thick brush. An ambush? His breathing quickened, the air chill in his nostrils and adrenalin surging through his veins so that he had to clench his teeth to stop them from chattering.
If whatever was up ahead was human and had a gun he’d be an easy target, but there was a wide clump of overgrown topiary that might provide an opportunity to turn the tables. He quickened his pace, reassured by the butt of the automatic warm in his palm, and then ducked and ran crouching towards the bushes, expecting bullets to whip through the branches around him at any moment.
Reaching cover, he knelt down on one knee and listened, his gun out of his pocket and the safety catch off. The fuggy smell of the inside of his coat came up to him and he stayed absolutely still, listening to the sound of someone moving carefully through the scrub, and he lifted the barrel of his gun a little higher with each approaching step.
He waited. And then the sounds stopped abruptly. They were just the other side of the dense bush, no more than ten metres away, close enough for him to be able to hear a strange snuffling noise. And then he worked it out – whoever was stalking him was laughing.
‘You can come out now, I can see you,’ Korolev said, his voice sounding a lot more confident than he felt, and the reaction was a giggle, and then the blond boy from the day before came out into the clearing, a toy rifle in his hands and a wide grin on his face. For a moment he didn’t see Korolev and that brief interval gave the shaken detective time to slip his gun back into his pocket and rearrange his features into something approaching normality. The Lord save him, he was jumping at shadows now, a wreck.
‘I thought I had you,’ the boy said, pointing his wooden gun at Korolev, ‘but you were too smart for me.’ His smile turned downwards and the rifle dipped in disappointment. The similarity to Korolev’s own son, Yuri, was as apparent as the first time he’d seen him and for a moment he wanted to take the child in his arms to comfort him, or himself, he wasn’t quite sure. He smiled at the boy and stood up.
‘You did well, Pavel, but why on earth are you sneaking around in the woods, trying to ambush innocent passers-by?’
‘Even children have to be prepared to defend the Motherland – I was practising for when the enemy comes.’
His eyes were grave under his black flat cap, dislodged snow on the peak. A button nose, the kind of clear blue eyes that only the very young have, a healthy complexion, cheeks pink with the cold. He’d make a good soldier with those eyes, thought Korolev – those eyes didn’t worry about right and wrong. Not yet, anyway.
‘Practising for the enemy, you say,’ Korolev said, putting his hands in his pockets.
‘I’ll be a sniper when I’m older and I’ll parachute behind enemy lines. When did you first spot me?’
‘About a minute ago.’
‘Not bad, not bad. I had you under observation from when you entered the wood. If I’d had a real rifle I’d have got you easily.’
‘Under observation? Where do you learn this kind of thing?’
‘In the Pioneers, of course. I’m a deputy team leader. Pavel Riakov, at your service.’
‘Korolev,’ he said, shaking the boy’s hand. ‘Alexei Dmitriyevich.’
‘The famous detective?’
‘The ordinary detective.’
‘But you’ve been sent from Moscow to investigate poor Masha’s killing and you’ve arrested Andreychuk the caretaker.’
‘Not for her murder, for something else,’ Korolev replied, wondering what Rodinov would make of the fact that even children knew why he was here. Well, at least the youngster didn’t seem to know about Ezhov.
‘I hope it isn’t for something serious.’
‘It’s up to Major Mushkin.’
‘Good. Andreychuk is a fine fellow and Major Mushkin will see that. He’s a famous Chekist himself.’
‘So I’ve heard,’ Korolev said. He remembered who the boy was now from Rodinov’s file. He was playing the lead role in the film, the young Pioneer who betrays his family to the Militia for withholding grain. The boy seemed to be able to read his mind, a proud smile forming.
‘How come you aren’t filming today?’ Korolev asked.
‘I am, but I’m not wanted for an hour. Is that where you’re going? To the filming? Are you going to make another arrest?’ His voice rose in excitement and his wide eyes shone.
‘No,’ Korolev said, shaking his head. ‘I’m just going over there to talk to a few people.’
‘I’ll show you where they are, and you should question me on the way. I knew Masha as well as anyone.’
The boy pointed him back towards the path and Korolev fell into step beside him.
‘All right, then. How about you tell me when you first met Citizen Lenskaya?’
‘That’s easy. Three months back, when I was selected. She was assisting the maestro.’
‘Comrade Savchenko?’
‘Who else? They must have called in every kid in Moscow, but I was the one chosen.’ The boy paused for a moment, his face becoming solemn again. ‘A great honour. She was nice to everybody, you know. All the kids liked her; she was a real world-class comrade.’
‘And how about here? How was she here?’
‘She was sad – she said that was just because she was busy. But she wasn’t sad in a way that made me think she might have killed herself. She was tough, a real commander. Why do you think she was killed?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. Any ideas?’
‘Counter-revolutionaries is my guess.’ The youngster offered his professional opinion. ‘We have to remain ever vigilant for those rats.’
Korolev laughed, but without much humour. ‘I don’t think so. Why would they murder her and not, say, Comrade Savchenko?’
The boy lowered his voice. ‘Perhaps she was working on a secret mission.’
Korolev looked at him, wondering whether it was just childish enthusiasm for all things heroic and dangerous, or whether the youngster knew something after all.
‘Why do you think that, young Pavel?’
‘Because she went to somewhere near Krasnogorka with Comrade Andreychuk – and that’s near the border with Romania. And she knew Comrade Ezhov as well, you know. Personally. Perhaps he asked her to help him out?’
Korolev allowed himself a bitter smirk – the boy did know about Ezhov. But leaving that aside, what the hell had the girl been doing in Krasnogorka?
‘When was this?’ he asked, keeping his voice even.
‘A week ago, I heard them talking about it.’
‘Where?’
‘On this very path, Comrade Captain. I was stalking them and I was just about to jump out at them when I heard what they were talking about, and I thought I’d better leave them to it. They sounded very serious.’
‘And you heard them say that they’d been to Krasnogorka? Together?’ And wasn’t it a coincidence that Lomatkin had not more than an hour ago been telling him how he wanted to make a visit to Krasnogorka to write some article about the Stalin Line? He’d be having another word with that journalist before the evening was out.
‘No, they were planning the trip – Andreychuk was going to drive the College’s truck and Masha was telling him they had to be very, very careful that no one found out. That it must be absolutely secret. And Andreychuk said he knew how to get there so that no one would see them. And even if they were seen, he had a pass.’
‘I see – anything else make you think they were on a secret mission?’
‘Well, another time I heard Comrade Babel ask her how Commissar Ezhov was and she said that the commissar was overworked but that she did her best to help him. So you see? She was helping him in his work in Krasnogorka. I’ve told no one except for you about this, of course. But they say Ezhov sent you down to look into the matter, so I’m guessing you know all this already.’
‘See that you carry on keeping it to yourself all the same,’ Korolev said, wincing at the thought that everyone suspected, rightly, that Ezhov was ultimately responsible for his arrival on the filmset.
‘There they are,’ the boy said, pointing at a blur of yellow light that illuminated a scattering of motor vehicles,
