Owen Matthews - Black Sun

The minutes ticked by. Starlings wheeled around the domes of the old monastery. Foolishly, Vasin found himself straining his ears to listen. His fingers closed on the edge of the desk, bracing. But the air did not burst into flame. The hand of the clock moved slowly on. And the earth continued to turn, moving Arzamas slowly toward the noonday sun. Somewhere, beyond the horizon, Adamov’s black sun ignited its own terrible dawn.

“My dear fellow!”

Orlov sprang from his desk and took Vasin’s hand in both of his. The General’s face was animated with a grin of triumph. Holding Vasin by the arms, he looked his protégé up and down, as though checking that Arzamas had returned him in one piece. Orlov turned Vasin half around and inspected the thick dressing on the back of his neck. Vasin met his chief’s eye, searching for any dancing spark of anger that would betray that word of his affair with Katya had reached Orlov. But he saw nothing other than a glow of pride in the General’s face.

“Our wounded hero! Scoundrel nearly knocked your head off its neck, I’m told. But my boys are tough. Tough as nails.”

Orlov squeezed the bandage hard, bringing tears of pain to Vasin’s eyes.

“Sit! Sit.”

The General steered Vasin into a chair, then bounced down into his own.

“A remarkable triumph. And yet you said nothing, all these days. Nothing about your suspicions. Quite the dark horse you are, Vasin.”

Orlov’s chestnut eyes scrutinized Vasin’s face with the intensity of a searchlight.

“Didn’t wish to raise any false accusations until I had evidence, Comrade General.”

“Naturally.”

“Given the sensitivity of the charges. Sir. And the positions of the suspects.”

“Of course. You acted correctly.”

Orlov’s rare smile remained switched on, unwavering as a lightbulb. He waited for Vasin to continue.

Vasin smiled back, with suitable modesty, but said nothing.

“Pavel Korin,” Orlov continued eventually. “Who would have thought? I read his file, of course, as soon as his name came up in the Petrov investigation. Some doubtful episodes in Korin’s past, of course. But a spy? Well. That came as a surprise. Of course all the clues to his treachery are there, if you look for them with the right eyes. A bacillus, introduced by our American so-called allies, let loose in the very heart of our defenses at the very moment that we were supposedly fighting side by side. Yes. Your story tracks well. I cannot fault your scenario, Vasin.”

“My scenario, sir?”

Vasin felt his mouth go dry. Had Orlov guessed the truth? If so, the General’s poker face gave nothing away.

“Your investigator’s logic, I mean.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“I will assign an operative group to investigate the damage Korin may have done over his career of treachery. I have no doubt that they will come up with much that is useful to me. And we will be reviewing your debrief in detail over the next few days. If your doctors permit it.”

“Even if they do not, sir, I am ready.”

“Good man.”

“And Adamov, sir? You have spoken to him?”

Adamov. During the flight from Arzamas to Moscow, Vasin had not spoken a word to the Professor. But they had exchanged a long look. Of complicity? Thanks? Resentment? Vasin had no idea what Adamov hid behind his grave, fierce stare. Up there, among a bright tumult of clouds, Adamov was in his natural element. Once more they had become men of different worlds.

Orlov’s smile did not flicker, though he did not answer immediately.

“The Comrade Professor is being most cooperative. Though of course he is also busy receiving the congratulations of Comrade Khrushchev and his colleagues at the Academy. For his brilliant work.”

Vasin had heard the official announcement on a radio in the KGB sanatorium that morning. The Motherland’s new bomb, a terror to our enemies, a shield that will protect our socialist home from aggression. A bomb to strike fear into the capitalist cowards.

“I am glad. I was afraid he would have mixed feelings. Korin was the Professor’s old friend.”

“Korin was a friend to many, Vasin. To many. He was a deceiver. Ruthless. Clever. A most dangerous enemy.”

“And the Professor’s wife? She is well?”

Something sly and pointed had crept into Orlov’s smile.

“Interesting that you should ask. I believe she is well. She assisted you during your investigations?”

Vasin shifted uncomfortably on his chair but did not answer.

“Sir, may I ask you a question?”

“You may.”

“Why did you send me to Arzamas? What did you think I would find there?”

“Ah, Vasin. You flatter me. You think I know everything in advance.”

“But you had something in mind? Somebody?”

Orlov gave an exaggerated shrug.

“You have earned the right to know my thoughts. So I share them with you. Perhaps you will learn something from them. It is very simple. Petrov was a golden child. The son of a man who has every chance of becoming the President of the Academy of Sciences. The young man kills himself. Perhaps. But, why? A girl is not interesting to us. Depression? Likewise. However, maybe there is something more to it. Something that his father would prefer to keep hidden. So. As guardians of so many uncomfortable secrets, we in this office have the duty to discover what happened. Strictly in the interests of State security, of course. What if someone else, some enemy, discovered a sordid secret about Fyodor Petrov? This would give them power over his father, one of our most respected scientists. We will not allow this to happen. This much you guessed already, I suppose?”

Vasin nodded obediently.

“And if it was not suicide but murder? Well, even more interesting. The murder weapon was so exotic. Almost the bite of a speckled band snake. I see from your smile that you know your Conan Doyle. Good. So, who would use this rare, radioactive poison? Only a colleague. Obviously. Perhaps a powerful colleague. Someone in authority who no longer deserves the trust of the Motherland. And if you wish to ask, did I suspect Adamov, my frank answer is no. Not specifically. I had no knowledge of his personal history with Petrov’s father. But did I think that such a story could be behind this affair? I did.”

“So you sent me on a fishing expedition?”

Orlov’s unnatural bonhomie finally evaporated, replaced by his usual scowl.

“Naturally. That is what I do, Vasin. I fish. Sometimes with trawls. Sometimes with flies. Sometimes with baited fish traps. And you are my obedient little fly. My very obedient fly.” The General’s gaze wandered to the glass paperweight with its eternally trapped dragonfly that sat on his desk.

Suddenly, out from under their deeply hooded lids, Orlov’s eyes flicked up to meet Vasin’s.

“Only the weak hate. You know that, don’t you, Vasin?”

“Sir?”

“The weak hate. The stupid hate. The strong act. The clever act, but not always immediately. The intelligent keep score. They keep accounts.”

An unmistakable note of menace had crept into Orlov’s voice.

“Not sure I follow you, sir.”

“Would you like to know where my dear Katya’s last two lovers are now?”

Vasin froze. Even the throbbing of his injuries disappeared in the suddenness of his shock. Orlov straightened in his chair, not releasing Vasin from his angry stare.

“You would like to know, wouldn’t you? How rich is your imagination, Vasin? Tell me. Tell me .”

Orlov’s voice had sunk to a low hiss, and his eyes glistened with a sadist’s glee.