away anybody he wanted.’

I looked up at Krukov.

‘For any purpose,’ he said. ‘As long as he has papers and a uniform.’

I held up the uniform and studied it for a moment. When I lowered it, Krukov and the other men were watching me.

Krukov cleared his throat and spoke again. ‘When do you want to leave?’ he asked. ‘Your men are waiting for your orders, Commander Levitsky.’