The Bloody Meadow

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Korolev stood beside Slivka’s car on the village’s solitary street thinking back to the night before. When the lights had come on again, it had been chaos. There’d been actors and technicians, production girls and all sorts swarming into Mushkina’s cottage as soon as it was clear it was safe, and more histrionic dramatics than on a bad night at the Bolshoi. In the end, he’d had to fire a shot into the ceiling, and even then it had required a firm talking to and a reminder of his duty as a loyal Pioneer to persuade young Riakov to leave.

After that, it had been a question of waiting until reinforcements arrived and adding up the butcher’s bill. Mushkin had caught a bullet in the chest and was dead, his face a mask of pain – and Korolev couldn’t help thinking it was the knowledge that his mother had probably fired the bullet more than the injury. Blumkin and Mushkina were both clinging to life and had been ambulanced to the care of Dr Peskov’s colleagues at the university hospital in Odessa, along with the concussed Sharapov. Damienko had emerged from his hiding place uninjured but terrified and was now sitting in a cell in the Militia station, not twenty metres away from where Slivka and Korolev were standing, having a mysterious conversation with the newly arrived Colonel Rodinov.

Snow had fallen throughout the night and most of the morning and it had pushed up against the walls of the village in deep drifts. Korolev, after all the excitement of the previous days, was utterly exhausted. He rubbed his hands together and stamped his feet to try and revive the circulation.

‘He’s taking his time,’ he said, turning to Slivka.

‘I wonder why he wanted to talk to him.’

‘Best not to ask, and even better not to know,’ Korolev answered. He’d spoken to Rodinov the night before, immediately after the gunfight in Mushkina’s cottage, and a lengthy silence had followed his report of the events that had taken place.

‘This Damienko fellow – you said he looked as though he’d handled a gun before.’

‘Yes,’ Korolev had answered. ‘A soldier at some stage, I’d imagine. I haven’t asked him yet – I thought I’d speak to you first.’

‘Good. Hold him at the village station. Have that pathologist fellow of yours take Les Pins and Mushkin into his morgue – but not under their own names. I’ll talk to Colonel Marchuk to make arrangements. This fellow Blumkin – what is his condition?’

‘Conscious. More than that I can’t say.’

‘And Mushkina?’

‘She took a few bullets.’ Omitting to mention that they’d come from Slivka and himself. ‘She’s not talking much, but she’s tough.’

‘And you really think she shot Mushkin?’

‘It looks that way. It wasn’t me and Damienko’s gun wasn’t fired. It could have been Blumkin, but my money would be on Mushkina.’

‘A husband and a son,’ Rodinov said, and there was a note of admiration in his voice. Korolev made no comment. It wasn’t the kind of statement that required one.

‘He was loyal all along – Mushkin, that is. You know that now, don’t you? He even had suspicions about his mother, but I didn’t believe him. I thought his exhaustion was playing tricks on him.’

‘I see it now. I had my doubts.’

‘He had his doubts about you as well, Korolev.’

‘Yes, Comrade Colonel.’

‘But you got the job done between you.’

‘I hope so, Comrade Colonel.’

‘The guns are safe, and most of the conspirators in custody – I’d say you completed the task assigned to you. But what happens to them now you don’t need to bother about.’

‘As you say, Comrade Colonel.’

There was a pause that reminded Korolev, yet again, of the precariousness of his situation. He opened his mouth to say something, but what could he say? After a few moments, Rodinov spoke again. The voice was slow and deliberate, each word weighted with menace.

‘You said the film people thought it was a terrorist attack.’

‘That was their initial reaction.’

‘Don’t disagree with that explanation, Korolev. Tell them the matter is still under investigation. Where possible, encourage them in their belief but without confirming it. Understood?’

‘Of course, Comrade Colonel,’ Korolev replied.

There was another pause.

‘No one, including you, is to speak to this Damienko until I arrive. The same applies to Mushkina and Blumkin. I will talk to Petrenko and Marchuk to ensure this happens, but this instruction applies to you more than anyone. Just in case you were to become confused about the extent of your responsibilities in the meantime, this matter is now in my hands – no one else’s. Is that clear?’

It was clear enough, and Korolev had followed the colonel’s instructions to the letter – to the extent that now he and Slivka stood in the snow, stamping their feet to keep warm and uncomfortable under the close inspection of the four goons who’d come with the colonel from Moscow. Hard men, young, hungry – looking like hunting dogs waiting for an order from their master.

‘I hope that’s it,’ Slivka said, breaking the silence. Korolev turned to find her looking up at the sky.

‘What?’ he asked, curious.

‘The winter. I hope that’s it finished now. That we can leave it behind us at last.’

‘Yes,’ Korolev said, a little distracted. ‘The spring is always welcome.’

Their attention was diverted by the sound of the door to the Militia station closing. Rodinov stood in front, pulling on his gloves.

‘Korolev?’ he said, looking around the village for a moment, as if to remember it for ever. Korolev raised his hand to his hat in salute.

‘Come with me.’

Korolev followed the colonel to his car, its engine still running. At Rodinov’s invitation he joined him in the back seat.

‘Well, Korolev. You did a good job.’

‘Thank you, Comrade Colonel.’

‘Don’t thank me, thank Comrade Ezhov. He’s pleased with how things have turned out and wants you to know it.’

‘I’m grateful for that.’

‘You should be. Of course there are a few matters that still need to be resolved, and that’s what I’m here to do.’

‘I see,’ Korolev said quietly, wondering if he was one of them.

‘Yes.’ The colonel took off one of his gloves and examined his fingernails. ‘A little tidying up is called for. So I will now tell you what exactly happened here over the last few days, in case you become confused when you read about it in the newspapers. Are you listening carefully?’

‘Yes, Comrade Colonel.’ Korolev tried to make sure his face was devoid of any indications that could be construed as confusion, although his mind was racing.

‘What happened is this,’ Rodinov continued, not looking at Korolev and speaking as though to an invisible audience. ‘A young comrade, the late Maria Lenskaya, beautiful, dedicated and utterly loyal to the Soviet State, came across her estranged father – the traitor Andreychuk – whom she knew to be a former Petlyurist officer and suspected of being an active counter-revolutionary. The rat didn’t recognize her and so she was able to observe him behaving suspiciously – we’ll fill in the exact details later on. It helps, of course, that he was involved in such activities.’

He glanced at Korolev, as if looking for approval, and so Korolev nodded, beginning to understand.

‘Alerted to his evil intentions, she informed Comrades Mushkina and Les Pins about her fears and, under Mushkina’s direction, Lenskaya and Les Pins, together with Comrade Lomatkin, I think, infiltrated a conspiracy to create an independent Petlyurist state in the Ukraine – with German backing. With me so far?’

Korolev nodded again.

‘Very good. The conspiracy was led by that fellow Damienko, a Ukrainian exile who had returned to the country from – ’ the colonel paused to think – ‘Budapest. Fortunately the efforts of Comrade Lenskaya and her fellow loyal Party members to bring the conspirators to justice were ultimately successful and resulted in the seizure of a large quantity of weapons and the death and arrest of all the conspirators, but at a terrible price. Comrades Mushkina, Les Pins and Lenskaya laid down their lives so that the Revolution might be preserved. They have joined the pantheon of Bolshevik heroes, along with Militiamen Gradov and Blumkin, of course. And we should never forget Major Mushkin. Especially not Major Mushkin. A Chekist hero of the highest valour. I shouldn’t be surprised if his mother and he weren’t buried in the Kremlin wall itself. Oh, and that journalist Lomatkin. He was a hero as well.’

‘All of their lives?’ Korolev couldn’t stop himself from asking the question; as far as he knew Blumkin, Mushkina and Lomatkin were still alive.

‘Yes,’ Rodinov said, drawing a finger languidly down the fogged-up window beside him. ‘All of them. Their selfless sacrifices for the Socialist Motherland will be an example to us all. They will be awarded the highest honours, of course. Posthumously.’

Rodinov seemed lost in thought for a moment and Korolev sensed his own fate was hanging by the narrowest of threads.

‘Which brings us to you and Sergeant Slivka.’

‘We’re happy to do our duty, as you direct.’

‘I don’t doubt it. Slivka is a Party member?’

‘Komsomol, I believe.’

‘I see, but you aren’t – isn’t that right?’ The colonel’s eyes were boring into him now, but Korolev sensed no hostility as such – not yet, at any event. He hesitated, considering how best to respond.

‘I’ve never thought myself worthy of being considered for an active political role in the Revolution, Comrade Colonel.’ Korolev spoke carefully.

‘Yes, I think you should focus on what you are good at, Korolev – digging out answers for people like me.’

There was a hint of irony in the colonel’s voice, but there was no trace of it in his expression.

‘You, Korolev,’ he said after another pause, ‘you will go back to Moscow and resume your duties.’

Korolev felt relief well up in him, but the colonel wasn’t finished.

‘I understand there are vacancies in Moscow CID that haven’t been filled. Semionov was a junior lieutenant, wasn’t he?’

‘That was his Militia rank.’

‘Then we shall promote Sergeant Slivka. You work well together. I’ll explain it to your chief. You may give her the good news. The People’s Commissar believes you may be of use to him again, sometime in the future.’

‘Thank you, Comrade Colonel.’

The colonel waved a hand in acknowledgement.

‘Now these forensics men you worked with – are they reliable?’

‘I put my life in their hands, Comrade Colonel. And they came through.’

‘Well, we shall look after them as well.’

Korolev’s face must have revealed his fears because Rodinov raised a reassuring hand.

‘Don’t worry, Korolev, they served the State loyally – they have nothing to fear.’ Rodinov’s expression was still cold, but Korolev sensed that the danger had passed. ‘What did I tell you again and again during this investigation, Korolev?’

‘That discretion was vital, Comrade Colonel.’

‘Be sure your new colleague knows it as well as you do. The Party is grateful for your contributions to the successful outcome of this matter, but you must never speak of it again.’

‘I understand.’

Rodinov studied him. ‘You have a son, Korolev, haven’t you?’ he said in a detached voice.

‘Yes. He’s eleven now.’

‘He lives in Zagorsk, doesn’t he?’

Korolev said nothing, fear paralysing his vocal cords, wondering how Rodinov knew about Yuri, and whether the threat in the question was intended, and then certain beyond doubt that it had been. He found himself trying to swallow, but there was no saliva in his mouth, wondering should he say something, assert his complete reliability, his devoted loyalty to the Party, his dedication to the revolutionary cause, but instead he just looked into the colonel’s cold eyes and kept his face as expressionless as he could.

‘You still have ten days before you need to be back at work, Korolev. Go and visit the young lad. The permits will be arranged for you. You deserve it.’

A few moments later Korolev found himself outside in the sun, in something of a daze, the freezing air sharp on his face and unexpected tears icy on his cheek. He turned away from Rodinov’s car and walked towards the Orlov House, his feet moving of their own accord and his mind not concentrating on anything much except the fact that he’d made it through this mess after all and that he’d be seeing his son. His glance fell on the ruined church and for an insane moment he found himself walking towards it, fully intent on going inside to thank the Lord for his good fortune.

But instead he pulled a hand across his eyes to dry them and then over his unshaven chin, and felt the tiredness of the last few days like a weight on his back, and with the last of his energy he turned, smiling at Slivka as he walked back towards her.