The Secret Speech

— You were driving the truck?

— Yes, sir.

— I’m Abel Prezent. Have we met?

Leo couldn’t be sure that every officer didn’t meet Prezent at one stage or another, but he was unlikely to remember every guard:

— Briefly, sir.

They shook hands.

— I apologize for firing on you. But with no communication, we were forced to consider you a threat.

Leo didn’t need to fake his indignation:

— The prisoners lied. They claimed to have spoken to you.

— They’ll soon get their comeuppance.

— If it’s of any use, I can detail the prisoners’ defenses. I can mark their positions…

The prisoners hadn’t made any defenses, but Leo thought it prudent to seem helpful. However, the regional director shook his head:

— That won’t be necessary.

He checked his watch.

— Come with me.

Unable to get away, Leo had no choice but to follow.

Leaving the cover of the canopy, Abel Prezent looked up to the sky. Leo followed the direction of his gaze. The sky was empty. After a moment Leo heard a distant humming noise. Prezent explained:

— There was never any question of negotiating. We risk anarchy if their demands were met. Every camp would start a revolution of its own. No matter what they say in Moscow, we must not allow ourselves to become soft.

The humming grew louder and louder until a plane roared over the plateau, flying low, the numbers on its steel belly visible as it passed directly overhead, leveling out on a course toward Gulag 57. It was a Tupolev Tu-4, an aging bomber reverse-engineered from the American Superfortress planes — four propeller engines, a forty- meter wingspan, and a fat silver cylindrical frame. On a direct approach, the underside hatch opened. They were going to bomb the base.

Before Leo had a chance to question the decision, a large rectangular object fell from the hatch, a parachute opening immediately. The Tu-4 veered up, climbing sharply to clear the mountain while the bomb swung through the sky, rocking on its parachute, perfectly positioned, guided into the center of the camp. It drifted out of sight, landing, the parachute spreading across the roof of a barracks. There was no explosion, no firestorm: something had gone wrong. The bomb hadn’t detonated. Relieved, Leo checked on the regional director, expecting him to be furious. Instead he seemed smug:

— They requested food. We have given them a crate containing the kind of food they haven’t seen in years, tinned fruit, meats, sweets. They will eat like pigs. Except we have added a little something…

— The food is poisoned? They’ll make the guards eat it first.

— The food is laced with a toxin. In six hours they’ll fall unconscious. In ten hours they’ll be dead. It doesn’t matter if they test it on the guards. There are no immediate symptoms. In eight hours we’ll storm the camp, injecting our fellow guards with the antidote and leaving the rioters to die. Even if every prisoner doesn’t try the food, most will and the number of prisoners will be heavily depleted. We must resolve this revolution before Moscow and her spies start to interfere.

There was no doubt in Leo’s mind: this was the man who had ordered Timur’s death. Barely containing his anger, he remarked:

— An excellent plan, sir.

Prezent nodded, smirking at his murderous ingenuity. He thought so too.

Dismissed, Leo returned through the command headquarters to the truck. He reached the cabin, climbing in, feeling the same rage he’d experienced upon seeing Timur’s watch. He looked out of the smashed window in the direction of Abel Prezent. They had to leave now. This was their only chance. Everyone was preoccupied with the plane. Yet he couldn’t — he couldn’t allow Prezent to get away with it. He opened the cabin door. Georgi grabbed his arm:

— Where are you going?

— There’s something I have to take care of.

Georgi shook his head:

— We need to go now, while they’re distracted.

— This won’t take long.

— What do you have to do?

— That’s my concern.

— It is ours too.

— That man murdered my friend.

Leo pulled free. But Lazar leaned across, taking Leo’s arm, indicating that he wanted to speak. Leo lowered his ear, Lazar whispered:

— People don’t always get… what they deserve…

With those faint words, Leo’s indignation was extinguished. He dropped his head, accepting this truth. He hadn’t come here for revenge. He’d come here for Zoya. Timur had died for Zoya. They had to leave now. Abel Prezent would get away with murder.

SAME DAY

THE SHADOW CAST BY THE MOUNTAIN enveloped Gulag 57, stretching across the plateau, reaching out toward the temporary military encampment. Abel Prezent checked his watch: the toxin would be taking effect very soon; prisoners would be falling unconscious. They’d timed it carefully. At night, no one in the camp would think it odd that prisoners were tired. Before their suspicions were aroused the ground troops would advance, unseen, cutting through the fence and regaining control. The prisoners would be killed, except for a token number necessary to fend off accusations of a massacre. News of the success would spread through the region. Every other camp would receive the clear message that the riot had failed and that the Gulags were here to stay, that they were not the past — that they were part of the future, that they would always be part of their future.

— Excuse me, sir?

A bedraggled guard stood before him.

— I was on the truck, from Gulag 57. I’m one of the injured officers they released.

The man’s arm was bandaged. Abel smiled condescendingly:

— Why aren’t you in the medical tent?

— I faked my injuries to get on board the truck. I’m not seriously hurt. The doctor says I’m fit to report for duty.

— You needn’t worry about your comrades. We’ll be launching our rescue soon.

Abel was about to move away. The man persisted:

— Sir, it wasn’t about them. It was about the three men driving the truck.

SAME DAY