James Benn - Rag and Bone

“That is acceptable,” Sidorov said. “Since Captain Vatutin is with us, why don’t you start with him?” Vatutin tried to smile to show that he didn’t mind, but it was hard for him, coming out more like a snarl. He smiled more readily when drunk, I recalled from our last meeting.

Bull walked us to a small room past the communications equipment, and shut the door with a clang. Big Mike stood against the door, as if daring either Russian to try and leave. I sat at a desk, empty except for a pad of paper and a pencil. Tools of the trade. Sidorov and Vatutin sat opposite me.

“How well did you know Gennady Egorov?” I said.

“Comrade Egorov was a fine man, an exemplary Communist,” Vatutin said, darting his chin forward.

“Come, Rak,” Sidorov said. “We don’t need funeral orations here. Simply tell the lieutenant the truth. You know, the thing that actually happens?”

“Yes, I know the truth,” Vatutin said. “But do these Americans deserve it?” Sidorov nodded, and Vatutin shrugged, as if the responsibility for uttering this precious commodity was no longer his. “Egorov was not well liked. Some might say he did his job too well.”

“What was his job?”

Vatutin struggled with this, but continued after an encouraging nod from Sidorov. Whatever the ranks they wore on their uniforms, it was evident that in the NKVD Sidorov was the boss. “The same as ours, to act as security for the embassy, to gather information, and to be sure none of our own were seduced by the West. But he had no sense of balance, no ability to let even the slightest infraction go unnoticed.”

“Do you let infractions go unnoticed?”

“Of course. People need to feel they are getting away with something once in a while. It helps them cope with being in a strange country. Letting off steam, you say, correct?”

“Yeah, we do. I have to say I’m surprised. I thought you Soviets were a tough bunch.”

“There is another reason,” Vatutin went on. “If you stop every infraction, then you can never tell who will go on to commit a more serious one. But Egorov didn’t care about that, he cared only about looking good to our superiors. So he denounced anyone he could.”

“What did that get him? Didn’t your superiors know the kind of guy he was?”

“Yes. One who would do whatever he was told, without the slightest thought of anyone else.”

“That was an advantage. Did he ever denounce you?”

“No. I gave him no cause,” Vatutin said.

“Did you know where he was going the night he was killed?”

“He told both of us he was meeting a contact. That’s all.”

“Who else besides the three of you have that much freedom of movement, to go out alone?”

“The ambassador, but he would never go alone. Along with our immediate superior, we are the designated security.”

“You mean NKVD?”

“That is unnecessary to go into,” Sidorov said. “The three of us-

Egorov, Vatutin, and I-were the operational security team.”

“OK, but no one else, other than the three of you, could just stroll out alone?”

“According to the rules, that is correct. But in actual practice, it could be done,” Vatutin said.

“Who is your superior?”

“No one at the moment,” Vatutin said grudgingly. He looked at the wall, the floor, then at his hands.

“Osip Nikolaevich Blotski?” I asked. Vatutin’s eyes shot up to meet mine. Bingo. From me he looked to Sidorov, who looked as if he’d never heard the name, which was damned odd, since old Osip had been beaten within an inch of his life the night of the opera. Seeing no reaction from Sidorov, Vatutin decided it was up to him.

“Yes,” he said. “We worked under Comrade Nikolaevich.”

“And now?”

“Captain Sidorov is in charge, until a replacement is named,” Vatutin said.

“Congratulations,” I said to Sidorov. “Who planned this move? Who knew about it in advance?”

“Comrade Nikolaevich had approved the transfer of the planning staff to Dover the day before he was attacked. It had been presented to the ambassador by the British Foreign Office, since it involved the relocation of a number of Soviet citizens. A delicate matter.”

“So it was left to you to work out the details,” I said to Sidorov. “The logistics, the deception plan?” He nodded.

“Why would Comrade Nikolaevich go out alone, at night?” I asked.

“That surprised me, I must admit,” Vatutin said. “He did enjoy walking in the parks for exercise, but always during the day, with a companion.”

“Any idea why he went that night?” Both men shook their heads, clueless.

“Was Egorov in charge of scheduling the shipments of produce to the embassy?” I said, trying a different tack. Vatutin sat, silent. “Was that your responsibility then?”

“No,” he said.

“Whose was it? His?” I pointed at Sidorov. “Protecting your boss?”

“No.”

“The ambassador’s?”

Sidorov laughed, and nodded to Vatutin again.

“All right. It was Egorov’s. We were forced to investigate him. He found out and was quite angry,” Vatutin said.

“What did you find out?”

“Nothing. We followed him, but he never met with anyone suspicious.”

“But he must have met with his contacts,” I said.

“He told you, no one of a suspicious nature,” Sidorov said. “This line of questioning must cease. We have a responsibility to protect our countrymen on duty in Great Britain. Our meeting with contacts to insure the continued safety of Soviet citizens is not part of this investigation.”

“OK, I get it,” I said. “So someone was tipping off a London gang, and you’re sure it wasn’t Egorov.”

“No. As Comrade Vatutin said, we never saw him meet with anyone suspicious. The manner in which he was killed, and the map you found, both suggest he was involved. He was a careful man, so we would not expect to find evidence easily. It was his death that showed he was. And, remember, the hijackings stopped after his death.”

“Right,” I said. I wished Sidorov would leave so I could give Topper’s message to Vatutin and watch his reaction. Time and place. Time and place for what? It sounded like another hijacking, but I wasn’t sure. “Who took over that responsibility, after Egorov was killed?”

“I did,” Sidorov said. Strange, I thought. Did Vatutin have access to the same information? Was he rifling through the boss’s files, or did Sidorov delegate the details to him?

“Any valuable shipments coming up?” I asked. I kept my eyes on Vatutin, who betrayed nothing, shaking his head. I thought I saw Sidorov’s eyes widen for a split second, but by the time I gave him my attention, his face was a mask.

“No, just the normal supplies, or have I forgotten something, Rak?”

“No, not at all,” Vatutin said.

“OK, I can’t think of anything else. Thank you for your time.”

“You haven’t noted anything,” Sidorov said, tapping his finger on the blank paper.

“Yes, I have,” I said, tapping the side of my head. Big Mike opened the door, and we all got up. I asked Sidorov if he would bring in the next officer, and got between him and Vatutin as we exited the room. As soon as he was a few paces ahead, I took Vatutin by the arm and pulled him close.

“Topper wants to know time and place,” I whispered. He pushed me away with the kind of look you’d give a pervert. He hustled down the corridor, toward the safety of his comrades.

“What the hell did you say to him, Billy?”

“Just gave him a message, Big Mike. Do me a favor and follow him. Let me know whom he talks to.” Big Mike went after him, his long strides closing the gap in no time.

A few minutes later, Sidorov brought in a Red Army major, an engineer in charge of working with the Eighth Air Force on preparing runways. He knew a little about tractors, less about English, and nothing about Egorov. There was a marked difference in Sidorov with this fellow, and the next. None of the urbane chatter about telling the truth, or admissions of letting infractions slide. It was all business, his stern voice translating my questions into Russian. I had no idea if the engineer was telling the truth, but I was sure he was too scared to lie. Same for the next few. After a colonel broke into a sweat that beaded up on his lip and dripped onto his tunic, I gave up.