Pavel & I (47 page)

‘Why are we stopping?'

‘We are waiting for some of my men to come with a truck.'

‘Whatever for?'

‘To transport all those boys. The Soviet Union needs workers for its mines.'

Pavel tried to read Karpov's face. He failed. The moon rendered it lifeless and wooden.

‘You don't have to do this,' he said. ‘All those boys. Just to teach me manners.'

The General shrugged. ‘It's nothing. In the greater scheme of things. You'll forget about them before the week is out.'

He inhaled and blew smoke into one gloved fist. ‘Trust me, Mr Richter. Very soon you will find yourself getting sentimental over
something, something quite small really, a kitten on a garden wall, and it will be like those boys never even existed. Yesterday's news. A line you read in the paper and used for kindling.'

‘You're cold, Karpov. You have a dead soul.'

‘I forgot that you're a poet, Mr Richter. They left it out of your file. It's a serious oversight.'

‘My file?'

‘Your file, Mr Richter. Your military record. We got it through channels. And here you are judging other men's souls.'

Karpov smiled and closed the door on Pavel; Pavel sitting there, asking himself how many others would be made to suffer for his mistakes.

‘What did he say?' Sonia wanted to know.

‘They're taking the boys away with them.'

‘Why?'

‘Because they are witnesses. This is the British sector. The Soviets have no right to be here.'

‘What a bastard.'

‘Yes,' said Pavel. ‘That's precisely what he is.'

He turned to her then, and to the boy who sat sprawled across her lap, and wondered what needed to be said before he went and found Haldemann for Karpov, and all their lives hung in the balance.

He spoke to the boy first. It was difficult to know where to start. Anders looked over to him; the boy was cooling one cheek against the window's glass, running a cautious hand over his twice-broken nose. Pavel thought about touching him, on the knee perhaps, or at the crook of his elbow, but was unsure of himself.

‘We never finished
Oliver Twist,
' he said at last. ‘Made sure he comes out all right.'

The boy waved away the attempt at banter.

‘I was mad at you,' he told Pavel, teeth in his lip. ‘On account of you cried. On the Colonel's shoulder. Back when we saw Boyd White. When he was dead.'

‘Are you still mad at me now?'

‘No, I'm not. The Colonel – he's dead, too, right? That's why you're here, with the Russians.'

Pavel had trouble controlling his voice.

‘Yes,' he said. ‘The Colonel's dead. An ugly death.'

‘Aren't you glad?'

‘Yes, of course.'

The boy looked up at him to see whether he meant it. He reached out a hand and stroked Pavel's cheek. They stayed like that for a while, the boy's hand growing cosy in his beard.

‘What's going to happen next?' Anders asked eventually.

‘We give them what they want.'

‘And then?'

Pavel hesitated, looked over to Lev and the gun that was pointed at his face.

‘I don't know, Anders,' he said and the boy accepted this without a murmur. He let go of Pavel's cheek and leaned back into the door.

The truck arrived and they sat waiting while two Russians in civilian garb got out, climbed the stairs and returned with a procession of boys, pale-faced and underdressed. They walked in an orderly line. Sonia wondered where they had learned it. Perhaps they had been born to it, the soldier's march, and the prisoner's. Things might have been different with a procession of girls. Surely one of them would have twirled a lock of her hair, or stuck out a hip; bent clumsily from her waist to pick up a handkerchief, or stopped to smooth out her skirts. She counted thirteen boys, all different sizes, all of them mucky. The last soldier carried the body, wrapped in a sheet. There was no mistaking the shape, nor the red stain that stuck skin to cotton and made recognizable the cut of the chin, the low, boyish brow. The
soldiers worked slowly, loading up the boys one by one, unperturbed by the many lighted windows and their owners' watchful eyes. Paulchen was loaded up last. They lay him right at his companions' feet. For a moment, she tried to guess where they'd cart the dead boy. Chances were they would simply drive him over to police headquarters and instruct the medical examiner to diagnose him with terminal TB. Dead bodies did not strike her as a problem for a man like Karpov. At most they amounted to paperwork, a nuisance. She wondered whether, if he had stood where Fosko had stood, she would have attended to his needs with the same mercenary docility.

But it was Pavel who crowded her thinking, always Pavel, with his wild man's stubble and the gall to sacrifice a dozen boys' lives to buy slack for another. As she leaned against his shoulder and warmed his hand between her own, she watched him surreptitiously, from behind lowered lids. It was hard at this point to understand how they had got there, sitting thigh to thigh under a Russian's gaze. She wondered whether either of them would live through the night.

Karpov ordered two of his men to climb into the back of the truck and guard the boys. He stood watching it drive down the moonlit street until it turned at the corner. Then he got back in the car and asked Pavel where to go next.

‘It's time you keep to your part of the bargain.'

Pavel hesitated. ‘You can let the boy go now,' he said. ‘And the woman.'

The General flashed a mirthless smile. ‘You know very well I can't. Where to now?'

‘Alt-Moabit. Near the park.'

‘Good.'

He started the engine and pulled the car into the road.

Pavel was running out of time. They were almost there: another few blocks and he'd have to tell Karpov to stop the car. If he was going to speak it needed to be now, three men listening in, and Haldemann already crowding his mind. Pavel gestured to the boy to inch closer.

‘How are you feeling?' he asked softly.

‘Okay.'

‘When we are done here, you need to go to a hospital.'

‘I'm okay.'

‘There could be something wrong. Internal bleeding. You need to have it looked at.'

The boy nodded consent, but suspicion was beginning to cloud his eyes.

‘What's happening?' he asked.

‘I'm going to get someone for the General. Someone he wants. You'll wait here with Sonia. You'll be all right, won't you?'

‘Sure.' And then: ‘There isn't any choice, right?'

Pavel smiled ruefully. ‘Come closer, Anders. Come real close.'

The boy leaned over, wincing as he moved his ribcage. His mouth was a swollen mess of dried blood and shreds of skin; the nose a dislocated lump. Gently, Pavel reached out, grabbed his face on either side and planted his own lips upon the boy's. He held him like that for two or three moments, then let go, amidst the taste of blood.

‘Euhh,' said the boy. ‘What was that about?'

‘It's a Russian thing. It means there is no anger between us.'

‘Are you going to give Sonia one, too?'

But Pavel had no answer to this.

He gave Karpov a sign to stop the car and cut the engine. All this was done without the need to utter a single word; a tap on the shoulder and a look was all it took. The two Russians got out and waited for Pavel to follow suit. He leaned forward a little, to unwedge himself, but Sonia stopped him with a tug at the arm. Pavel looked at her then, looked at her from up close. The moonlight reflected off her
chin's down; a thousand silky hairs that clung to the planes of her cheeks like ivy. The mouth a tight line; furrows on the brow. Pavel thought it anger. He was surprised when she reached out and gently stroked his cheek.

‘I know,' he mumbled. ‘I ought to shave.'

The brow unfolded. ‘I was beginning to forget about that.' And quietly: ‘You'll come back?'

He smiled weakly. ‘What choice do I have?'

‘Oh, Pavel. You really know how to cheer a girl.'

They parted without a kiss. Outside, Karpov offered him another cigarette and asked him to point out where Haldemann was hiding.

‘Which one is it?'

‘That one over there.' Pavel pointed to a brown brick building. There had been a photo on the microfilm, and a close-up of the doorway. He took a long drag on his cigarette, held down the smoke, exhaled. It gave him the illusion of patience. The next moment he shattered it with a question.

‘What do we do now?'

The General hesitated. His eyes wandered over to Lev, then to the driver of the second car. He had lost all his other soldiers to a truckload of boys. His attention reverted to Pavel; studied him with a peculiar intensity.

‘I should call for backup. I could use another three or four men. Somebody to guard the exits, in case he makes a run for it.'

Pavel nodded. ‘It could take a while, though. Finding a working telephone and all. And then, of course, he might still throw himself out the window. When he learns you are Russian, I mean.'

They stood smoking, looking at the building. Pavel watched Karpov clench and unclench his fist as he was trying to make up
his mind. His fingers had to be freezing in their thin leather gloves. Minutes passed before he spoke.

‘Are you a chess player, Mr Richter?'

Pavel shook his head. ‘I don't know the first thing about chess.'

‘Really? I would have thought you did.'

‘I'm sorry to disappoint.'

Pavel held his stare, blew white smoke into the night. His teeth ached with the cold. ‘Why don't we go in and finish it? You and I, General. We'll pick up Haldemann. Convince him to come quietly. And then we can all go home. Warm up over a glass of hot tea.'

Karpov stood, pursed his lips. He took his time making up his mind. ‘Lev will go with you,' he said at length. ‘He's younger than I am. Stronger. A better shot, too. You understand what I'm saying?'

‘Perfectly.'

‘Just get the man out of there. Tell him it's for the best. You're good with words, aren't you, Mr Richter?'

As though on cue they both turned to look at Sonia who sat huddled together with the boy on the back seat of the limousine. Karpov's voice took on an unpleasant edge.

‘She is quite beautiful, you know. A German Grushenka. Only not as plump. The fox suits her.'

‘There is no need to threaten me.'

‘Who is threatening you?'

‘You'll let her go afterwards?'

‘She holds no value for the Soviet Union. Don't do anything stupid, Mr Richter, and everything will go as agreed.'

Pavel threw his cigarette into a mound of snow and gestured to Lev. Together they crossed the road and approached the brown brick building.