In the Kitchen Feldstein waited on Michael Holly, at the fringe of the river-flow of men. He had twice pulled Holly's elbow for attention, he had twice been rebuffed.
'They will have photographers on the Administration block. Every man, whether or not he is involved in positive action, must have torn off the name strip on his tunic…
'I want the forage caps down over men's heads, if they have a scarf they should wear it across their mouths…
'The machine-guns should stay under Huts 3 and 6, but I want a diversion rush with anything that looks like a gun to under 1 and 4. The men with most recent military experience should be involved…
'I want one man into the rafters of each hut and in the roof of the Kitchen and the Store and the Bath. I want holes in the roofing, and runners to report troop movements…
'What is it, Anatoly? No, the distribution of food is not my concern, that is for the Committee to organize… No, I am not putting a guard on the huts, that's the problem of the Committee. If they want to wreck the huts that's their concern… In a moment, Anatoly… Are we winning? Go and ask Comrade Major Kypov whether he thinks he's winning… Everything else must w a i t… After the meeting, please, after the meeting of the Committee…'
He gestured his hands to show that enough had been said.
The men around him backed away, respectful. In the corner of the Kitchen near to the Committee were the prisoners.
They sat on the floor, with their backs resting against the wall and their hands were clasped on top of their heads.
They watched for the first signs that they would be beaten, they waited for the rush of men with sticks and iron bars, they wondered whether before the night came they would be dangling from a taut rope.
'You have the prisoners. Don't play the idiot with the prisoners. With the prisoners we can show that we are not animals.'
Holly was distracted, half-listening, threading his way between the upturned tables and benches.
'How can we show that?'
'Let the prisoners go, Holly. Let them go without condition. Release them while you are at the zenith of your power.'
'Why?' it would be their way to shelter behind the backs of hostages. Only a coward covers himself with such a shield.'
'What if that shield saves us from a massacre?'
Holly had reached the table, eased himself down onto the end of a bench.
Feldstein spoke with a rare passion. 'You are a stranger, you know nothing of these people. You think they will allow a mutiny to continue because we hold one Colonel General, one helicopter crew? They don't give a shit about a human being. Look at this camp and tell me I am wrong.'
'Stay here, we'll listen to you.'
Holly turned away, the hands of the Committee reached out for him. A great gale of laughter blew amongst these men, and their hands slapped each other's backs, and the kisses smacked on their cheeks. Byrkin told how he had thrown a table-leg up into the hurricane of the down-blast, of the magic moment that he had seen the rope and the knotted blankets dragged away from the neat coil beside his feet. They laughed and they shouted and the noise echoed in the room.
'What will they do next?' Holly asked quietly, and the softness of his voice smashed through the bogus triumph.
'What any commander would do when he is beaten by an inferior force,' Byrkin said. 'He withdraws, he regroups, he waits for reinforcements, he attacks again… '
'How long?'
'Before tonight, before darkness,' said the man from Hut 4 with the mole on his nose.
'The reinforcements are available?'
'There are more than a hundred thousand men behind the wire of the Dubrovlag, from Barashevo to Pot'ma,' said the hunchback from Hut 6. 'There is a division of M V D along the railway line, there is always a regiment of regular army in reserve. They have more than a division to stamp on us.'
'A division… and we have two machine-guns… '
He sat with his back to the door of the Kitchen. He heard Poshekhonov's voice shouting the length of the Kitchen hall.
'The Chief has a visitor. A young lady has called to seethe Chief.'
She looked the length of the wrecked Kitchen, and felt like an interloper. The men who sat on the benches began to turn, and she saw the annoyance in their faces at the interruption of their debate. He was the last to turn. She saw the sunken eyes of exhaustion and the pursing of the forehead in surprise.
His face lightened. In place of strain there was the half grin of amusement. She felt she had made an idiot of herself.
'Morozova, yes?'
'I am Morozova, Irina Morozova.'
'There are more people looking for a way to leave this camp than to join it.'
'There was a hole in our fence. I came before the guards blocked i t… I don't know your name.'
'Michael Holly.'
'I wanted to thank you for what you said to m e… when I was in the SHIzo block.'
His eyes had narrowed. 'I accept your thanks. You should go back to your Zone.' it's wired now. If I wanted to I couldn't.' She tossed her head back, and her thick, black hair wavered over the collar of her tunic. She jutted her chin, she rose to her toes to add to her stature.
'The compound will be attacked this afternoon… '
'I'm going to stay.'
Holly shouted the length of the Kitchen. 'Morozova, if you stay, if you go, I don't care. This Committee is preparing to fight an army. We have two machine-guns. I haven't the time to talk. I'd like to and I can't. Go away, go away and hide yourself. Find me again after the attack, find me if I am here.'
'This is not the man who spoke to me through the walls of the SHIzo,' she shouted back in anger. it is the same man. The same man but a different moment
… ' Holly turned back to the Committee. 'Feldstein wants to say something about the prisoners.'
'I have two and a half hours more of light. I have the Procurator flying from Moscow tomorrow. I have a compound armed with two machine-guns and five hundred rounds minimum. I have a Colonel General as a hostage to inhibit me. What do I do, what do we do?'
Kypov paced the short carpet of his office. With him now were his Adjutant, and the Major who had come from Yavas and who had now assumed command of the regular Company.
'I'm not going in there against machine-guns, not without armour. And where do I find tanks? Where?'
The Adjutant had been silent. His intervention now was quietly spoken, if you were thinking of tanks, how many would you need?'
'One, but there are none in Mordovia.' said the Major.
The Adjutant was not to be deflected. 'There is one tank, on the parade ground at Yavas.' it's a T34 – a museum piece. Has it even an engine?'
'There's an engine,' Kypov said. 'They rolled it out last May Day and trundled it past the General. Bloody near choked him with all the smoke out of its arse.'
'Get it here, Major, that's my suggestion. Get it here before dusk,' said the Adjutant mildly.
The Major flipped the pages of his notebook for the number of the Duty Officer at Yavas, then reached for Kypov's telephone, banging the receiver sharply for a line.
The bolt slid back.
'Get up, Adimov.'
The very sight of the man made Rudakov feel unclean.
His dealings with the criminals were rare. This one he had not met before,
'Yes, Comrade Captain.'
Adimov watched the KGB officer with suspicion. Why should the Political Officer concern himself with Adimov?
'I have a job for you.'
'What job, Comrade Captain?'
'You are to broadcast to the camp, to tell them of the futility of further resistance. Tell them that if there is immediate return to normality only the leaders will be punished.'
'Why ask me?'
'You have influence in Hut 2.'
Adimov whined, 'You know why I went out, Comrade Captain?'
The cell stank. No slopping out that morning.
'Why?'
'My woman is in Moscow. She is dying of cancer. I went out to see her.'
'I am sorry, Adimov, believe me. Do this for me, Adimov, and there will be a rail-warrant and parole, that I promise.
And there will be a sentence review.'
'I will do it.'
Adimov and Rudakov left the SHIzo block together, a smelly zek and a Captain of KGB.
'Have there been any letters for me?' if there is one I'll get it for you.' It would cost Rudakov nothing, a small package of kindness.
Inside the Administration block, Rudakov went first to the Post Room. In the pigeon hole for 'A' there was a letter addressed in a crude, inexpert hand. They went together down the corridor where they had to edge their way past men in combat fatigues, and at the far end of the corridor was the tube of a n o m m mortar lying on a pile of four stretchers, and some of the floor space was littered with a heap of gas masks. Rudakov held Adimov by the arm, Adimov held his letter tight in his fist.
'Wait here…'
Rudakov knocked and opened the door to the Commandant's office. The officers were bent over Kypov's desk and a plan of the camp.
'Commandant, the prisoner Adimov will broadcast to the compound when you wish; he will urge surrender.'
'There's a T34 coming up from Yavas. It'll be here by four. If it's to have a wasted journey you'd better back your man up for before that. They'll have a chance to respond, after that they're blasted.'
'At five minutes to four I'll put Adimov on the loudspeakers. Will you want to address the camp yourself?'
'No.'
Rudakov stepped back out of Kypov's office. Beside him in the corridor a soldier handed back a single sheet of paper to Adimov. There were five lines of writing. Adimov gazed at him impassively.
'We'll wait in my office, we'll have some coffee,' Rudakov said. 'You'll broadcast in thirty-five minutes.' is Holly involved?' i don't know.'
Feldstein had finished, he stepped back from the table. For the first time since he had come to the camp he had spoken of his beliefs. He had preached the warfare of the turned cheek.
Now the storm burst amongst the men of the Committee.
'The Jew had no right to speak. If he wants fucking non-violence let him go and sit in the fucking SHIzo… '
'They're the only card we have. Stick them out in front, let the bastards shoot right through them… '
'We can do a trade. No reprisals for the Colonel General's life. ..'
Holly slammed his fist into the table. The words, the swearing, the hate, had sapped him. Morozova was sitting at the far end of the Kitchen talking with Poshekhonov. Silly old bugger, trying to pretend he was a big man down on the Black Sea when he was just a zek with half a regiment waiting to shoot out his guts.
His fingers tingled from the impact.
'I say they go free.' if they'd been ordered to, they would have killed you happily,' said Chernayev softly.
'You know why they have to go, Chernayev.'
'What do we gain?'
Holly struggled for the words, if we keep them and we do not use them, then there is no point in our having kept them.
If we keep them and we use them, then we are the savages that they believe us to be. If they go out, then we will never be forgotten, we will be remembered as long as the camps exist.' is that what you want, Holly, to be remembered?'
'I want all of you to be remembered. If the Colonel General goes out then the memory of you all will be burned in their minds. If you are never forgotten, the power of the Dubrovlag is broken.'
Chernayev, unfamiliar in anger, spat across the table.
'And the boy who died from dysentery, where does he fit into the scheme of memories?'
Holly surged up from the bench seat, his fist leaped the table's width, he caught at the throat of Chernayev's tunic.
'There is a man in the condemned cell at Yavas. Don't sneer at me about memories.'
Gently, Byrkin eased Holly's hand loose. 'So be it, Holly, take them to the gate.'
In a rush Feldstein came to Holly. His spindly arms were round Holly's shoulders. The girl came after him, but shyly and her hand rested hesitantly on his arm.
The clock on the wall, above the food hatch and below the broken frame of the photograph of the President, showed twenty minutes to four.
The tank had rattled out of the barracks at Yavas.
It slewed onto the main road north, skidded towards a parked car. It would take the driver several minutes to familiarize himself with the driving sticks that he had not handled for nine months.
The tank went to war ingloriously with a militia car in front, blue roof-light rotating, to clear the traffic from its path.
Old the tank might be, but not obsolete, not for putting down an insurrection. Six shells for the main armament had been scrounged from the arsenal. A machine-gun of 50mm calibre was mounted on the turret. If anything was wrong with the old monster, the driver thought, then it was the fitting of the turret hatch. The rubber sealing of the hatch had long ago rotted, it leaked and he sat in a pool of water.
But it was only nine kilometres to Barashevo, and the pack snow on the road was good for the tracks.
When they passed the station at Lesozavad, a small crowd of villagers waved to the observer in the turret and cheered the tank on its way.
" You have not behaved to us as we would have expected.'
The Colonel General moved along a line of prisoners and offered his hand as if he were a departing guest. Manicured fingers met those that were bone-thin and filthy with factory oil.
The gates opened, a gun-barrel peeped first, then a helmeted head. The gates were wide enough apart for a single man to squeeze through. The crew didn't wait, they were gone. The Colonel General was slower, as though he sought an answer that as yet eluded him. He paused in front of Holly. if you ended it now, after what you have done for me, there would be leniency.'
'You are not going through the gate because we hope for leniency.'
'I think I knew that. I will not forget you.'
'Goodbye.'
The Colonel General swung on his heel. The gates creaked as they were pushed shut. There was an emptiness now, a moment of confusion, and Holly shook himself, tried to shrug away the mood. it was the right thing. We fight them clean… '
The driver swore at the sluggish sticks as he brought the tank to a halt in front of the Major.
The Major skinned up over the track skirting and the paint-chipped armour-plate of the turret. He carried the plan of the camp in his hand.
'We have a few minutes yet before you go,' he called into the hatch. 'I want the main armament readied, one in the breech. They'll use the machine-guns against you, and you are authorized to use shell-fire against them. You'll be hatch-down, but we'll be with you on the radio. I don't want any pissing about with those machine-guns, if necessary ride right over them. As soon as they're out, the infantry goes in.
Keep on the move inside.'
'We heard they'd got a Colonel General as prisoner,' said the observer.
'They let him go.'
Astonishment from the gunner.
'Other than the machine-guns do they have any firing weapons?' the gunner.
'Two machine-guns, that's their lot.'
'Poor bastards…' The driver spoke to himself from the bowels of the tank.
'There's a queue in Hut 5,' Poshekhonov said. He laughed because Holly did not understand him. 'Hut 5 is a brothel now. That's the extent of our liberation, Holly. Home comforts for the storm troops. There's a queue half way down the hut. She wasn't the only one through the fence, you know, the little one who came to see you.'
'What have we begun?' Holly seemed to lean against Poshekhonov's shoulder.
'You should know that, Holly. Of all of us, you should know what we have begun.'
Holly's face was close to Poshekhonov's. 'Promise me something, friend.' it is not an easy time to make promises that can be honoured.'
'Promise me you will take care of the girl.'
'When?'
'When they attack.'
'Our iron man, our leader of more than seven hundred zeks, and he asks for the safety of a girl who need not have come?'
'Promise me.'
Poshekhonov tried to laugh again, but when he looked hard into Holly's face he met only the steel gaze.
'I think you care for all of us, Holly.'
'I care for all of you.'
'I promise, Holly. I will care for the girl when they attack.'
Holly punched Poshekhonov playfully on the arm and walked away.
Rudakov ushered Adimov out of his office.
Down the corridor the door to Kypov's room swung open. Rudakov saw the Colonel General follow the Commandant into the passageway. Ten minutes before, the Colonel General had been held in the camp Kitchen
…
What was happening? He forgot Adimov. He hurried down the corridor after the two men.
Kypov turned.
Rudakov looked at the Colonel General in bewilderment.
'How did it happen?'
'They let me out, myself and the flying crew.'
'Why?'
'Their leader said that if they kept us and tried to use us as a shield they would be animals. He said animals would be forgotten. He said that if they freed us they would never be forgotten, never as long as the camps exist.'
'What bloody use is it to them whether they're forgotten or not, when they're about to be mangled?'
'I don't know,' said the Colonel General drily. 'I've never led a mutiny.'
'Who is the leader?'
'They've all taken the name strips off their tunics. There is one who can be identified. Tall, darkish, speaks fluent Russian but with something of an accent.'
'Michael Holly… '
'Once the attack goes in, he's to be shot on sight,' Kypov spoke with determination, a man who had at last retrieved his respect in the anticipation of combat.
'What did you think of this Michael Holly?' A hoarseness in Rudakov's voice.
'I thought rather well of him,' the Colonel General replied. There was a light smile at his face, as if he were not prepared to share his emotions with strangers. 'They have a Central Committee, and every man on the Committee wanted either to use us as sandbags or to hang us. Of course I think well of him. He is not a man to be underestimated.'
'Get that scum of yours on the microphone,' Kypov ordered.
Inside the Guard House they found a chair for Adimov. He was sat down in front of a table, and Rudakov lifted down the microphone from the wall bracket. Adimov gripped the microphone with white knuckles. He looked round at the walls that were covered with lists and typed guard rosters and duty orders and photographs from the files of selected prisoners.
He felt Rudakov's faint tap on his shoulder.
'This is Adimov, from Hut z. You will all recognize my voice. I want to tell you to surrender. You have been misled, you have been betrayed by your leaders. In a few minutes the gates of the camp will be opened, and those of my comrades who wish to leave the camp may do so, and they will not face penalties…' He had no script to read, he spoke as Rudakov had tutored him. 'I have been told by the Comrade Political Officer that only the leaders will be punished. This is your last opportunity, I urge you to come through the gates. My friends, all of our grievances will be most thoroughly investigated. Take this cbance, walk out of the compound… '
Adimov looked over his shoulder at Rudakov, saw the nod of satisfaction. His thumb slid purposefully along the stem of the microphone as if he raised the switch from 'On' to 'Off'.
'Was that good, Captain Rudakov?'
'Excellent, Adimov.'
The voice was distorted over the loudspeakers in the Kitchen.
'And the tank attacks at four o'clock?'
'Not your concern.'
A desperate hush in the Kitchen, all eyes on the twin loudspeakers.
'And once the attack starts Holly is to be shot on sight?'
'What's it to you, Adimov?'
The words were ferried the width of the compound by the exterior loudspeakers.
Then a distant shout, harder to hear.
'The microphone's live… '
Rudakov was close to the microphone now, and screaming. There was the sound of struggling.
'Bastard, stupid shit… stupid bastard, Adimov.'
'I don't need your ticket, she's dead. The letter said she was dead. She was dead before I went o u t… '
The loudspeakers were severed. For a few seconds there was ice-cold soilness inside the compound, then the zeks were moving.
'I didn't know he had the guts,' Holly said. 'Can you deal with a tank?'
'I can deal with a tank,' Byrkin replied.