Shadow of Babel by Glover Wright

Author:Glover Wright [Wright, Glover]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: G. Glover Wright
Published: 2013-07-10T23:00:00+00:00

***

In Moscow, Dimitri Sergeeovich Voroshilov was proud. Proud to have been called upon to perform a task, a delicate task, for his former leader.

Voroshilov's opinion was firm - though in such treacherous times for former party members, necessarily discreet: he should still be their leader. Not leader of the raggle-taggle patchwork of states with broken economies now left with no cohesive head - but supreme leader of all from Baltic to Bering Seas as he used to be. Voroshilov, would do anything to serve that goal, though in low moments he admitted this was now impossible and he was living in the past. How many weren't? he wondered, now, sighing.

He made his way in the cold morning to the dilapidated prison where the dogs who had brought him down - those who had survived the aftermath - spent their dark days. He believed he had chosen the correct target, the one who in the high times had slithered along the corridors of power, watching, listening, remembering, storing all for later use.

'Good morning, comrade Antipov,' greeted Voroshilov, sliding open a panel and peering into the gloomy cell.

'Comrade is forbidden,' growled the slovenly guard who hadn't a complete uniform to his name and had not been paid for six months.

This was the forgotten end of town where the discarded trash of the new revolution ended up - along with the debris of the old.

Voroshilov shuddered to think how the guard put money in his pockets - other than from occasional hand-outs he offered himself and something, perhaps, from prisoners relatives. If anyone admitted to being their relatives?

It wasn't that their crime was being communist, he reflected; there were thousands of party members still running the creaking departments of bureaucracy - for who else could do it? - no, they hadn't been strong communists. If their coup had succeeded the people would, inevitably, have knuckled under and life would have gone on much as before. But they had failed and so they were pariahs, unloved by political victors and losers alike.

Voroshilov closed the panel and smiled at the guard. 'Where is your humor, my friend?'

'What's funny these days?' the man growled, omitting even his usual your honor.

Voroshilov nodded gravely and held out his hand. The guard palmed the foreign currency bill of which Voroshilov had many differing varieties and denominations from various sources who all believed he served them exclusively.

The guard unlocked the door and slouched away to a wall seat where he slumped, gazing dejectedly at the filthy stone floor.

Voroshilov stood looking deliberately at him, until, with a groan, he arose again and trudged away to the upper level.

'What do you want?' demanded Antipov, laying inside the cell on a mean cot, hands clasped comfortingly over his abdomen.

'Like your guard you have poor humor today, Arkady Mikhailovich?'

'If you had my arsehole you'd be in poor humor.'

'Ah! The diet? It could improve you know.'

Antipov looked up. In his condition anything that offered hope, even improvement, had his complete attention. He would have sold

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.