The Twelfth Department (38 page)

“In his hand?”

“In his belt. They’re both wearing holsters.”

“What about the buildings?” Korolev whispered, covering the torch’s beam with his closed fingers so that only a pink glow came through. It was just enough to see Azarova’s map and the others crowded in close.

“The map is accurate enough,” the boy said. “The stable block was open and I had a look inside—it’s full of crates and equipment, but empty of people. The main house is a different story, three entrances. The front door is here,” he said, pointing. “It’s well-lit around it so I couldn’t check if it’s locked or not, but my guess is it is. This is the back door and that’s definitely locked, I tried it. This is the side entrance and it’s open. It seems to lead down to a kitchen of some sort and it’s where the walking guard goes when he isn’t walking. I heard voices there so there may be others inside. There are lights on in there anyway. Both downstairs and upstairs.

“This is the new building, which looks like it might be what we’re looking for. I heard a boy’s voice and there are lights on inside. I tried the doors here and here, but it’s locked up tight—and the windows are shuttered and secured as well. The walking guard has a key though—he went in for about five minutes while I was watching. I could hear him speaking to someone.”

“The boy’s voice?” Korolev asked, trying to keep his optimism under control.

“I couldn’t make out what he said but he was in a downstairs room—on the stable side. A woman was talking to him. I think it was the same woman who spoke to the guard.”

“Do you think he could be Yuri?”

“It’s possible.”

Kolya turned to him and Korolev found himself nodding.

“Anything else?”

“There are three trucks parked up by the stable block, there’s a car in front of the main house and a bus as well.”

“A bus?” Slivka asked.

“A small one—one of those ZIS ones.”

Korolev knew the model—a fourteen-seater. The number of vehicles concerned him, it could mean that there were more people about the place than he’d bargained for.

“Show us the walking guard’s route.”

Goldstein traced a route that ran from the side entrance around the inside of the square wall that guarded the buildings, stopping off at the main gate, the newer building and the stable block before returning back to the side entrance. According to Goldstein his circuit took no more than five minutes.

“You said there are lights.”

“The areas around the buildings are lit up but there are plenty of shadows around the walls to move about in. And the stables are only lit at this end.”

Goldstein pointed to the end of the stable block closest to the new building.

Korolev nodded and looked at his watch—it was coming up to midnight. He prayed the voice was Yuri’s.

*   *   *

They returned to the edge of the trees and didn’t have to wait long before Mishka’s crouched figure came into view, making its way carefully through the undergrowth. Again Kolya gave his low whistle and the Thief came toward them, one hand moving to his pocket—and Korolev didn’t doubt it had wrapped itself around a pistol.

Once Mishka was sure it was them he relaxed and swung the small rucksack he was wearing from his shoulder down onto the ground and squatted beside them. The wall, it turned out, continued right the way around the buildings and at no point was it lower than the part they were currently closest to; in fact in some places it was higher. There were two gates other than the main gate but both were locked, and apart from rough lanes that led into the woods, the metalled drive that led from the main road was the only way in and out—for cars at least. As for the phone line, he’d dealt with it.

“We’re best to go in where the kid went—just there.”

Mishka gestured toward the tree Goldstein had used to clamber over the wall.

“Well then,” Korolev said. “This is how we’ll do it.”

He spoke quietly, pointing out who was to go where and when. They had ten minutes, from the moment the walking guard went back into the house, to secure the front gate, search the new building and deal with whoever was in it, and disable the vehicles. Then five minutes from when the walking guard started his next round, in which to take him out of action.

“After that,” he said, “we go into the main house. But remember the time—no dawdling. And try not to kill anyone—there’s no point making this worse than it already is.”

There was silence, but he could see heads nodding in the gloom.

Kolya leaned across and pushed something into his hand—a cosh. “I brought a couple. Just in case.”

Slivka stood up and stretched.

“There’s no time like the present,” she said.

“Remember,” Korolev whispered as they began to make their way toward the wall. “No guns, unless it’s life or death.”

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Korolev was crouched in the shadow of the bus—hidden, he hoped, from the main house, yet with a good view over the rest of the area inside the walls. About five minutes previously, there’d been the faintest of sounds from the main gate, then nothing—Kolya’s two bruisers must have dealt with the guard. Not long after that, Korolev had seen Goldstein slip across the lit area heading up toward the trucks; then he’d watched as Mishka and Korolev crouched beside the side door to the new building for no more than fifteen seconds, before it opened and they were in. Someone must have found a set of keys on the main gate guard—which meant they were ahead of schedule.

He looked across at Slivka, standing under a low tree, invisible unless you were looking straight at her, except for perhaps the slightest reflection of light from the shoulders of her jacket. If the walking guard kept to the route Goldstein had described, he’d pass between them. All they could do now was wait—and perhaps pray. Korolev found his hand halfway to his shoulder to cross himself when he stopped, remembering that Slivka was probably looking over at him. His hand hung there for a moment before it occurred to him that he’d more to be worried about than Slivka seeing him bless himself.

No, Slivka wasn’t someone he needed to fret about. He’d told her everything on the way out about the report, about how Madame Azarova had killed Shtange. He’d even told her about his meeting with Rodinov and the dead end the report had turned out to be. The one thing he hadn’t told her about was Goldstein’s part in the business—but that had hardly seemed polite, what with Goldstein sitting in the car beside her. Now he looked across at her and finished what he’d started, his fingers touching his shoulders, his forehead, his lips, praying she made it out of this in one piece. He’d certainly do his best to see to it.

His mind had wandered a little perhaps, so that when a door shut somewhere inside the house he was surprised. He breathed deeply, pulled the cosh from his pocket, hefted it, and reminded himself exactly what he had to do.

Now there came the sound of voices. A man’s and a woman’s. He looked across at Slivka and thought he saw her hand move—but if she meant to tell him something, he couldn’t make it out. He prepared himself, bending his knees slightly—imagining the blow and exactly where it would land.

“I’ll come with you—could do with a breath of fresh air.”

A woman’s voice. Korolev cursed under his breath, feeling a surge of alarm, but he calmed himself, thought it through. They couldn’t let the guard go past—there was no choice. Not with his friend gagged, tied, and out for the count at the main gate. Not with the door to the new building open and Mishka and Kolya busy at work. He beckoned Slivka to come forward, to distract them, and she nodded her agreement.

The footsteps were almost upon them now, one heavier, one lighter. Korolev held his breath as the pair came into view, both of them smoking, their pace slow and companionable.

“Comrades, have you a light?” Slivka asked as she stepped out from the shadow of the tree, calm as you like, and the guard was actually holding out his cigarette to her when Korolev’s blow hit him between the neck and the ear, exactly where he’d envisaged it. The fellow went down faster than a drunk on an icy pavement.

The woman turned toward him, her mouth opening to scream and he was already swinging the cosh back to deal with her, God forgive him, when Slivka took a hold of her, pulling her back, one hand over her mouth, while with the other hand she showed the woman her pistol.

“Quiet now, Comrade,” Slivka whispered in her ear, her voice gentle, “and all will be well. Make one noise though—and you won’t make another. Understand?”

The woman’s eyes were fixed on Korolev and it occurred to him that his face must be clearly visible in the light that was spilling over the top of the bus. It seemed her eyes were begging him for something.

“I asked whether you understood,” Slivka whispered again, pressing the barrel of the Tokarev into the woman’s cheek. The woman nodded, once.

“Take her over to the trees,” Korolev managed to say, wondering for the first time why the hell he hadn’t had enough sense to make sure he and Slivka had covered their faces. If they did manage to rescue Yuri from this place—who would Zaitsev first suspect? Korolev. And now there was a witness as well. He felt sick to the pit of his stomach.

He leaned down and checked the guard’s pulse. There was one—which was good. The last thing they wanted was a fatality during the course of the evening. He took the guard under the arms, pulled him up and then swing him over his shoulder, stumbling as he did so. The fellow was no featherweight and Korolev, it seemed, wasn’t as young and strong as he’d once been—but he made it as far as the bushes, where he dropped the guard down as softly as he could, searching him quickly and finding a bunch of keys and a packet of cigarettes. He took both—and the Nagant revolver from the fellow’s holster for good measure. Then he tied the guard’s hands behind his back and lashed his feet together. Finally he gagged him, leaving him on his side, curled up like a child—still out for the count.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Korolev made his way as quietly and quickly as he could down the slight slope that led to the new building. The door Kolya and Mishka had gone through stood slightly open and he slipped through it, pulling it closed behind him. Ahead of him was a wide central corridor, along either side of which doors stood ajar. At the end of the corridor there was a stairwell with steps leading upward.

It seemed Kolya and Mishka had been busy—in an office halfway along the corridor, two female nurses were sitting tied to chairs with gags in their mouth. One of them, with red hair, was slumped unconscious against the wall, but the other looked up as he passed. Her eyes were wide with fear. He was about to reassure her when there came a muffled crash from the floor above.

Despite his own instructions about avoiding the use of guns, he found he had the guard’s pistol in his hand, with the business end leading the way up the stairs as he climbed them. Suddenly, there was a crash and the sound of feet moving rapidly back and forth.

Korolev opened the door to the upper corridor to find Kolya halfway along it, doing his best to dodge the wild, swinging blows of a huge man in a sleeveless vest. They fought in total silence. Mishka was lying against a wall, trying to push himself back to his feet, blood trickling from a nose that had been unsympathetically rearranged. The little Thief looked confused.

When Kolya saw him, he went on the attack, landing two sharp blows, and Korolev took his cue, racing as silently as he could along the corridor. The giant shrugged off Kolya’s punches and began to turn, but too late—Korolev was already swinging the butt of the Nagant down with every ounce of his strength. For a moment, Korolev thought it hadn’t been enough, but the big man slowly fell to his knees, shaking his head as he did so. He knelt for a moment before trying to stand again. Korolev and Kolya looked at each other, before Korolev, shrugging his shoulders, hit the giant one more time—even harder, if that were possible.

Like a felled tree, the big man quivered for a moment than collapsed to the ground—out for the count, blood pulsing from his injured head.

“What took you so long?” Kolya said, his voice distorted by a fat lip and ragged breath. “I think I broke a finger on that ape’s ear. His ear, mind you, not his jaw or anything solid like that.”

Korolev found he was also out of breath—either from running up the stairs or the adrenaline. He wasn’t sure which.

“If I’d known you were going to go toe-to-toe with this fellow I’d have come earlier, just for the show.”

“Did you get the other guard’s keys?” Kolya asked.

“I have them.”

“There’s a door downstairs we couldn’t open. Mishka found this fellow in there.” Kolya pointed to what seemed to be some kind of an operating room. Korolev stepped inside. A long bed fitted with leather straps stood in the center, its head almost touching a large black machine covered with dials and levers—from which a worrying-looking wire skullcap dangled. Korolev stepped back out to find Kolya helping Mishka to his feet.

“It looks like he found the fellow with his face. Is he all right?”

“What’s it to you?” Mishka growled, holding himself up with one hand against the wall. Then he was sick over his shoes.

“Not too bad then,” Korolev said. “Mishka, keep an eye on your friend here while we check the rest of the floor.”

They moved quickly from room to room, finding another of the strange machines but otherwise nothing. It seemed the giant had been alone on the upper floor. Korolev looked at his watch. They had to get moving.

“What do we do with that lump in the corridor?” Kolya asked, and Korolev, for an answer, pointed to the leather restraining straps on one of the beds.

It took all three of them to drag the giant back into the room he’d emerged from and lift him up on to the bed. They had to pull the straps as tight as they could in order to be able buckle them onto the last notch, so huge was the man’s frame.

Perhaps Mishka’s swearing as he tried to push his nose back into shape but the giant woke just as they’d finished, his eyes meeting Korolev’s for a moment in surprise before they flicked left and right. At the sight of the machine above him however, his eyes went wide with terror and he began to buck and rear on the bed. Even with a gag in place he still managed to make an animal mewling that had the hairs at the back of Korolev’s neck standing to attention.