Birth of an Assassin Page 6

  “And…?”

  She held up hands in surrender. “I only asked. After living under the shadow of Stalin, I won’t be the one who tells you to live your life in prejudice. Are you still with this girl?” She nuzzled back into his shoulder as she asked.

  Embarrassment burned his cheeks at the thought of how little had actually happened between them. “To be honest, we were never really together. She was my friend and I let myself think there could be more – you know, an unspoken understanding.”

  “But…?”

  “But nothing, we had to go our separate ways for the sake of our careers and I couldn’t track her down when the chance came.”

  “And you still feel the same way? It’s a long time to nurture such feelings.” She paused. “But knowing you, I can’t say I’m surprised. You become committed and it takes over your life.”

  “I don’t know about that, but she’s gone and I can’t forget her. This sounds immature, I know, but I think I love her, Miriam.”

  She stopped and embraced him. “Don’t worry, little brother, these things have a way of sorting themselves out.”

  Just for a moment, he felt the glow he’d felt as a child – but then reality kicked in and they walked in silence for a couple of blocks.

  “This problem with the demonstration, Miriam. I’ve given it a lot of thought and we have choices – but each carries problems.”

  “Nothing comes easy in this life, Jez, you should know that.”

  “Yes, yes, very profound, but this will be dangerous. I’ve had many ideas, but only two are even vaguely realistic.”

  She turned her face to him: well.

  He continued. “Should I be trying to get you back home to Vladimir, or smuggle you out of the country?”

  Her grip tightened on his arm. “Out of the country, you can do that?”

  “Whether I can is not the issue. It means I would betray a man I have the utmost respect for and I would be flying in the face of everything I’ve believed in.”

  Her face wizened. “Then what you’re saying is you have a choice of standing by your family or handing us over to the authorities.”

  His head jerked as he stopped in surprise, almost laughed. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. But you’re right, Miriam.” He sighed. “In which case, you have two choices while I only have the one… So what is it to be?”

  She exhaled a deep breath. “I’m sure the girls would want to go home.”

  “Well, that would be the easiest, but that brings the first of the problems. If you demonstrated again and Smersh got hold of you, you would betray me. Unless... promise me you won’t demonstrate?”

  “What? No, I couldn’t do that. I will carry on with the demonstrations whatever the cost – this is about justice. But I would never betray you, what do you think I am?”

  “Naïve, for starters. If Smersh get their hands on you, you’ll tell them anything and everything. Accept me on this.”

  She tilted her head: okay.

  “You say there’s a chance to leave the country: to where, how?”

  He groaned. “I haven’t worked out how yet, so there’s a chance that there’s no chance, but... maybe it would be possible to help you on your way to your Promised Land.”

  She squealed with delight and threw her arms around his neck. “Israel? Oh, Jez,” and then stood back, hesitant. “Yes, but we must tell the girls as if it is the only choice.”

  Back at the office, Lydia looked jittery as they entered and Jez considered why. “It won’t do your nerves any good here,” he said. “I have an apartment in the downtown part of the city, we’ll go there.”

  “An apartment?” Miriam said and her brow rose in surprise.

  “Yes, Osnaz officers get perks.”

  *

  A few days passed, the girls relaxed and Miriam positively basked in the luxury of what was really a Spartan, but clean, two-bedroom apartment. Jez slept on the sofa, the girls in the spare room and Miriam in the main bedroom. He came from his office on the third evening with briefcase full and a map rolled up under his arm.

  He’d barely got through the door when Rachael came at him like an ankle biter. “Jez, we’ve been here for three days. Surely, we can’t still be wanted criminals? Why can’t we just go home?”

  “Because they’re still looking for you and it wouldn’t be safe outside, not for you, me or the rest of the family. Just bear with me until I can work things out,” he said, annoyed that Miriam hadn’t yet told them what they’d planned, fed up how none of them appreciated how he’d put his life’s record at risk for them – maybe even his life.

  The evening passed quietly, and the younger women went to bed – bored.

  “Have the authorities really been looking for us?” Miriam asked.

  “Yes, they think that somehow, between interrogation and the guard going absent from his post, you just walked out of the office block. Don’t worry, there’s no great outcry and they haven’t even questioned that it might have been my fault. They’re more worried about security.”

  Jez moved the table against the wall and unfolded the map on the floor, emptying the contents of his briefcase next to it.

  “I’ve studied the collective in detail over the years. If I can’t prepare an escape route, no one can.”

  Miriam laughed and Jez sighed.

  “I’ve worked my way through these files over the last few days and Eastern Russia has promise. Air travel would be nice,” he said, sniggered and ran a finger down one side of the map, “but not realistic. If movement around the state were that easy, you wouldn’t have found it necessary to demonstrate.”

  With a patronizing tone, she said, “I am impressed, Jez, you’ve done so much work… but have you found a route?”

  “Are you mocking me?” he asked, hurt.

  “Heaven forbid,” she said, and burst out laughing, grabbed and hugged him before he could take it further.

  “Okay, okay…” he said, shrugging her off and pointing out the River Volga on the map. “The slowest route will be safest. We’ll use rivers and canals.” She looked… uninterested. “Miriam, it took me a long time to find these loopholes. I thought you’d be a bit more enthusiastic. It’s you who wants to go, after all.”

  She grinned, then looked down apologetically. “I am, Jez, and you’ll never know how much. I was only playing with you.”

  He shook his head. Miriam had always been a wonderfully supportive sister, but goodness, had she aggravated him as a child! Nothing changes. “Yes, I know, but I’m worried. I’ve been through a lot over the years, but it’s different when you and the girls are at stake – and me and my career. Anyway, what I’ve been looking at reveals weaknesses. Whether we can exploit them, well, only trying it out will tell. I’ve arranged a security trip for next week, so I won’t be missed here.”

  “Another Osnaz benefit?”

  “Not really, it’s part of my job. So, to coincide with the trip, we must be ready to leave next Wednesday, early morning.”

  She started showing an interest in the map, so he gave her a bit more.

  “The journey takes us into the military town of Saratov, right into the jaws of the security forces. I had thought the railway would be too dangerous, but after studying these files I’ve changed my mind. Security has such a big presence there, they are slack and think only a fool would use it for criminal activity.” He looked up at her. “And, of course, that’s what this is.”

  “Do we get a train south from there?” she asked, brushing off his words, but looking sheepish.

  “No, the train would only be safe for entry into Saratov. But it will break the back of the journey. As for the exit, we’ll bribe our way by barge, travel south to Volgograd, and finally do the same across to Rostov. If we can reach the seaport, there will be foreign ships. With luck, we’ll find you a passage out. Only then will it be safe for you to go it alone.”

  *

  Jez struggled through the door into his apartment with parcels
awkwardly bundled under his arms. He got into the lounge, maneuvered around too much furniture, tripped and most of the stuff fell from his arms.

  “Whoops,” Miriam said and the three women tittered.

  He steadied himself and threw her the only package he hadn’t dropped. And that irritated him even more, as Miriam caught it as if he’d gently passed it over.

  “Thank you,” he said, “I don’t know how I’d have managed without your help…” He picked up the parcels. “I’ve brought you city clothes. Wear them when we leave tomorrow, but pack what you have on, you’ll need that later.”

  Miriam took a skirt from the bag and examined the stitching. “Hmm, good quality,” she said, turning the material and checking the inside seams. “Did you get it in the city?”

  “Where else would I get it at such short notice? …But enough of clothes, we are now in a position to get you out of the country.”

  “What do you mean, out of the country?” Rachael asked, face filling with horror. “I’m not sure I want to do that.”

  “What about Momma and Poppa?” Lydia piped in.

  Jez grimaced – so Miriam still hadn’t told them. “I expect you’ve heard of the Lubyanka prison cells?”

  “No,” Rachael answered defiantly.

  “Well, they say it’s the tallest building in Moscow – because you can see all the way to Siberia from the basement.”

  No one laughed.

  “But I don’t want to leave Momma and Poppa,” Lydia cried.

  “You should’ve thought of the consequences before you demonstrated against the state. If I hadn’t stepped in, already you would be enjoying the hospitality of Lubyanka. To try and go home now would be suicide.”

  “We protested to be given the right to choose what we want to do,” Rachael said, “not so that our family would be separated across nations. Surely you can understand that, Jez?”

  She wept.

  “I do understand,” he said. “But I’m sure the rest of the family will be able to join you in your promised land soon enough.”

  Miriam raised an eyebrow. “Our promised land, Jez, not yours?”

  “No, Miriam, not mine. I chose the military life. And I agree with Marx when he said ‘religion is the opiate of the masses’. Some people need a crutch, fine. I don’t.”

  She shrugged him off and turned to her sister. “Rachael, he’s right,” she told her. “It will be safer all round if we leave.”

  “Look, what’s done is done,” Jez cut in. “It’s too late for regrets. You made your choices when you demonstrated, so get used to the idea.”

  Chapter 10

  Olga Klippe paced the platform at Kazansky railway station. It was her second week on the job, but the first on early shift. Her new boss, Inspector Vlatchko, seemed to watch her every move, but what could she do? Nothing happened here. She would like to impress him, but it seemed impossible to make an impact. Stillness filled the hall and only a few ivory-colored faces had stirred to make their way to one of the drone factories.

  Olga knew that her attributes had a favorable effect on men, and if something didn’t happen to improve her job prospects soon, she might have to work them on the inspector.

  She wandered towards the station entrance and saw an old truck pull up. A man got out and helped three smartly dressed women from the back. The man had a word with the driver and the lorry drove off. Why were office workers getting down from a dirty old truck?

  At last, something amiss.

  *

  Jez left early. He’d arranged for an old civilian truck to ferry them to Kazansky railway station. They found it at the end of the avenue.

  “Is it safe being out on the street in broad daylight?” Rachael asked, tugging parts of her clothing over curves where they didn’t quite fit. “Jez, your guess at our sizes was good – but not that good.”

  “Well, nobody’s perfect. And don’t worry, it’s early, you’ll be safe out here.”

  He helped them into the back of the truck and saw what Rachael had meant. The clothes were too tight. As he hoisted the girls up, he had to stop himself from laughing. Their knees were pulled tightly together by ill-fitting skirts, his shoulder shoved against rumps, his hands pushed butts, anyone watching would be entitled to think he was loading up for market.

  He climbed in with them, tapped the back of the cab, and with its rattles, noises and choking fumes, the lorry chugged its way through a city yet to rouse. They arrived at the station and Jez helped his sisters from the truck and then released the driver from conscript. Plenty of time, they’d arrived half an hour before the first train to Saratov. He would take it easy and settle the girls ready for the long haul. But in the hall, they were halted by a young female official.

  “I saw you get off that old truck,” she began. “What was its purpose? Why are smartly dressed workers traveling like that? Where are you headed?”

  Jez wished he hadn’t discarded his uniform in favor of a black leather jacket and grey trousers... The official’s aggression grew alongside his own nervous excitement.

  “Open that bag,” she insisted to Miriam.

  “Just a minute,” Jez said. “I’m on official military business here and I think you’re allowing your position to go to your head. Before you go too far, let me show you my ID.”

  As he moved to take out identification, the woman’s agitation jumped up a notch. She unbuttoned the flap on her holster and her hand trembled. Comrade Melodramatic. Irritated by her antics, he pulled his jacket open too quickly and exposed three single-piece double-edged throwing knives snugly sheathed into scabbards sewn into the lining.

  Her face turned ashen as she withdrew the pistol. “Don’t… don’t move a muscle,” she stammered, arm unsteady. “I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I have to.”

  Jez looked at his sisters. Rachael and Lydia had huddled together. Miriam wore a face of concern. What a fiasco. And worse, another official, a huge billowing man, ran over, gun in hand. So much for the unobserved exit. The only thing they didn’t have was an American brass band and tickertape.

  The vast man came alongside, pointed his weapon at Jez and, breathing heavily, took the weight of his upper body with a hand to his knee.

  “Ease off, Olga,” he said, puffing out the words and wiping sweat from his brow. “I’ll take it from here. I don’t know what’s going on, but for the moment put your hands up, please.”

  The official was polite, but Jez took little comfort. “There’s been a misunderstanding,” he said. “While trying to get out my ID for the young lady, she misread what she saw. If you allow me I’ll get it now.”

  “No, keep your hands where they are. I’ll take your papers.”

  He stuck the barrel into Jez’s ribs and rummaged through his leather jacket with his free hand. He held the gun firmly and took out Jez’s warrant card. It seemed to take him an eternity to check the details, maybe choosing the right reaction. But then he made his decision and lowered his weapon, straightening almost to attention.

  “Yes indeed, there has been a mix-up here. I’m sorry, sir, my assistant is new and inexperienced. Please relax your arms.”

  “Okay, but we need to carry on with our business – quietly.”

  With arms straightened out by his sides, the official nodded in salutation. Jez took back his identification, and the big man turned to his colleague. “Olga, please, you must learn to show a little more restraint. This man is a senior Osnaz officer.”

  Olga flustered and the scent of her cheap perfume gained in strength. “I shouldn’t have stopped you, sir,” she stuttered. “I had no idea… I… I’m sorry.”

  “Not a problem,” he lied. “It’s good to see we still have people who put their duty first. I too would have had concerns if I’d been in your position.”

  “Thank you, sir, you’re very generous.”

  The railway inspector nodded to Jez, smiled at the girls and left with his young colleague.

  “That could’ve gone smoo
ther, brother,” Miriam said, as the functionaries moved off.

  Jez mustered a weak smile. He would have preferred his sisters to see him in all his glory, not being rescued by a minor official – from another minor official.

  While they waited on the platform, he came under constant scrutiny from the young railway bureaucrat. He’d look her way and she’d smile sheepishly. Discomfort had him smiling ironically; why was he paying the price for her mistake? His collar pushed against his neck and he fidgeted. By the time the red train with the yellow stripe pulled in it had only been a matter of minutes, but it seemed much longer.

  He’d chosen a slow train that stopped at every station. It dropped off and picked up mail; loaded and unloaded parcels; boarded and disembarked short journey passengers. He’d hoped it would mean less security, which it had, but the price was eighteen hours of poor sleep and boredom.

  In Saratov, the early light broke through low cloud and diffused the bleak arrival. Jez left the women in the park-like gardens of Cathedral Square and made his way to the dockside promenade in search of a vessel. There were few non-military people about, but then a worker walked by. Jez stopped him.

  “Excuse me, Comrade. I’m looking for a friend of mine. He said he would meet me where the bargemen drink. I had directions, but seem to have lost them.”

  “The only place he could mean in this area is about 200 metres along that river wall,” the worker said, and wiped the back of a dirty hand across his cheek and nose before pointing the way. “Turn right and it’s another 50 metres on the left, where the road bends. But you won’t find drinkers at this time. They’ll all be at work – or looking for work.”

  “I expect you’re right, but thank you anyway, sir. I appreciate your help.”

  Jez followed the directions in the hope that it would be where people met to find work. At the bend in the road, he got a slight buzz seeing a small group of men.

  One scruffy skipper who poked around the crowd caught his eye. He didn’t look as if he had an interest in picking anything other than his nose. Jez got the idea this man was a loner. If he made an offer to him, and was refused, he wouldn’t run around discussing it. He watched until the man became bored with window-shopping and left the main throng.