'Goodbye, Yuri.'
'They are not worthy of you, that scum,' said Rudakov quietly. i know who is worth friendship, I know seven hundred who are my friends. Let me know you, too, as a friend.'
'I will do it myself.'
'Goodbye.'
Holly turned to walk back to the Kitchen. Behind him, fading, was the brisk step of Rudakov across the snow.
Images cascaded in his mind.
There was a couple who grew old in a small house in a narrow street in a country that could never be their own.
There was a factory in London where the work-force in their overalls would have lost the habit of wondering aloud whatever happened to the tall one who went to Moscow.
There was a pub behind the Elephant and Castle where the bar space would be cramped with men taking a beer and a sandwich before the train journey home, where two stools at a window table would be taken by an executive and his secretary, and neither would know of a promise that was given.
There was a man who worked high in Century House, with a view of the evening river, who would have a new set of files on his desk and a new set of clients at the end of his telephone.
There was a diplomat snug now in his Moscow flat who would tell a prisoner to live within the system, not to kick it, not to fight it.
There was a girl standing on a train, tired from eight hours at a Building Society's typewriter, a lovely girl who had been misused.
Such were the images in the mind of Michael Holly.
None of them relevant. Everything important was holed up in the stench of death and pain in the Kitchen hall. Where else would you find such men, Holly? Where else but in the Kitchen hall of ZhKh 385/3/1. All the filth, all the trash. All the friends of Michael Holly. They would never be forgotten.
For a moment Holly paused at the doorway of the Store.
One dead, two alive. He saw the gleam of the cartridge cases set neatly in their belt.
'You won't need the gun any more… Trust me.'
The Colonel General waited at the gates for Rudakov.
'They are coming out?'
'I want one hour.'
'Why?'
'You can mortar the compound, you can flatten what little is left of it, you can kill all of them. Give me an hour, please…'
'What did he say?'
'Colonel General, I want an hour, an hour of cease-fire.
You will see then what he said.'
'I can order you to tell me.'
'I ask you not to order me. I ask for an hour.'
The Colonel General looked down at the snow slush by his boots. 'You, too, he has trapped you, too. He is a persuasive man. You have your hour. One hour only, then the mortars, then I go in with the infantry.'
'Thank you.'
Kypov sat alone in his office with the telephone pressed hard against his ear.
'… I can only repeat what I have already told you, the position has stabilized, the perimeter is secure… I won't accept that… I don't give a shit what it looks like from Moscow… Yes, yes, 111 tell the Procurator, I'll tell him just that. First thing in the morning he can hear it, that I don't give a shit what it looks like from Moscow… Yes, yes, it will be finished by the time that he gets here… Don't talk to me about casualties. Any time you want me to hand over command, it's your decision. I understand your feelings. I would remind you that for two and a half years under my command the camp was a model of efficiency and discipline.
It's only been in the last month…'
He slammed down the telephone.
The bastard hadn't even heard him out. Just the screech of a dead line in his ear.
He looked around his new office. He would be able to pack everything that was personal to himself inside one small briefcase. The rest would belong to his successor.
'My uniform is your authorization.' Rudakov beat his fist into the palm of his hand. He glared across the small room at the Governor of the Central Investigation Prison. 'I don't give a shit for your procedures. I've come for that prisoner, I'll take him out of here if I have to fucking manhandle him past every goon in this bastard place.'
'Your language is offensive.'
'Your behaviour is obstructive. Your behaviour will be dealt with at length in my report.'
'There is no need for threats.'
'Get him here. Now.'
Who wanted to tangle with KGB? The Governor sighed.
He pushed a blank sheet of paper across the table. i shall require a signed statement from you, Captain Rudakov, that you have taken this man into your personal custody.'
The girl sat with him. He and the girl were alone with each other on the floor, with their backs resting against the wall.
The men had shuffled away, drawn a few feet back so that Holly and Morozova had a small area to themselves. They knew. Because he is told nothing in the days and nights of his camp life, the zek is adept at reading scarce signs. When Holly sat with the girl, with no word of courage for them, then they knew their defeat. As a snake skin is shed, so the zeks let their spirit slip from their backs. A few comforted the injured at the far end of the Kitchen. Mostly they _ squatted on the floor, waiting. Waiting was their trade.
Waiting was their skill. The zeks waited, and they watched Holly and the girl.
His arm was around her, casually on her shoulder, laid without emotion.
'There is no other way?'
'No other way that I know.'
'For these people you do it?'
'They deserve it.'
'Nobody has made them such a gift before.'
'They will stand on the battleground afterwards, and it will be theirs.'
'They have never won before.'
'They deserve their victory.' if you had known that it would end this way…?'
'Feldstein asked if I would have started.'
'What did you tell him?' i told him that I would have started.'
'Afterwards… what would you have wanted of us?'
'Only that you should be a witness. Only that you should never forget.' is that all you want of me, that I am here as a witness?'
'That what you have seen you will tell, that you will never forget.'
'What has changed, Holly? Has any small thing changed today?'
'I don't k n o w… if there has been a witness, if it is always remembered, then a small thing has changed.'
'I'm cold, H o l l y… I'm frightened… you don't have to, Holly
'I have to.'
'Are you afraid?' it is their only weapon against us, that we are afraid. If we are not afraid they can never defeat us. Once we are frightened we are beaten.'
'To me, Holly, to me alone, can you not show fear?'
'Not to you, not to anyone.'
'Because you have no fear?'
Holly shuddered. His face was turned away from the girl.
The line of his teeth was set hard in the chafed lower lip, and there was a trickle of blood.
