Michael Beres - Chernobyl Murders

The afternoon was quiet, and everyone was tired. Lazlo, Bela, Mariska, and the children slept while Juli and Nina kept watch.

They sat in chairs to the side of the daybed. On the other side of the room, the three guards alternated throughout the afternoon. With Komarov gone, the guards seemed at ease and less threatening.

Juli sat facing the guards at the kitchen table. As the afternoon wore on, she relived the scene in the wine cellar again and again.

Even though she knew she had killed Komarov in self-defense, she kept trying to imagine a different outcome. If she had not killed Komarov, he would have killed her, and he might have killed Lazlo and the others. If she had not come to the farmhouse, Lazlo might be dead instead of Komarov. She would have been in Czechoslovakia, and Lazlo would have been at Komarov’s mercy. Now it was different. Now they were both here at the mercy of Captain Brovko, whose plans were unknown.

“When is your baby due?” asked Nina suddenly from behind.

The question shocked Juli, made tears come to her eyes as she turned. “The doctor said near the first of the year.”

“Ilonka was born the same time of year, four years ago last January. Mihaly wanted a boy, but he was very happy when he saw Ilonka. I hope your child is not affected by the radiation.”

Despite her efforts not to weep, tears flowed down Juli’s cheeks.

At dusk Captain Brovko entered the house and said it was time to go. When Lazlo asked who was going, Brovko explained that everyone would finally be left in peace, but Juli and Lazlo had to go with him.

During the tearful good-byes, Juli knew there had been no way out of the dilemma from the beginning. Whatever happened to Lazlo and her now was already written down somewhere, perhaps in their own blood. Juli was surprised when Nina hugged her and whispered in her ear.

“Care for yourself and your baby. I have a feeling everything will be all right.”

Before going outside, Captain Brovko had Juli handcuffed to one of his men and handcuffed himself to Lazlo. The man handcuffed to Juli led her to the second of two remaining cars and got in the back seat with her while two men got in the front seat. The others, including Lazlo and Brovko, walked to the first car. Nikolskaia and another man got in the front seat of the car, but Brovko held Lazlo back. He led Lazlo to a spot between the cars and spoke with him quietly for several minutes. Although the sun had set and it was getting darker, there was still enough light for Juli to see Lazlo wiping at tears in his eyes.

When Brovko finished speaking with Lazlo, he led him to the lead car, and the two cars drove rapidly away from the house, down the hill, and through the village. Juli watched the car ahead in which Lazlo rode. She hoped she and Lazlo would see each other again before they were sent to prison.

But then something strange happened. Instead of staying on the paved road after going through Kisbor, the lead car turned south onto the same dirt road Juli had taken early in the morning when she drove the Skoda into Kisbor. Only the taillights of the lead car were visible in the dust being raised from the road.

After a short distance, the cars pulled to the side of the narrow road and stopped. First the lead car shut off its lights, then the car she was in shut off its lights. They were in the middle of farm fields with no houses or buildings in sight. In the gathering darkness she saw Lazlo and Brovko get out of the other car. Brovko removed the handcuffs, and she saw Lazlo outlined against the purple evening sky. She imagined Lazlo being shot and left there, or his body taken back, Brovko saying he had tried to escape.

Juli pulled at the handcuffs, tried to open her door, screamed Lazlo’s name.

But in a few seconds the terror was over. Her handcuffs were removed, and she was in Lazlo’s arms. Then Lazlo took her hand and led her to the front of the cars. The black Skoda was there, ahead of the lead car where she had been unable to see it, the black Skoda looking like a child’s toy compared to the Volgas. She got inside the Skoda with Lazlo, and they drove away. When she looked back, she saw the two Volgas turn around on the dirt road and head north, their taillights becoming dimmer and dimmer in the distance.

“Laz, am I dreaming?”

“No. But we’ve still got to get into Czechoslovakia. We’ve got to do it soon because Brovko said the militia will be looking for us.”

“Why did he let us go?”

“He said he has training in nuclear engineering, and he, as well as others, had doubts about Komarov’s claims of sabotage at Chernobyl. He said it would be best for everyone involved if we were not taken back to Kiev. He also told me something else.”

“What?”

“Komarov murdered Tamara.”

Juli reached out and held Lazlo’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Laz.”

“Komarov killed his informant first, a poet from Tamara’s club.

Brovko said he doesn’t know why Komarov killed Tamara.” Lazlo paused. “Tamara would have wanted us to escape.”

Lazlo drove fast along the deserted farm road. When he reached a paved road, he turned north, and Juli saw a sign saying Uzhgorod was ten kilometers away. She remembered the instructions from the woman in Yasinya. First guardhouse to the north.

Ask for directions to Uzhgorod, then directions to Laborets Castle.

If the guard lectures about Prince Laborets’ murder in 903 AD, he is the correct guard.

Soon Juli could see it, a lighted guardhouse well off the road to the left. On the other side of the guardhouse, where the last light from the sun had disappeared, was Czechoslovakia.

Once they were on the main road to Lvov, the second Volga dropped back about fifty meters, and the headlights were not quite so bright.

Before leaving the spot where they left Detective Horvath and Juli Popovics, Captain Brovko announced they would spend the night in Lvov and drive to Kiev in the morning. Nikolai drove the lead Volga, with Brovko in the passenger seat. The four other men were in the second Volga.

Brovko turned on an interior light and consulted the map.

“About a hundred kilometers more. We’ll get there before the restaurants close. None of us has had a hot meal or a night of sleep in two days.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Captain. There are supposed to be some fine Polish restaurants in Lvov.” Nikolai glanced in the mirror at the following headlights. “I’ll bet the others are discussing our dinner in detail, right down to the size and texture of the dumplings.”

“They are good men,” said Brovko, turning out the light.

Except for an occasional oncoming car causing Nikolai to dim the headlights, the road was dark. It was still farm country, not as flat as the plateau they had come from, but with rolling hills, one after another like the hill on which the farmhouse was perched like a medieval castle.

“One would not have expected such a deep wine cellar,” said Nikolai. “Usually they are built into the side of a hill or a mound.”

“And surprisingly dry,” said Brovko. “It probably never floods because the water table is far below the hill.”

“None of the other men noticed the tin plates on the ground?”

“They noticed.”

“They did?”

“Yes,” said Brovko. “It’s one of many things I learned while speaking with them.”

“They knew the women and children were down there, yet they didn’t tell Komarov?”

“Correct. And they might not have told me if I’d asked them as a group. It’s always an advantage to compare individual observa-tions of a situation.”

“What about Detective Horvath and Juli Popovics?” asked Nikolai. “Wouldn’t it have been better to return them to Kiev?”

“There are overriding factors. I phoned Deputy Chairman Dumenko last night. I was assigned from the beginning to observe the situation and report back. There is concern in Moscow about what Komarov has tried to do and what he has done in the past.