Lena was against the far wall, wet and shivering. “God damn it!”
Michalec had caught his breath. “Let’s make this simple. Just the photograph, and here she is. No one else needs to die.”
Behind Emil, Leonek was saying shit beneath his breath, repeatedly, for walking voluntarily into this deathtrap.
“How do I know I can trust you?” Emil asked, his fingers tightening on the photograph, his eyes just past Smerdyakov, on Lena’s frantic features.
Michalec’s arms dropped to his sides. “What should I tell you, Inspector? That I’m a changed man? That I’ve grown fond of you through all this? Will that make you feel better?”
“Shut up,” said Lena. Exasperated.
Leonek was easing into the door behind them, which creaked as it slid open. The German still hovered in the dark window- his pale gloves were like fireflies.
“I want to know we’ll get out of here alive,” said Emil.
Leonek slipped through the door.
“This photograph is the end,” Michalec smiled, opening his hands. “Don’t you see? We can get back to the living now.” He glanced at Lena, who looked scared against the wall, then stepped back and grabbed her arm. This time she came willingly. “Now,” he said to Emil.
The photograph was in one hand, his cane in the other. He stepped down into the water. Trash floated against his freezing ankles. As they approached the center of the square, Lena looked into Emil’s face, and when they were close he could see the expression on her face was transparent. There was something behind her fear that made him forget the icy water, and he was suddenly sure that something was going to collapse, and he would lose her. He and Michalec were very close.
“What about the colonel, then?” Emil tilted his head toward the church. “What does he get out of this?”
Michalec’s mouth came to Emil’s nose. When he whispered, the smell of onions came with the words. “The colonel and I are of use to one another. We have a gentlemen’s agreement.” He held out a hand; his fingers gripped the air.
When Michalec took the photograph, Emil didn’t let go. They held each side. “What if I turn you in?” he asked.
“Without this?” Michalec jerked the photograph away and squinted at it. He gave Emil a smile without warmth. “I know where you live. I know your family, I know everything you love. I’ve killed you twice already, Inspector Brod. One of these days, it’s going to take.”
It was cold again, cold right through. That long roll-call of corpses was on him again, with all the pain of this journey.
Lena squeezed his arm while Michalec folded the photograph into his coat, nodding. The gun in Emil’s coat was heavy. He could barely hear her whisper Oh god Emil come on I love you let’sgo as he saw those dead boy- soldiers in Berlin, saw soldiers haunting the streets looking for watches, saw skulls crushed by the gears of the world that were run by Michalec’s hands. Then a cold deck, the work blade in his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut. Come with me come on. She was turning him around, and he felt like crying. Then he was crying, and throwing her off of him. He rushed into Michalec’s retreating back, the Marakov in his fist now, the barrel pressed against Michalec’s temple.
They were both in the cold water. Michalec squirmed beneath him, shouting “Oberst!” weakly.
The Marakov on his ear, on his cheek, on his mouth. Each point of entry was unsatisfactory.
There was shooting up above, and water splashed. Michalec pushed, and they rolled over, struggling, and saw orange flashes in the sky. Michalec tried to punch his stomach, but Emil was on top again, sitting on him. He used the pistol like a club on Smerdyakov’s head, twice, then forced the barrel into his mouth. A brief elation sang through him. That face was terrified. Eyes sealed shut, cheeks trembling. He saw the seal blade make work of this man, like the work done on soulless animals. Emil’s finger held the trigger.
There was a celebration of gunshots above. Beneath him was an old, crying man with a pistol in his mouth. His fat stomach shook beneath Emil.
Behind him was a voice that he couldn’t make out, but he knew before turning that it was Lena calling for him. She was huddled in a far doorway.
The old man was crying terribly now, trying to plead but unable because of the gun, and Emil looked at him for a moment, lightheaded by what he could do, then took the pistol out of his mouth and got up and walked to the door and sat beside Lena. They were both drenched, and holding each other did nothing to make them warmer. The shooting above had stopped. There was only black sky.
The sound of feet running down church steps on the other side of the square, then through water. He knew he should get up, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t take on the chase. He couldn’t even look. Lena’s breathing was a rhythm against his chest. The square was empty, old ripples the only sign of Michalec’s departure. Then, behind them, Leonek stumbled out of the doorway. One bloody hand gripped his shoulder.
“Shit, shit,” Leonek repeated through clenched teeth. He slipped on the lowest step and fell into the water. Groaned. Lena, beneath Emil’s arm, was weeping. He turned at the sound of splashing. But it was only the distant noise of running, wet footfalls echoing off the stone walls, becoming quieter by the second.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
On the way out of the Canal District, Lena tore off a strip of her skirt and tied it around Leonek’s shoulder to slow the bleeding. He grunted when she knotted it, and gave Emil a queer grin. “Crazy bastard. You didn’t get hit once?”
First, Emil felt only the fatigue-a draining anticlimax, then, once they had reached the drier areas, he put his arm around Lena. She bowed her head into his shoulder. He had gotten her back, alive. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He felt her steadying breaths against him, and when he looked down, her soft hair was in his face.
Leonek muttered curses. He was trying to figure out if he’d gotten the Oberst at all.
But by the time they reached the parking lot, Emil’s joy and self-congratulation was ebbing, and as they drove in silence to the hospital, he became focused on Michalec’s Politburo seat, and what lay in their future. In weeks or months, maybe, there would be no place to hide. He felt the Marakov again as he leaned into a turn, and wanted to go back. He still didn’t understand why he had let Michalec live.
He touched his bare head. “Anyone seen my hat?”
They both stared at him.
He helped Leonek out of the car and walked him into the crowded hospital corridor. Moaning peasants looked up-they were the same ones, it seemed to Emil, who had been here two months ago when they had gone down to the morgue. As he looked into the glazed eyes of the on-duty nurse he realized he would have to use the photos waiting in Janos Crowder s Zorki camera. Self-preservation demanded it.
The old, stale mess at her house was disheartening. She moved from room to room until she found one-the dining room-that had not been completely demolished by the colonel, Leonek, and whoever else had cut paths through the rubble. She made them both apricot brandies, and apologized for the lack of ice. It had melted. When the icebox, mysteriously, had been knocked over. Then she stood him up, put her arms around him and kissed him very hard on the lips. They stood like that for a while, kissing, their teeth sometimes rubbing together. The whole time it felt like desperation.
He told her about Irma. It came out over the oak dining table, where they sat in stiff chairs with high backs. She didn’t cry at first, but her shoulders sank toward her chest, and she shivered as though very cold. The bottle of brandy was near her, so she poured another. She had washed and changed into a long dress made of green, spongy material, and while taking the second drink she spilled some on it. The brandy turned the green to black where it fell.
After a while, Lena said, “She was my friend.” She smiled a tight, ironic smile. “It wasn’t servitude, not really. Not anymore. She was a sister.” Then she shook her head because she knew no one would believe that these days.
Emil was still on his first drink, and his nerves had not calmed. “Can you tell me about it?”
