Dan Smith - The Child Thief

Lermentov looked down at his hands and used a fingernail to scrape something from beneath his right thumbnail. Perhaps some oil from the rifle.

‘Are you a tsarist?’ he asked.

‘No. I joined the revolutionary army.’

‘But you didn’t stay.’

‘No.’

‘A counter-revolutionary, then.’

‘No.’

‘You’re sure? I can find out. It’s easy enough to make you admit to it.’

‘I think you can make me admit to almost anything.’

He nodded. ‘And now? Where do you live? What village?’

‘No village,’ I said. ‘I live by the hills. I grow a few potatoes, I hunt—’

‘With your illegal guns.’

I bowed my head. ‘I’m a soldier.’

‘I understand,’ he said, reaching down and unbuttoning the holster at his side. He drew out his pistol and put it on the table in front of him. ‘I feel naked without my weapon. Like you, I’m a soldier.’

‘Please’ I said. ‘I’ m looking for my daughter.’

‘We’ll get to that. What village are you from?’

‘I already told you, I live not far from here, in the hills.’

‘Hm.’ He took the pistol and sat back again, turning it over in his hand. The cigarette in the corner of his mouth burned with grey smoke that filled the space above us. He lifted a hand to take it between two fingers. ‘Something about you isn’t right.’

I didn’t reply.

‘Do you know why I’m here?’

‘No.’

‘They brought me from my nice life in Moscow to this shit hole because these peasants won’t do as they’re told. Did you know that the people in this village murdered the party activist who came here? They burned him alive just a few weeks ago.’ He shook his head. ‘And because these peasants want to keep everything for themselves, because they don’t want to be a part of the great plan, people like me – good communists, loyal to their leader – have to come down here and make sure they do what they’re told. And it makes me angry. It makes me…’ Again he shook his head, lips pursed tight. He dropped his cigarette to the floor and ground it with his boot heel before leaning forward again and staring right at me. ‘This morning two enemies of the state were sent from Uroz. Agitators. They were – they are – withholding vital information for the furtherance of the collective, so they were to walk here for interrogation, but they didn’t arrive. Do you know anything about that?’

‘No.’

‘I think you’re lying.’

‘No.’

His hand shot out, still holding the pistol, and struck me across the left side of the face. The violence of the blow twisted my neck, knocked me sideways from the chair. It had come with such speed and such ferocity that I had hardly even registered the movement before I found myself on the stone floor of the church, lying on my side, staring under the table at the policeman’s boots.

The floor was cold against my cheek, and I put my palms flat on the stone to push myself up, shaking my head, seeing brightness in my eyes.

‘Help him up,’ the policeman said with a hint of boredom, and there were hands on my clothes, dragging me up and pushing me back into the chair.

I rubbed the side of my face and raised my eyes to look at the man who had struck me. He was staring right back at me, leaning forward, his pistol on the table, one hand placed over it. Beside him, the bearded one refused to meet my eyes.

Lermentov continued to look at me for a while before he smiled. ‘I know. You hate me now and you’d like to kill me.’

‘No.’

‘Liar.’ He struck out again, but this time I saw him move and I leaned back, the blow missing me by the breadth of a blade of grass. The muzzle of the pistol hissed past the end of my nose, almost brushing it, and the policeman’s hand swung into nothing but air. I saw the strength he had used, because the man unbalanced himself, lurching sideways in his chair.

When he had composed himself, he spoke to the soldier behind me. ‘Hold him.’

And then hands were on me again and I was held tight.

The policeman stood and came to me, pulling the table away, making his bearded companion shift quickly.

‘Fast,’ the younger man said, raising the pistol and pressing it against my eye, pushing hard enough for light to explode in my vision. ‘But not fast enough.’ He removed the pistol, slipped it back into the holster before taking up the crucifix from the table. He smiled at me again and swung the crucifix against the side of my head, darkening my world.

When I opened my eyes, I was on the floor once more. Hands were on me, dragging me, but I was a deadweight. My face was numb and my feet were numb and everything refused to work. For a moment I wanted to be left alone on the cold stone. I wanted to curl into a ball and close my eyes and not wake up. But then I thought of all the things that were waiting for me and I forced my mind to work; forced my body to work.

I willed resolve into my muscles and I climbed back to the chair, seeing that the table had been straightened and the two men were sitting opposite me once more. I wiped a hand across my face and looked at the blood smeared on my fingers.

‘I think now we understand each other,’ the man said. ‘Am I right?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m in charge here and you will accept my authority.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you will stop lying to me.’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘Now let’s talk about my missing agitators. Where are they?’

‘I don’t know.’

He reached out and slapped me across the cheek, bloodying his hand. ‘Where are they?’

‘I don’t know.’

He slapped me again. ‘You killed them.’

‘No.’

He struck me again, turning my head, opening the cut on my cheek, spraying blood onto the table.

‘Admit to it.’

‘No.’

He hit me once more and the bearded man opposite flinched, looking away, pushing back his chair to avoid the blood.

The policeman turned to look at him with distaste. ‘If this is too much for you, Anatoly Ivanovich, then maybe you should leave.’

Anatoly Ivanovich swallowed and nodded. ‘There are things I should do. I—’

‘Just go.’

The peasant nodded and stood, scraping his chair on the stone as he pushed it back. He glanced at Lermentov before turning and walking away. He had almost reached the door when the OGPU man called out to him, his eyes still on mine.

Anatoly Ivanovich stopped and waited for Lermentov to leave the table and go to him. They spoke for a moment in the darkness at the far end of the church and then the bearded man left and the policeman returned to the table.

‘So, you were just saying that you killed my agitators.’

‘No.’

Lermentov rolled his eyes and sighed. ‘Am I going to have to keep hitting you, Luka? You’re a soldier; you know how this works. It’s my job. It’s what I was sent here to do, whether I like it or not, and I’ll do it properly. So I’ll keep hitting you and then I’ll put you back in that room to bleed. And before you can get any sleep, I’ll bring you back out here and I’ll hit you again. And it will go on and on. And when I finally get bored, I’ll have you shot.’

I stared at him.

‘Unless I get a confession.’

I looked away.

‘Where did you leave their bodies? It doesn’t matter that you killed them, they were enemies of the state, but I want to know where the bodies are.’

‘I didn’t—’

Lermentov picked up the crucifix and poked it at the hollow of my throat, the same place where Dariya had stabbed the child thief. I coughed loudly, doubling over.

‘All right,’ I said, straightening up, rubbing my neck. ‘All right. I saw tracks in the forest, but I didn’t see anybody. I was following other tracks, trying to find my daughter.’