The Bloody Meadow by William Ryan

Author:William Ryan [Ryan, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780230760684
Publisher: Pan Books

Chapter Fifteen

KOROLEV and Slivka sat in silence.

‘What do you think?’ she asked after a while, her eyes turning to look out of the window. Troubled grey clouds rolled across the steppe towards them. Korolev wouldn’t be surprised if they saw snow again before the morning.

‘What do I think?’ he said, after having considered her question carefully. ‘I think this Danyluk fellow seems to fit in with Kolya’s story. I think Andreychuk being a Petlyurist fits in with his story too. The only question is does Lenskaya fit Kolya’s story. I wish I’d met the girl, then I might have a better idea of what kind of person she was – but look at her Party record. She was a loyal citizen and a committed socialist from the moment she entered the orphanage. What age was she then? Twelve? Could she really have just been waiting for an opportunity? She’d no contact with her father for fifteen years and, according to Belakovsky, Danyluk had almost no contact with her. Was she a traitor? I just don’t know.’

‘Kolya thinks she was,’ Slivka said, reaching into her pocket and producing a packet of cigarettes. ‘Maybe we should turn this over to Mushkin.’

‘No, not yet.’ Korolev considered what Rodinov’s reaction was likely to be if he denounced Ezhov’s lover as a spy. ‘We’ve nothing to back up the theory except a gangster’s story and a couple of coincidences. Let’s see what else we turn up before we go running to the Chekists.’

§

It was coming towards dusk as he made his way through the woods. Slivka had pointed out a path through the trees to where Savchenko was filming and Korolev followed it as it wound through the winter-stripped trees, their bare branches black against the last of the light. The famous director was expecting him and, after Belakovsky’s interview, Korolev wanted to find out what the famous director had to tell him.

Perhaps Korolev was a little distracted, his mind going backwards and forwards over the case, but at first the movement in the bushes to his left didn’t register. It was only when a flurry of snow was dislodged from a branch that he became conscious that this was not the first time he’d heard something from that direction. At first he thought it might be a small animal, a fox perhaps, but it would be odd for a fox to be tracking a human. Korolev stopped for a moment and looked over to where the sound had come from, but the wood was thick with scrub and brush and he could see nothing. He resumed his walk and there was another rustle of leaves, a little ahead of him now, although this time he didn’t stop but instead surreptitiously moved his Walther from under his armpit to his coat pocket and placed his thumb on the safety catch. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but after what Kolya had told him and Belakovsky’s story about the spy he was taking no chances. He maintained

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