A Razor Wrapped in Silk

44 Porfiry surprised

Porfiry heard the door slide open on its runners. The daylight reverberated with a thunderous metallic boom, startling the contents of the storeroom with a wash of silver.

Perkhotin was bent over, coughing, a dim figure in the semidarkness. He straightened up. A curse escaped his lips and he hurtled past Porfiry and Maria, towards the light.

Porfiry released Maria, suddenly embarrassed by the position they found themselves in. ‘I must …’

‘Yes, of course.’ She looked away, abashed. The gesture was ephemeral, gone as soon as it was expressed. Porfiry felt an instant pang of nostalgia for it.

He could not look at her now. He ran towards the daylight.

Outside, he saw Fedya approaching with Virginsky and Ludwig Nobel. Perkhotin was nowhere to be seen.

The door to the munitions workshop was open.

He was just in time to see a jet of flame leap up from the floor as Perkhotin ran through it. The gunpowder dust that covered him ignited instantly. Waves of crackling fire danced over his body, chasing up his legs, consuming his torso, and covering his face.

A scream of pain and rage gurgled in his throat as he thrashed out blindly.

Porfiry called out ‘No!’ but it was too late; he was too far away to intervene.

Perkhotin tripped over a discarded casting mould and fell against the great vat of molten iron that had been left dangling on its chains by the evacuated workmen.

The weight of his body tilted the vat, which would have been unbearably hot in itself.

His screams now were intense but short-lived. A flood of blazing liquid fire covered his face, sending up a plume of smoke. The sizzle of cooked meat mingled with the mineral tang of the workshop.

*

Porfiry closed the door behind him. He met Virginsky’s questioning gaze. ‘He’s dead.’

A blanket had been found for Maria Petrovna, to replace her shawl. The rigours of the experience showed in her eyes. And yet she managed a delicate, complicated smile for Porfiry.

‘What happened in there?’ said Virginsky, indicating the munitions storeroom. He took hold of Porfiry. There was an undoubted edge of sexual jealousy to Virginsky’s question.

‘I behaved rather foolishly and Maria Petrovna came to my rescue. Had it not been for her quick thinking, the storeroom would have gone up in an inferno.’

‘Well, at any rate, it is over now. You are safe.’

Virginsky’s dismissiveness offended Porfiry. ‘If you will permit me, I wish to talk to the young lady who saved my life.’

Virginsky bowed and released Porfiry.

Her eyes darted frantically, as if they wished to escape from his approach.

‘Don’t say anything.’ Her smile had an edge of panic to it. She seemed for a moment very young.

‘In the darkness …’ It surprised me. The strength of feeling. I think perhaps it was the effect of the darkness.’

‘I beg you, Porfiry Petrovich. Say no more.’

‘I have been surprised.’

‘Yes.’

‘We are alive! That is the thing that surprises me most.’

‘It is good to be surprised by life.’ At last she looked up and met his gaze. Her smile was consoling and indulgent, but still not quite all that he had hoped for.

Even so, he could not stem the flow of words. ‘Oh yes, infinitely good. I have been surprised by death too often. My heart … I feel my heart has opened.’

And now her smile was complicated by regret.

Porfiry felt a wave of sickening disappointment. ‘Apollon Mikhailovich met with a terrible accident,’ he said. ‘I do not advise you to view the body.’ He bowed tersely and turned from her.

‘Porfiry!’

He swivelled back to face her.

‘Please.’ Her face was crumpled in despair, slicked with tears. ‘I am sorry. You must understand, it cannot be. We cannot be. What happened must remain back there.’

‘I quite agree. You have your life. The school. The children. I have mine. My work is everything to me. Thank you for reminding me. You must find it in your heart to forgive a foolish old man. I was momentarily overcome … by … by my surprise. Good day, Maria Petrovna.’ He bowed and turned from her again.

He was aware of Virginsky staring into his face, with a strange, intent fascination. And around him, the sounds of industry started up, as the Nobel Metalworking Plant returned to work.