Gulag by Sean Flannery

Author:Sean Flannery
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

14

A thin blue glow rose from the U.S. Situation Room at the Warehouse, its light diffused through the tall windows in Valeri’s office. A harsh circle of yellow light illuminated his desk and typewriter, throwing the rest of the room in shadow.

Someone had cleaned up the glass from the floor and the tea mess from the large wall map. His father looked sternly at him from one of the photos. Each time Valeri glanced up, his father’s eyes seemed to be telling him something: “Take care, Valerik, all the brave men are in prison.”

His report was as complete as he could make it at this point in his investigation. He had not spared his speculations, nor had he hesitated to name names and set down conversations, including those with Larissa Okulov and her brother-in-law, as well as with General Demin and Bertonelli. An exercise in futility, he wondered, for who would see the report? Not Uncle Gennadi. Perhaps Chairman Chernetsov. Perhaps no one. Perhaps it would be cremated with him.

Someone was on the iron stairs. Valeri looked up as Votrin came in. The little surveillance man looked angry and confused. Steam rose from his coat. He reeked of vodka.

“Can you tell me what the fuck is going on, Comrade Major?” He took off his hat and tossed it aside, then unbuttoned his coat with thick fingers. “First we’re sent to watch Bertonelli, then we’re called off. Next we’re sent to search his apartment, but again we’re called off. Finally we’re sent to arrest him. At long last, I say to myself, we’ll have a go at the bastard in Lubyanka. But no, once again we’re called off. Frankly, I’m a confused fucker.”

Valeri locked his report in a desk drawer, and pulled out a bottle of cognac and two glasses. He poured them both a drink and handed Votrin his. He raised his glass.

“What shall we drink to, Oleg Dimitrivich? It looks as if you’ve already had a very good start.”

Votrin tossed his drink back and held out his glass for more. Valeri poured it.

“Don’t be antisocial. You have something on your chest. Spit it out. Between us we will be able to work out your problem. Never let it be said that the efficiency of our office suffered because of a basic lack of understanding.”

“Are we going to arrest that bastard or not?”

“Not yet.”

“Pardon me, sir, but Mikhail is just as confused as I am.”

“Mikhail?” Valeri asked in wonderment.

“Captain Shevchenko. I was just with him. It was he who called me off. Said they were your orders. He bought me supper across the street.”

Valeri closed his eyes. Mikhail was supposed to be home with his family, celebrating Winter Festival. He had offered to come in. His telephone had been busy the same time as General Demin’s. Coincidence?

“He thinks Colonel Okulov was trying to get something on Bertonelli so that we could arrest him, you know. It was Bertonelli’s fault. All of it. But we have to take him before he runs off.

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