Stuart Kaminsky - The Man Who Walked Like a Bear

Rostnikov expected the dogs. He also expected the guards. It would have been no problem to incapacitate the animals and the guards, but Rostnikov preferred, if at all possible, to give no indication of their visit. If Lukov, the manager of the factory, was telling the truth, a break-in might well alert those who were involved in the corruption, and once alerted, they might stop Rostnikov before he could act.

The plan was simple. Rostnikov had obtained upon requisition with the signature of Colonel Snitkonoy the car, a collapsible ladder, and a compact and portable battery-operated copying machine, a large, square box he handled with great care. He had also prepared a small box of tools. He had wrapped each tool individually in cloth to keep them from making noise. He had placed all these things gently in the trunk of the car before he had asked Zelach to drive him. In his pocket Rostnikov carried a rough map he had drawn showing the location of Lukov’s office and that of Raya Corspoyva. He had given copies of the map to both Karpo and Tkach to study after they had parked down the street from the Lentaka Shoe Factory.

They had watched the factory for two hours and discovered that the guards had a simple, slovenly routine. Every half hour they would walk out the front door together and go in opposite directions, circling the entire factory and meeting again in front. The circuit took a little over eleven minutes. That would give Rostnikov, Karpo, and Tkach twenty minutes to get into the factory and back to the car.

The moment the guards made their fourth circuit, Karpo had, with lights out, driven quickly down a road to the right of the factory. The fence that surrounded the factory was no problem. It had not been designed as a serious deterrent but as a warning. There wasn’t even barbed wire across the top of the fence, but that did not surprise the policemen. Barbed wire, which was really of little value in keeping out a determined burglar, sent a message that something of value was beyond the fence.

Within seconds of their arrival, Karpo had the ladder out of the trunk and over the fence. The ladder, an ingenious French device that could be set in various patterns, was locked to straddle the fence. Sasha Tkach, carrying the toolbox that Rostnikov had handed him, hurried over the ladder, followed by Karpo, who carried the large metal box with a handle. Rostnikov, for whom the task would be monumental even if he were not carrying a copying machine, albeit a very compact battery-operated one, came last. Rostnikov did not even attempt to use his left leg. He pulled himself up by one powerful arm, using his right leg as a guiding rudder. When they were all within the grounds of the factory, Rostnikov put down the machine and pulled the ladder over, collapsing it into a compact square, which he handed to Karpo.

When they reached the outer wall of the factory, Rostnikov checked his watch. Four of their twenty minutes were gone. Leading the way, Rostnikov came to the window he knew to be Lukov’s. It was, as he expected, locked. With Tkach watching in one direction and Karpo in the other, Rostnikov took his toolbox from Tkach, removed the proper instruments, and began quickly, efficiently to remove the pane of glass from the window. It took him but fifteen seconds. Karpo reached in and opened the latch. Then he slid the window up slowly, cautiously, almost noiselessly, but not noiselessly enough. Inside, beyond the door to Lukov’s office, they could hear the dogs stirring, sensing something but not yet sure of it. Karpo unsnapped the ladder, quickly formed it, and put it through the open window.

Tkach scrambled up the ladder and through the window. Karpo handed him the two boxes and the machine and climbed through after him. Outside, Rostnikov closed the window and immediately began to replace the window-pane, while Karpo, using a small flashlight, moved to the files in the corner and, using a thin, flat piece of metal, opened the lock and began to search for the name Rostnikov had given him.

Beyond Lukov’s office the dogs were now alert. In the dim night-lights of the factory, the policemen could see the animals sniffing the air and could hear their low growls. Almost seven minutes had passed.

Sasha knelt at the door with the large box on the floor next to him. Something moved in the box. Something inside let out a low, angry squeal.

The quick-drying putty he had used was already hardening when Rostnikov began to rub it with dark polish to make it match the other panes.

As he did so, the dogs went wild and headed for Lukov’s office. Sasha opened the door, flipped open the large box, and instantly closed the door as Karpo turned off his flashlight and Rostnikov pulled himself through the window over the ladder. As the badger that Sasha had released scrambled across the factory floor and leaped upon a stack of synthetic leather, Rostnikov pulled the ladder in and closed the window.

Beyond the door the dogs barked. The badger hissed and barked back. One of the dogs in a frenzy crashed into a sewing machine, sending it clattering on the concrete floor. Peeking over the window in Lukov’s door, Rostnikov saw the two guards rush in. One guard was short, old. The other massive, young, and carrying a gun.

Their voices carried through the door but not their words. The old man shouted at the dogs. The young man shouted at the old man and moved past him, seeing the badger on the pile of false leather.

“What is that?” the young man asked the old one.

“A thing,” said the old man.

The badger saw the man with the gun and dug its claws into the material beneath its feet, sending the top sheet of material sliding behind him. The badger lost its grip and came flying onto the back of one of the dogs. The dog screamed and began to run madly around the factory, the badger clinging to him, the other dogs yelping. The massive young guard fired wildly, missing the badger but taking the left ear off of one of the dogs. The dog squealed in pain and turned on the young guard, who backed into a sewing machine.

The old man was confused, uncertain. The young man took aim and shot the attacking dog with the bloody ear as it was running at him.

The badger now leaped from the dog, leaving bloody patches on its back.

“The dog!” the old man clearly shouted. “You didn’t have to shoot him! Shoot that thing!”

“I know, you fool!” screamed the massive young guard, ready to shoot the other dogs if they decided to attack.

The old man moved forward, petting the frightened dogs, comforting the whimpering, wounded animal. He led the frightened and now docile animals toward the door through which he and the massive guard had entered. One of the unwounded dogs turned his head for a final less-than-enthusiastic growl in the direction in which the badger had fled.

“So,” the old man shouted, “go, take your gun and shoot that thing instead of some innocent dog!”

“I will!” the massive man shouted back.

And the old man led the dogs out, closing the door behind him.

Now the young guard was alone, or thought he was alone, with a dangerous unknown animal, an animal that the guard was afraid might be the more intelligent of the two.

The guard moved cautiously forward, heard a sound to his right, and decided to retreat through the door, which he closed firmly behind him.

The moment he was gone, Rostnikov, Karpo and Tkach were up.

If the guards went back to their normal rounds, the policemen had twelve minutes to complete their task. Karpo moved back to the files with his flashlight. Rostnikov opened the door to the office and with Tkach holding the box stepped into the factory. Rostnikov moved instantly to his right toward the office of Raya Corspoyva, and Tkach opened a heavily wrapped cow’s heart that Rostnikov had carried in his toolbox.