The Twelfth Department

CHAPTER TWO

It was strange to spend a night with another human being so close by, and periodically Korolev found himself waking, just about, and listening-though for what, he couldn’t quite remember at first. A dark silence surrounded him. Then, his ears attuning, he might hear a car’s engine a few streets away, or perhaps some mysterious metallic grinding from down near the river, or a late-night walker’s footsteps. Nothing unusual, in other words. It was like that, Moscow-it moved around in its sleep.

Finally, however, Korolev would detect the quiet rhythm of Yuri’s breathing only feet away. The boy was sleeping on a borrowed couch on the other side of the bedroom and Korolev felt a warm happiness at his proximity. But even in his half-awake state, he remembered that all wasn’t well. Yuri had cheered up when they’d come back to the apartment, but until then-well-he’d been strange and silent. And, remembering that, worry would gnaw away at Korolev-until he slipped back into unconsciousness once again.

How he found himself lying beside Valentina Nikolayevna, looking across at her sleeping face, he wasn’t sure. Her hair was spread across the pillow like an angel’s halo-never had she looked so beautiful. Her lips opened slightly as she stirred, the blanket slipping down from her bare neck, lower and lower. Then lower still …

“Papa?”

The voice was clear, very clear, but it didn’t fit-he decided to ignore it.

“Papa?”

That voice again. He wished it would go away. If this was a dream then it was a damned good one-one he wanted to wrap tight around him like a blanket. Even now, as it seemed in danger of slipping away. But she was still there-just. Valentina, the woman with whom he shared his apartment-the woman he secretly admired. And now this perfect dream. It was hard to hold on to it, with that gentle tapping in his chest.

“Papa?”

A boy’s voice-close enough for him to feel the breath against his cheek. If he shut his eyes very tightly it would go away, no doubt of it. The important thing was to stay asleep and hold on to the dream.

“Papa, wake up.”

And it was gone. Such a dream, as well. He opened his eyes to find his son looking down at him, frowning.

“Yuri?” he said, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. “What time is it?”

Early, to judge by the flat sunlight coming through the curtains. He’d half-hoped to lounge in his bed for a change, but it seemed that wasn’t to be.

“You were groaning.”

“Was I?” Korolev said, feeling his cheeks redden.

“I thought you might be ill.”

“No, just a dream.”

“You were talking to yourself.”

Damn, he’d been talking to himself. What had he said?

“What did I say?” Korolev asked, deciding it was best he knew.

“I couldn’t make it out. You sounded in pain, though.”

“Probably just a bad dream.” Or a good one, of course. “How did you find the couch?”

“Good, I think.” Yuri looked unsure. “How did I end up in here?”

“You fell asleep while you were eating so I brought you in.”

Yuri considered this.

“I was tired from the journey.”

“You were,” Korolev said, pushing down the sheet and sitting up. He thought about that niggling worry of his and whether he should bring it up-and decided not to. There was time enough. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head. He should be fully awake for such a subject.

“Let’s get some breakfast then, and plan our day.”

“Mother said you might have to work.” Yuri’s eyes slid sideways. “She said I shouldn’t expect to see much of you.”

Korolev sat on the side of the bed and regarded his son, smiling as he did so.

“As it happens, I’ve the whole of the time off. I need to go in to Petrovka and sign some papers this morning but that won’t take more than a few minutes. And I happen to know there’s a jazz band playing in Hermitage Park, which is just across the street-we can kill two birds with one stone.”

* * *

By the time Korolev had done his morning exercises and they’d dressed, Valentina and Natasha were also up and about in the bedroom they occupied on the other side of the shared sitting room.

“Good morning,” Korolev said, the memory of his dream making him feel more than a little shifty in Valentina Nikolayevna’s presence.

“Yurochka,” Valentina said, embracing his son-the diminutive of Yuri’s name sounding surprisingly natural to Korolev, even though they’d only met the night before. “You’re awake. We were worried about you last night. You just fell forward-you’d have had a bruise if your father hadn’t caught you.”

Yuri gave her a shy smile.

“I thought it might have been the apricot cake,” Natasha said, gravely, coming into the room. “I thought Mother might have poisoned you.”

Valentina reached out a swift hand as though to cuff her only child, who giggled as she danced away.

“I’ll poison you, one of these days.”

“I thought the cake was very good,” Yuri said. “I liked it very much.”

“At last, a polite child in the house.”

“Have you been to the zoo, Yuri?” Natasha asked, clambering onto the heavy wooden table in the shared room and sitting there in the morning light, her legs swinging. She was ten-a couple of years younger than Yuri-but if he hadn’t known this to be the case, Korolev would have guessed she was the older of the two.

“Never.”

“You see, Mama. I told you. We have to take him. You must call your friend. If Yuri went back to Zagorsk without going to the greatest zoo in the world-well.”

It was clear that, in Natasha’s opinion, this would be a source of bitter shame for everyone involved

“Can I come?” Korolev asked.

“If you’re not working, of course you can,” Natasha said. “But you work all the time. Which is good, of course. The State needs hard workers.”

“I have the next six days off.”

“Six days?” Valentina said, raising her eyebrows. “Six days with no work at all?”

“I’ve got to sign some paperwork this morning-on the Gray Fox investigation. But apart from that-I’m free as a bird.”

Yuri’s eyes widened.

“The Gray Fox investigation?”

“A serious business-we captured the leader yesterday.”

“He was a murderer,” Natasha told Yuri, lowering her voice. “And a bank robber. They called him ‘Needle’ because he killed seven men with an ice pick.”

“A bank robber?” Yuri asked, looking to Korolev for confirmation.

“Only one bank. Mostly post offices and factory safes. A tough customer-we were glad to catch up with him. I’ll tell you about it on the way to Petrovka, don’t you worry.”

“You’re taking Yuri to Petrovka?” Natasha asked. “To Militia headquarters?”

“I wasn’t going to,” Korolev said. “But I could do that. Shura said she might come up with us-there’s a concert in Hermitage Park. A jazz concert. I was going to drop Yuri and Shura off there, do my business, and join them later.”

Shura was maid to their famous neighbor, Babel the writer, and a maternal figure to many of the children in the building, as well as, strangely, Korolev. Natasha’s face was a picture of longing and Korolev was detective enough to know it wasn’t the concert she was interested in.

“Would you like to come as well?”

“To Petrovka? To visit the Moscow Criminal Investigation Division?” Natasha asked, doing her best to sound offhand-and failing. “Yes, that could be interesting. Very interesting. Will there be criminals?”

“Probably, but I’ll steer you clear of them,” Korolev said, looking to Valentina Nikolayevna-who looked amused.

“And afterward, seeing as it’s such hot weather, we could go swimming.”

“Swimming?” two young voices said in unison.

“All Pioneers have to be able to swim long and fast. I wouldn’t want you falling behind in such a thing.”

Yuri and Natasha agreed that this was something that should be avoided.

“How about tomorrow morning for the zoo?” Valentina asked, making her way toward the small kitchen. “I’ll call Vera. First thing?”

“Vera works at the zoo,” Natasha explained. “No one else is there in the morning, Yuri. We’ll see things no one else has ever seen. Animals eating other animals. That sort of thing.”

Yuri looked impressed and Korolev felt relief-the children would get on, Yuri’s visit would be a great success. “Tomorrow sounds good,” he said. “First thing.”