Michael Beres - Chernobyl Murders

“Why should I tell him anything?”

The uniformed man shook his head, muttering as he walked to one of the green and white militia Zhigulis.

Tamara was correct when she said ministries were gloomy places.

The contrast between fresh outside air and the smell of floor cleaner and polish was apparent. As Lazlo walked quickly down a long hallway, a washerwoman standing on a ladder cleaning portraits turned to stare at him as if humans mattered less than the portraits of the bastards lining the walls. Bastards like Ryzhkov and Chebrikov and even Gorbachev. All bastards who followed the Party line so workers got lost in the woodwork of buildings like this.

The only person available at the Kiev office of the Ministry of Energy was a deputy minister named Mishin who wore thick glasses and spoke with a northern accent.

“You say everything is fine at the plant?” said Lazlo.

“Yes,” said Mishin. “Everything is under control.”

“If everything is under control, why are you here on Sunday?”

“The minister ordered it.”

“What exactly happened at Chernobyl?”

“I must repeat, everything is under control.”

“What about radiation and injuries?”

“We know of none.”

Lazlo felt like asking Mishin to remove his thick glasses so he could flatten his face.

“Pardon me if I seem outspoken, Comrade Deputy Minister, but I have relatives in the region, and I’m trying to determine if they are safe.”

“I know of no injuries or danger to the population. Because of the possibility of gossip developing, I’ve been ordered to quell false rumors. There was a minor incident at one of the reactors at the Chernobyl facility. Everything is under control, and no one is in danger.”

“Who is your minister?”

“His name is on the plaque at the entrance.”

“When will he be here?”

“Tomorrow morning with the rest of the staff. Perhaps by then there will be more news.”

In the lobby Lazlo took out his notebook and copied down the name of the minister of electric power, Viktor Asimov. At first all Lazlo could think of was his friend Viktor from the army. But then he considered the last name and wondered if the Chernobyl stories he was being told were science fiction. The washerwoman on the ladder turned to watch him leave.

Because he had visited Chief Investigator Chkalov’s house for May Day picnics in the past, Lazlo found it without knowing the address.

Chkalov wore a purple satin robe over dress trousers and invited Lazlo into a book-lined study. Chkalov had the housekeeper bring tea, and they sat across from one another in deep leather chairs.

“I understand your concern for your brother and his family, Detective Horvath. I wish I knew more about the situation up there.”

“I spoke with Deputy Chief Investigator Lysenko at a roadblock to the north. He said your orders were to stop northbound traffic.”

Chkalov stirred his tea with a plump finger. “Deputy Chief Investigator Lysenko phoned and said you were at the roadblock. He said you were upset names had not been taken down.”

“Communication to the area is cut off, and no one seems to know what’s happened. The Ministry of Energy insists everything is fine, but I heard a different story while sitting in a restaurant earlier this morning.”

“One rumor leads to another, Detective Horvath. People become upset, perhaps for no reason.”

“I don’t pretend to know the facts,” said Lazlo. “All I’m asking is that names be taken at the roadblocks.”

Chkalov rose and walked about the room with his tea. “Very well, Detective Horvath. I’ll order names be taken down. In the meantime, I need you at one of the roadblocks. Report immediately to the road from Korosten, and check with me tomorrow for further instructions. If the number of people coming south from the Chernobyl area increases, arrangements have been made at the Selskaya collective farm. Two hundred people can be housed there should the need arise.”

While Lazlo sat in the center of the room with his boss circling him like a fat, purple planet, he wondered what else Chkalov knew but refused to reveal.

“Your prime duty at the roadblock will be to make sure your officers do not add to the spread of rumors. For example, one of the men reports the hydrofoil to Pripyat is not running, yet we have no confirmation of this.”

“I must tell you, Chief Investigator, I’ve been to the Ministry of Energy.”

“And?” said Chkalov with a frown.

“I was told everything is under control.”

“Detective Horvath, the overall responsibility for Chernobyl is with the Ministry of Medium Machine Building. Since their office is in Moscow, perhaps things are being controlled from there. Is your brother a senior engineer?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure he knows enough to take care of himself. For now, we must maintain calm in our city by avoiding rumors. Go to headquarters and gather officers for your roadblock at Korosten. Above all, avoid rumors.”

Lazlo would follow his orders. But Chkalov knew more than he was saying, and had acted the way he’d seen Chkalov act when officers were in trouble. When he stopped at his apartment to pick up his pistol on the way to headquarters, Lazlo found a wineglass from the night before set upright on the table. He was certain the glass had been on its side when he and Tamara had left for breakfast. He remembered Tamara wiping at a droplet of wine from the overturned glass with her finger. Someone had been in the apartment since he and Tamara left this morning. At the roadblock, after picking up his officers, there were other things adding to Lazlo’s concern.

First, the number of cars coming from the Chernobyl area was on the rise, and occupants spoke of radiation and asked about the location of Kiev’s hospitals. Second, a black Volga was parked off to the side near the roadblock, the two occupants obviously KGB.

Normally this would not bother Lazlo, but with his apartment being broken into and with Chkalov saying less than he knew, Lazlo knew the KGB might be there to watch who came from the north to escape the radiation, or they might be there to watch him.

It was after noon on a Sunday, and Kievians out for their drives in the country were angry. While Lazlo watched his men arguing with drivers, he remembered the question he had saved for the wine cellar last summer. The question he had not wanted Nina or the children or the other relatives to hear.

What’s wrong at Chernobyl?

Several buses came through the checkpoint as the afternoon wore on. Rather than being from the towns of Pripyat or Chernobyl, the buses had picked up people in outlying areas south of the plant. Some said they were out for a Sunday walk when the bus came by. Others said they were on their way to spend a Sunday in Kiev anyway and welcomed the free ride.

But on one bus there were people from nearer the plant who knew about the accident. This bus overflowed with speculation.

They said Soviet army troops controlled traffic farther to the north.

A woman doctor on the bus, when asked what might be happening, said, “The children will get iodine prophylaxis, and then everything will be fine as long as the children are protected against any radiation. If there is radiation.”

One man on the bus from nearer the plant said the radiation would go north into the Belarussian Republic because of the southerly winds. Another man claimed parents trying to send children away would eventually besiege the railway stations. This same man insisted he saw a long line of buses heading north before he was picked up. A homeless woman wearing rags became hysterical, saying Gorbachev was a devil with a birthmark. A teenaged boy said he was a Young Pioneer and was certain the Pioneers would become involved in any rescue effort.