the door.
Walking very slowly, listening to the sound of measured conversation, Raisa descended the stairs. She held the knife in front of her, outstretched, trembling. She reminded herself that the longer she took to kill this man, the more difficult it would become. Reaching the bottom of the stairs she saw her husband playing cards.
Vasili ordered his men to circle the house-there was no way anyone could escape. He was accompanied by fifteen officers in total. Many of them were local and he had no relationship with them. Fearful that they’d do things by the book, arrest Leo and his wife, he would have to take matters into his own hands. He’d end this here, making sure he destroyed any evidence which might mitigate in their favour. He moved forward, gun ready. Two men moved with him. He gestured for them to remain where they were.
– Give me five minutes. Unless I call for you don’t enter. Is that clear? If I’m not out in five minutes storm the house, kill everyone.
Raisa’s hand was shaking, holding the knife in front of her. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill this man. He was playing cards with her husband. Leo stepped towards her.
– I’ll do it.
– Why are you playing cards with him?
– Because he’s my brother.
Upstairs, there were screams. The little girl was screaming. There was the sound of shouting, a man’s voice. Before anyone could react Vasili appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his gun raised. He surveyed the scene. He too appeared confused, staring at the cards on the table.
– You’ve travelled a long way for a game of cards. I thought you were hunting for a so-called child-killer. Or is this part of your reformed interrogation process?
Leo had left it too late. There was no way he could kill Andrei now. If he made any sudden movement he’d be shot and Andrei would remain free. Even with his brother’s declared reason for killing-their reunion-removed, Leo didn’t believe Andrei would be able to stop. Leo had failed. He’d talked when he should’ve acted. He’d lost sight of the fact that far more people wanted him dead than his brother.
– Vasili, I need you to listen to me.
– On your knees.
– Please…
Vasili cocked his gun. Leo dropped to his knees. All he could do was obey, beg, plead, except this was the one man who wouldn’t listen, who cared about nothing other than his own personal vendetta.
– Vasili, this is important-
Vasili pressed the gun against his head.
– Raisa, kneel beside your husband, do it now!
She joined her husband, side by side, in imitation of the executions outside the barn. The gun was moved behind her head. Raisa took hold of his hand, closing her eyes. Leo shouted:
– No!
In response Vasili tapped the barrel of the gun against her head, teasing him.
– Leo…
Vasili’s voice trailed off. Raisa’s grip tightened around Leo’s hand. Seconds passed; there was silence. Nothing happened. Very slowly, Leo turned around.
The serrated blade had entered Vasili’s back and exited through his stomach. Andrei stood there, holding the knife. He’d saved his brother. He calmly picked up the knife-he hadn’t stumbled or fallen over-and he’d stabbed this man cleanly and quietly, skilfully. Andrei was happy, as happy as he’d been when they’d killed the cat together, as happy as he’d ever been in his life.
Leo stood up, taking the gun from Vasili’s hand. Blood snaked from the corner of Vasili’s mouth. He was still alive but his eyes were no longer calculating, plans were no longer being formed. He raised a hand, placing it on Leo’s shoulder, as if saying goodbye to a friend, before collapsing. This man, whose whole being had been bent on Leo’s persecution, was dead. But Leo felt neither relief nor satisfaction. All he could think about was the one task he had left to perform.
Raisa got up, standing beside Leo. Andrei remained where he was. No one did anything. Slowly, Leo raised the gun, taking aim, just above the bridge of his brother’s glasses. In the small room there was barely a foot between the barrel of the gun and his brother’s head.
A voice cried out:
– What are you doing?
Leo turned. Nadya was at the bottom of the stairs. Raisa whispered:
– Leo, we don’t have much time.
But Leo couldn’t do it. Andrei said:
– Brother, I want you to.
Raisa reached out, put her hand around Leo’s hand. Together they pulled the trigger. The gun fired, recoiled. Andrei’s head jerked back and he fell to the floor.
At the sound of the shot, armed officers stormed the house, running down the stairs. Raisa and Leo dropped the gun. The lead officer stared at the body of Vasili. Leo spoke first, his hand shaking. He pointed to Andrei-his little brother.
– This man was a murderer. Your superior officer died trying to apprehend him.
Leo picked up the black case. With no idea if his guess would prove correct, he opened it. Inside there was a glass jar lined with paper. He unscrewed the lid, tipping the contents onto the table, onto his game of cards. It was the stomach of his brother’s last victim, wrapped in an edition of Pravda. Leo added, his voice almost inaudible:
– Vasili died a hero.
As the officers moved around the table, examining this gruesome discovery, Leo stepped back. Nadya was staring at him, her father’s fury in her eyes.
Moscow
18 July
Leo stood before Major Grachev in the office where he’d refused to denounce his wife. Leo didn’t recognize the major. He hadn’t heard of him. But he wasn’t surprised that someone new was in charge. No one lasted long in the upper echelons of the State Security force and four months had passed since he’d stood here. This time there was no chance that they’d be punished with unsupervised exile or sent to the Gulags. Their executions would happen here, today.
Major Grachev said:
– Your previous superior was Major Kuzmin, a Beria appointee. Both have been arrested. Your case now falls to me.
In front of him was the battered case file confiscated in Voualsk. Grachev flicked through the pages, the photographs, the statements, the court transcripts.
– In that basement we found the remains of three stomachs, two of which had been cooked. They’d been taken from children, although we’re still trying to find out who these victims might be. You were right. Andrei Sidorov was a murderer. I’ve reviewed his background. It seems he was a collaborator with Nazi Germany and was mistakenly released back into society after the war instead of being correctly processed. That was an unpardonable error on our part. He was a Nazi agent. They sent him back with instructions to take revenge on us for our victory over the Fascists. That revenge has taken the form of these terrible attacks on our children; they targeted the very future of Communism. More than that, it was a propaganda campaign. They wanted our people to believe our society could produce such a monster when in fact he was corrupted and educated by the West, transformed by his time away from home and then returned with a poisoned, foreign heart. I notice that not one of these murders took place before the Great Patriotic War.
He paused, looking at Leo.
– Was this not your thinking?
– That was exactly my thinking, sir.
Grachev offered his hand.
– Your service to your country has been remarkable. I’ve been instructed to offer you a promotion, a higher grade of position within the State Security organs, there’s a clear route to a political role if you should want it.
