William Ryan - The Twelfth Department

Slivka took a step forward and her face became visible. She wasn’t smiling—if anything she looked angry.

“I didn’t have to—he told me.”

She nodded in Kolya’s direction—the Thief shrugged.

“You’re supposed to be showing me the ropes,” Slivka continued—more than just angry, it seemed—furious. “Turning me into a first-class detective—not skulking around behind my back.”

“Slivka, the only rope on this little trip is shaped like a noose. I want your neck kept out of it.”

Kolya was leaning against a car listening, and Korolev was suddenly reminded of a pointless argument he and Zhenia had once had while visiting her parents. Except that her parents had pretended not to notice, whereas Kolya sat watching them as if he were at the cinema.

“Kolya,” he said. “Tell her we’ve no room.”

“We’ve room,” Kolya said. “And Nadezhda’s a cool head in a tight spot. We can use her—I’ve only four men and Mishka. Another gun might come in useful. Besides, she has the right.”

And Korolev could see there wasn’t much point in arguing. After all, blood was blood and family was family. And Kolya’s son was her blood and her family.

“On your head be it then,” he said eventually.

And so he began to go through the plan all over again.

“And when we get to the house itself?” Kolya said. Korolev turned the piece of paper over, and showed them the rough plan of the buildings that he’d prepared with Azarova’s help.

“There are three main buildings surrounded by a wall—it’s about eight foot high, so manageable. The children’s dormitories are in the house itself. On the first floor. There’s a stable yard here, to the rear of the house, which was empty the last time Azarova was there—it might not be now. There’s also a newer building over here, to the left of the house—two stories, with several offices on the ground floor. What’s upstairs, she didn’t know.”

“Guards?”

“As she remembers it, there was one at the gate. An older man. But she remembers that the men and women who looked after the children looked like they might do more than turn down the beds at night. My suspicion is there will be more of them now.”

Then Korolev took a deep breath and told them his plan.

Korolev leaned against the trunk of a tree, waiting for Goldstein and Mishka to come back from scouting the place, and wishing it were possible to have a cigarette. It was strange, he thought, that in a situation where he should be, at the very least, apprehensive, he was instead consumed with desire for tobacco. He shifted his weight and did his best to keep his mind focused on the fear he should be feeling.

To his left, so close he could hear him breathing, was Kolya; and crouching on the ground in front of them was Slivka. Behind him, sitting on a tree trunk, were two more of Kolya’s men—Red Sasha and the Deacon. The other two had been left with the cars, just off the main road, to make sure they all had a way out of the place.

It was a good night for this kind of affair, the moon was more than half-full but there were enough clouds passing overhead so that they could move around unseen. There was a stillness in the air that made the small sounds of the woods behind seem amplified—but Korolev was more concerned about the occasional noise from inside the high walls. What if Goldstein had been discovered?

“There,” Kolya whispered, and pointed at a figure slipping over the wall at a point just ahead of them.

The boy dropped silently to the ground, sitting still for a long moment, before moving toward them at a crouch, pausing every now and then to listen and look—probably for them. When he was about twenty meters away Kolya gave a low whistle and the boy changed his course. When Goldstein reached them they retreated into the treeline.

“Well?” Kolya asked.

“The place is quiet enough. There’s a guard at the main gate and one that walks around the place every fifteen minutes, but that’s it, as far as I can see. The one who walks around is older and stout, he’s carrying a pistol. The one at the main gate looks younger and fitter—he’s got a pistol as well.”

“In his hand?”

“In his belt. They’re both wearing holsters.”

“What about the buildings?” Korolev whispered, covering the torch’s beam with his closed fingers so that only a pink glow came through. It was just enough to see Azarova’s map and the others crowded in close.

“The map is accurate enough,” the boy said. “The stable block was open and I had a look inside—it’s full of crates and equipment, but empty of people. The main house is a different story, three entrances. The front door is here,” he said, pointing. “It’s well-lit around it so I couldn’t check if it’s locked or not, but my guess is it is. This is the back door and that’s definitely locked, I tried it. This is the side entrance and it’s open. It seems to lead down to a kitchen of some sort and it’s where the walking guard goes when he isn’t walking. I heard voices there so there may be others inside. There are lights on in there anyway. Both downstairs and upstairs.

“This is the new building, which looks like it might be what we’re looking for. I heard a boy’s voice and there are lights on inside. I tried the doors here and here, but it’s locked up tight—and the windows are shuttered and secured as well. The walking guard has a key though—he went in for about five minutes while I was watching. I could hear him speaking to someone.”

“The boy’s voice?” Korolev asked, trying to keep his optimism under control.

“I couldn’t make out what he said but he was in a downstairs room—on the stable side. A woman was talking to him. I think it was the same woman who spoke to the guard.”

“Do you think he could be Yuri?”

“It’s possible.”

Kolya turned to him and Korolev found himself nodding.

“Anything else?”

“There are three trucks parked up by the stable block, there’s a car in front of the main house and a bus as well.”

“A bus?” Slivka asked.

“A small one—one of those ZIS ones.”

Korolev knew the model—a fourteen-seater. The number of vehicles concerned him, it could mean that there were more people about the place than he’d bargained for.

“Show us the walking guard’s route.”

Goldstein traced a route that ran from the side entrance around the inside of the square wall that guarded the buildings, stopping off at the main gate, the newer building and the stable block before returning back to the side entrance. According to Goldstein his circuit took no more than five minutes.

“You said there are lights.”

“The areas around the buildings are lit up but there are plenty of shadows around the walls to move about in. And the stables are only lit at this end.”

Goldstein pointed to the end of the stable block closest to the new building.

Korolev nodded and looked at his watch—it was coming up to midnight. He prayed the voice was Yuri’s.

They returned to the edge of the trees and didn’t have to wait long before Mishka’s crouched figure came into view, making its way carefully through the undergrowth. Again Kolya gave his low whistle and the Thief came toward them, one hand moving to his pocket—and Korolev didn’t doubt it had wrapped itself around a pistol.

Once Mishka was sure it was them he relaxed and swung the small rucksack he was wearing from his shoulder down onto the ground and squatted beside them. The wall, it turned out, continued right the way around the buildings and at no point was it lower than the part they were currently closest to; in fact in some places it was higher. There were two gates other than the main gate but both were locked, and apart from rough lanes that led into the woods, the metalled drive that led from the main road was the only way in and out—for cars at least. As for the phone line, he’d dealt with it.