Dark Matter (16 page)

Cell 148B, Block D, Reclusorio Norte Prison, Mexico City, Mexico.

Chuck returned to his cell, pleased to note that the bunk bed was gone and with it his cellmate. 
Good
, Chuck thought to himself,
the money I promised that guard was well worth it.
He lay on his new mattress and thought about his life, his mind wandering to his cat Trouble and how much he missed her.  His lawyer had been in touch with Mrs Grainger, who was happy to look in on Trouble as she was retired.  The thought of Trouble becoming more friendly with his neighbour and starting to forget who he was brought tears to his eyes, he sobbed a little to himself, quietly, but the more he thought about it the more the tears came until he was sobbing uncontrollably.  The emotion of his capture and incarceration was all too much.  The only real thing he had in his life was a cat called Trouble, and he missed her, terribly.

8
Circus City

18:46   27 October  [15:46  27 October GMT]

Central Bus Station, Moscow, Russia.

The bus pulled to a stop, jerking the passengers slightly.  Natasha was fast asleep, had been now for hours, Solomon gently woke her.  'Come on sleepy head, it's time to get off the bus.'

'Where...where are we?'  Natasha asked.

'Moscow.'

They had a short wait in the cold Moscow air, Solomon shivering not at the cold but at the thought that they could be under surveillance.  The first she would know about it would be a hand on her shoulder, or the shout of an armed
Militsiya
.  Reunited with their luggage they left the confines of the bus station making their way to Shchyolkovskaya, the metro station next door, which they took to Paveletskaya and where they walked to the Paveletsky train station to get tickets for the train to Volgograd. 

The queue for tickets was long but fast moving, this suited Solomon just fine,
the quicker we are through, the less chance we will be remembered,
she thought
.
  They bought a baked potato each and a fruit pie to share from one of the vendors and took their place on the train amongst the other travellers.  Solomon sighed as she relaxed into her seat; feeling suddenly very tired at the thought of the enormous journey ahead of them and the risks they faced.  They could have simply flown to Zurich in a matter of hours, enjoying a meal and a film as they went, but flights presented hazards she knew would have been too great.  She was starting to realise what life as a fugitive meant and she didn't like it. 

Looking out of the window her heart stopped as she saw two Militsiya walking alongside the train on the platform.  She stared at them, a rabbit caught in headlights, unable to turn her gaze away even though she knew she must.  They continued on, just walking together seemingly untroubled, Solomon let out a breath and then relaxed, just a little, into her seat.  Her original intention had been to take the train from Volgograd to Sochi on the coast of the Black Sea, now however she didn't think that to be wise,
better not to be trapped aboard a train close to the border.

As the train pulled out of the station, straining to overcome the inertia of the five hundred tons of combined engine and carriages, Solomon breathed another sigh of relief.  She had seen no evidence of any Militsiya boarding the train and she had no reason to believe that anyone even knew they are on the train. 
Hopefully
, she thought,
if we have been discovered to be missing they are looking for us in Helsinki.

The train gathered speed, moving out of central Moscow and headed south towards Volgograd.  The train was busy, packed with people; Solomon took her time to look around at the other passengers. 
People
, she began to think to herself,
think of a train as a natural extension to their home or office. 
She could see people eating, chatting on the phone, working and even knitting in the case of an elderly lady who would probably finish whatever she was working on by the end of her journey.  She looked more closely at the woman and started to envy the life she imagined for her.  A simple life full of the joys of family, she was probably on such a journey going to see a son or daughter in the southern part of Russia.  There to spend a week or two catching up on her child's life, enjoying time with her grandchildren.  Now she started to think that the knitting was a baby blanket for a new grandchild.  That thought provoked a pang of guilt followed by a feeling of emptiness; she looked at Natasha sitting next to her and started to wonder what kind of life she is offering her, no father, no grandparents, no home and on the run.  This was not the life she had had in mind for herself and especially not for her little girl.

17:12   28 October  [14:12  28 October GMT]

Volgograd Train Station, Volgograd, Russia.

The train came to a full stop with much more grace than the one from St. Petersburg to Moscow, the train easing itself into the platform allocated for it.  Solomon was tired again, tired in a way that sleep alone would not fix.  Although she had slept some, the journey being too long not to sleep, it had only been shallow and the nightmares had made tiring.  Her body was starting to ache, too much sitting and not having the regular exercise that she normally gave it.  The private fitness club in St. Petersburg now a distant memory for her and her body.

Solomon would have loved to visit here under better circumstances.  She had learned about Volgograd, or Stalingrad as her teacher had insisted upon calling it, at school and later in the army. 
The Hero City of Russia that held out against the might of Hitler’s Nazi army from July nineteen forty-two to February nineteen forty-three.
It was the bloodiest battle in modern history with nearly two million combined casualties from both sides. 
Yes
, she thought to herself,
I could get lost amongst the history here for days, if only I had the time.
Instead, we have to shuffle our way to the bus station
.  She sighed, picked up their luggage and holding her daughter's hand began a slow trudge to the bus station.

The bus station was still open, but the last bus had left.  Solomon spoke to a returning driver; tired though he was he gave her directions to a local place the long distance drivers use where she could get a cheap room for the night.

10:43   29 October  [07:43  28 October GMT]

Volgograd Train Station, Volgograd, Russia.

Entering the bus station the next morning, it took a moment for Solomon’s brain to register what was wrong.  When it did, her heart sank and skipped a beat at the same time. 
Militsiya
.  The word rang through her mind bouncing back and forth, each time denting her confidence a bit more.  Solomon managed to control most of her fear, and to keep walking.  People who stop and turn around are easily spotted.  Instead, she and Natasha kept walking, but rather than a straight line, they walked in a large arc, always appearing to be walking towards something in the station until they mixed with passengers who had just arrived and so they could walk out.  A person well in front of them dropped a leaflet and now she realised that several people were carrying them.  She stopped briefly to tie her shoe, allowing her to pick up the leaflet; she didn’t read it until they were walking again.  She turned it over and came face to face with a picture of her and Natasha staring blankly back at her.  This time her heart skipped several beats.  She kept walking, kept hold of Natasha, kept control of her emotions. 
I must think, think!  What should I do?
  She decided that the photos were too good a match, something had to be done.  And done quickly.

She found a toilet, close to the exit of the station.  She pulled Natasha in with her and quickly set about herself.  Taking a clip from her handbag, she put her hair up in a distinct ponytail, but high on her head.  Her long raven hair now less apparent.  Natasha's hair was more of a problem, the same raven colour; it was currently styled in a short bob.  This left less scope for styling. 

'What's wrong mummy?'

'I want to put your hair up, it's part of the game, but I don't have any clips.'

'Will these do mummy?’  Natasha pulled four pink clips shaped like butterflies out of her coat pocket.

'You' Solomon began, 'are a little star.'

The hair re-arranged the best she could they popped back out into the world, Solomon thinking that they would need a chemist to do a proper job of restyling themselves. 
A busy or a back-street one. 

She was at a loss as to what to do.  Public transport over any great distance was out of the question.  So too was hiring a car, too many questions and paperwork.  The only way forward she decided was hitchhiking.  This came with its own attendant risks.  The most obvious being out in the open for any passing Militsiya to notice them.  Then there were the risks of placing themselves in the hands of strangers. 
Not a pleasant thought
.

We need to know where we are going, somewhere far from here in the right direction, but not so far that it would raise questions.  What I need is a map, she thought to herself.  This now meant two shops, twice the risk of being spotted or remembered; she didn't like it but there was no alternative. 
At least Volgograd is a large city, many people to be lost amongst.

She found a bookstore close by, and to avoid suspicion purchased a novel and a cookery book at the same time as the Atlas.  It was a large hard-backed edition but this was the best she could find with the detail she needed.  As they walked down the street, the two surplus purchases went in a bin.  Solomon becoming acutely aware of her diminishing financial resources.

It would have been easier to ask the bookseller about finding a chemist, but that would have left a trail.  Instead, a couple of blocks from the store, she asked a mother of two young children.  The chemist's shop was almost hidden, obviously the kind of place that didn't rely on passing trade.  She purchased two bottles of hair dye, one a mousy, mid-range brown for herself, the other a light dullish blonde for Natasha.  A pair of hair scissors, a cutthroat razor and some toothpaste.

In the street outside the chemist's shop, she found a public toilet.
This toilet
, she thought to herself,
has to be smelt to be believed
.  Despite its drawbacks, it was a quiet place and she found a sign inside saying, “Out of Order”.
 
Solomon placed the sign on the outside of the door and closed it;
that should give us some privacy…
.  They emerged sometime later, Solomon with short brown hair and Natasha's dark blonde styled in a very short crew cut like a boys.  They had to venture another conversation with a stranger.

'Excuse me,' she asked a man dressed in an unkempt fashion, 'is there somewhere I could find a place to stay.  I have very little money you see.'

The man stood perfectly still, looking at them both.  It seemed an age before he spoke, as if he was deciding whether he should help them.  He told them about an area of the city to the south where rooms were available for a small sum and on a daily basis.  He said that it was a bit of a walk, but that the bus could take them there for a small sum. 
To think I would have judged that man on his appearance.  Now I’m homeless, with no job or income and fast running out of cash and on top of that, I am a fugitive. 
So too was Natasha she realised, looking down at her daughter she wondered again why this had happened to them. 

As they sat on the bus, Solomon pulled out the leaflet, as she read it her mind tried to take it all in.
Wanted for the Murder of Professor Dorän and the theft of state secrets.
  It also gave their ages, height and weight. 
Murder
, she thought,
what murder?  Who was this Professor Dorän?
Solomon was starting to realise that they were in much more trouble than she had realised. 
For murder, we will be hunted throughout the entire country.  The theft of state secrets means being hunted outside Russia too.
  Following her mother’s story, she desperately hoped that it would lead them both to safety.  She couldn’t understand how her mother had the foresight for all of this nine years ago.

The southern area of town proved to be everything Solomon had hoped for.  Edge of the city, run-down, and no questions asked.  Although she hadn't intended for them to take a room, she couldn't think when they had last slept in a bed and the prospect of it beckoned to her.  The room was small, dark, and bare.  The bed was old, the mattress having past the throwing out stage years before.  Neither of them cared.  They both lay down and slept.  The day passed into night and the night into morning.

The sun found their room and entered uninvited.  It moved around casting shadows in its wake, until it found the bed and its occupants.  Natasha awoke, unaware of where she was; she shook her mother’s shoulder until she was awake.

'Mummy I'm hungry.'

'OK darling we'll get something out.'

Breakfast came courtesy of a small cafe that catered for people who had no home.  A couple of inquiries here proved fruitful in identifying the best area to hitchhike south. 

A truck stopped, the driver inquiring where they were headed.

'South towards Svetlograd.'

'I'm going to Yashkul, I can take you as far as Elista, hop in'

The lorry driver was used to people on the road, he didn't inquire into their circumstances, thinking it none of his business and believing they would probably lie anyway. 
Everyone has their reason,
he figured.  He had a baseball cap with Cubs on it and plonked this on Natasha's head.

'There you go little fella.'