Four puffs of smoke appeared on the horizon.
Unable to accelerate across the tundra, Leo had no other option except to hold the truck steady and hope. He imagined the shells arcing in the air, rushing up, then whistling down toward them. Time seemed to stretch-a second becoming a minute-and then the explosions sounded out.
The truck was still bumping along. Glancing in the mirror, Leo saw four columns of dust rising behind the truck. He smiled:
– We’re under their range!
He hammered the steering wheel in relief:
– We’re too close!
The relief melted away. Up ahead, at the edge of the temporary encampment, two tanks rotated their turrets toward them.
The nearest tank fired, an orange burst. Leo’s body involuntarily tensed, the air sucked out of his lungs. But there was no explosion-in the side mirror he saw the shell had ripped through the truck’s tarpaulin and exited the other side. The gunner would not make the same mistake twice, directing the next shell at the steel cabin where it was sure to detonate. Leo punched the brakes. The truck stopped. He threw open the door, climbing up onto the roof of the cabin, taking off his jacket, waving, shouting:
– I’m one of you!
Simultaneously both tanks lurched forward, their caterpillar tracks splintering across the tundra. Leo remained on the top of the cabin, waving his uniform from side to side. Less than a hundred meters away one tank came to a halt. The hatch opened. The tank operator peered out, mounted machine gun at the ready. He called out:
– Who are you?
– I’m a guard. I’ve got wounded officers in the back.
– Why didn’t you radio?
– The prisoners told us they had. They told us they’d spoken to you. They tricked us! They tricked you! They wanted you to kill your own men.
The second tank circled the rear of the truck, its turret aimed squarely at the occupants. The wounded guards pointed to their uniforms. The hatch of the second tank opened, the operator calling out:
– All clear!
AT THE PERIMETER of the temporary military encampment Leo stopped the truck. The injured were unloaded, carried to a medical tent. Once the last man was helped off, Leo would start the engine and drive down the highway, back toward the port of Magadan. The back of the truck was empty. They were ready to go. Georgi tapped his arm. A soldier was approaching:
– Are you the ranking officer?
– Yes.
– The director wants to speak with you. Come with me.
Leo indicated that Lazar and Georgi remain in the truck.
The command center was under a snow-camouflage canopy. Senior officers surveyed the plateau with binoculars. Detailed maps of the region were spread out, blueprints of the camp. A gaunt, sick-looking man greeted Leo:
– 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.
