Beyond Recall : A Novel (2020) by Seymour Gerald

Author:Seymour, Gerald [Seymour, Gerald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

She was the amoral dealer. The troubled daughter of a man who had strangled himself with a rope. She hated a state that had tossed her into gaol. Natacha, smiling with what a priest would have described as ‘an angel’s sweetness’, intercepted an elderly woman struggling along a pavement, weighed down with her purchases. Done with gentleness, charm and sincerity. They walked together, and she cut her stride to extend the opportunity for conversation and gave no offence, no embarrassment. The woman’s answers, faced with rare kindness, flowed.

“Rude and difficult, and never a part of our community.’’

“Is that so? Not respectful of you?”

“No time of day for me. Military, believes that makes him a czar. No manners.”

“And you have worked hard all your life.”

“Of course. I was in the office of the Harbour-Master, outside in all weathers, and . . .”

“If he is so grand, so mighty, why is he in that block?”

“I heard it was an administrative error. He fought it, then tired of the complaint.”

“And now he is leaving?”

“Yes, on his way. I did not know about the removal team coming, but his men say he will be gone in the morning.”

She pouted, played the game well. “You’ll miss him? I expect you’ll be on the front step with flowers for him, and he’ll have chocolates for you.”

“Good riddance – not missed by me and not missed by anyone else on our staircase.”

“Gone before you have started on your work for the day. I doubt someone like yourself is ever free from work.”

“Just bits. Cleaning. Making my pension go further, what with the price increases, you have to work. Not that he would hear me complain. From the bastard Chekist group, a spy in his own country. Complain to him about anything, that he leaves mud on the staircase from his shoes, and he will denounce you. They are the secret police, the new power.”

“They are shit. Will he go early?”

“He goes at dawn. First flight of the day. He has two men with him and they take him to the airport. They fly later, and then they are finished with him. They told me.”

“Do not love him then?”

“No! They are Chekists, but juniors. They worked for his father and why his father believed he needed protection I do not know. We think that they are responsible for him, are paid even to wipe his arse . . .” She crumpled with laughter. “They carry guns, I have seen them. They despise him. He has no friends, no visitors. People from his work, they do not come. He lives like a hermit. No women come, not even whores. He may be important but he is alone.”

“Not moving to a different place in Murmansk?”

“Do you listen to me? I said the first flight in the morning. He goes to Moscow, his men told me. But . . .”

“Yes?”

“Why do you ask? What is your interest?”

“No interest, just conversation.”

“Do you look to denounce me? I talk too much? My husband, he said I talk too much.

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