Viktoriya watched Federov exit the café as Terentev climbed off the bar stool and walked over to her booth.
‘What did Federov have to say?’
‘That we are all going to hell in a hand cart… there is no effective opposition…’
The door of the café opened and the man she had seen in Terentev’s apartment that morning walked in. Terentev waved him over.
‘Any joy?’
‘I’ve given the photos to our best man; he remembers one or two operatives from that time. He knows it’s urgent… and that if he gets caught it’s probably curtains. The Emergency Committee are meeting at five this evening at the Defence Ministry. There is a broadcast booked for seven.’
The table fell silent.
‘We need to get Yuri out of Lubyanka,’ said Viktoriya. ‘If the conflict widens in Eastern Europe he’ll just be a footnote. Plan A was to kill him… they sabotaged his aircraft. There is no Plan B, not if he fails to support them and, knowing him as I do, he is not going to do that.’
The colonel nodded.
‘I’ve been thinking, Colonel. I have twenty-five fully armed men at the Leningrad Freight yard on the outskirts of Moscow – Yuri’s request before he was arrested. He gave no further instructions… I’m sorry I didn’t mention this before…’ said Viktoriya.
‘Well, we can’t storm Lubyanka. It’s bristling with guards.’
‘I’ve got another idea.’
Chapter 64
Terentev cricked his neck up at the clock set into the uppermost band of the yellow brick neo-baroque palace façade that was Lubyanka: midday. He cast a glance at Gaidar and the two men behind him dressed in military uniform.
‘Ready?’
The three of them nodded. One of the soldiers rearranged his grey ushanka, making sure the red star faced forward.
With the two soldiers squarely behind him, Terentev walked into the high-ceilinged entrance hall he had entered a thousand times before. Failure, he knew, would also make it the last time.
Two KGB officers, standing beside a grey granite desk, barred his way.
‘Colonel.’ The nearest snapped to attention while the other stood stock-still, his hands gripping the barrel and stock of the Kalashnikov strapped across his chest.
‘I’ve come to transfer a prisoner to Lefortovo.’
The officer entered their names in the log book, giving only a cursory glance to the official-looking paper Terentev produced from his inside pocket.
‘Thank you, Colonel.’ He saluted Terentev and Gaidar and stepped back.
Terentev led them left down the parquet corridor towards the rear of the building and the courtyard where the prison began, nodding occasionally at a familiar face. A second detail blocked its entrance. This time there was no salute. The officer in charge, a lieutenant, young, perhaps twenty-six – he had not seen him before – looked at him and his escort suspiciously.
‘Can I help you, Colonel,’ he asked. Behind him, three soldiers stood studying Gaidar and his men.
‘I’ve come to transfer General Marov to Lefortovo Prison – orders of the chairman.’
The lieutenant took the transfer form from Terentev’s hand and studied it before handing it to one of the men behind him.
‘What unit are you with, Major?’ said the lieutenant, directing his question at Gaidar.
‘Kantemirovskaya Division, under Lieutenant General Tretyak.’
‘General staff have assigned Major Gaidar to the transfer,’ added Terentev.
It was normal for the military to accompany high-ranking staff officers.
‘I haven’t heard of any pending transfer of prisoner Marov, Colonel.’
‘As you can see, Lieutenant, the order was only dated an hour ago.’
The lieutenant held out his hand for the transfer note. The soldier placed it in his palm. He studied it again. For a moment Terentev thought he might hold it up to the light, not that that would reveal anything. The paperwork was real enough; it was only the signature that had been forged.
‘Why don’t you call upstairs, Lieutenant? Third floor. I’m sure the chairman’s office will confirm the transfer. Extension 363. We are in a hurry, Lieutenant.’
Sometimes events hinge on the simplest of turns, thought Terentev. If the lieutenant called his bluff, they were done for.
The officer studied his and Gaidar’s faces before lifting the receiver and dialling.
‘Detail to collect prisoner Marov.’ The lieutenant turned to Terentev. ‘Someone will be up to escort you to the prisoner shortly, sir.’ The lieutenant snapped to attention.
Terentev cast a sideways glance at Gaidar, hoping that his relief did not show.
They did not have long to wait; a soldier led them down a narrow stone staircase. In the basement a wide corridor with cell doors extending either side reached to the corner of the building. Two plain-clothes officers emerged from one and walked past them. Terentev caught the sound of moaning from inside. They took the corner and stopped at a section protected by a steel-studded door.
‘General… prisoner… ’ he corrected himself, ‘Marov is being kept in isolation,’ the private said by way of explanation.
He stopped at the end door and flicked through the keys on his belt until he found the corresponding number to the cell door – 107 – inserted it in the lock and pushed.
Yuri looked up at the door as it opened and watched his friend and Gaidar walk in. The two of them were the last people he had been expecting to see. Terentev’s and Gaidar’s unsmiling faces warned him not to jump to his feet and grab them in a bear hug. Yuri noted the two soldiers standing behind Ilya and the prison guard.
‘A bit cramped in here, Major,’ he said, addressing Gaidar, ignoring Terentev.
‘We have orders to transfer you, General, to Lefortovo.’
‘Lefortovo? Am I a political prisoner now?’
Yuri had no idea about what was happening; he just had to trust in his friend.
‘General, I am Colonel Ilya Terentev, is there anything you need to take with you?’
Were they really going to try and just walk out of here? Yuri thought. Was that the plan? Yuri stood up.
‘I’m ready.’
With the prison guard leading the way, Yuri marched with Terentev and Gaidar directly in front of him and the two soldiers immediately behind. From their uniforms he assumed they were both Major Gaidar’s men. Twenty metres down the main corridor they passed two prison officers leading a smartly dressed man in a charcoal-grey suit and tie. He glanced up from the floor as they walked by and looked directly at Yuri. He had blood on his white shirt and his lip had been split; above his left eye a large livid swelling had begun to emerge.
Yuri wondered what had befallen Derevenko and Stephan. Were they buried somewhere in this hellhole? He wanted to stop and insist they found them, but he would only be putting other lives at risk. Ilya had managed to bluff his way in and presumably was about to bluff his way out. Stopping for passengers was not going to work.
Only the sound of their heavy footsteps marked the military procession. Yuri followed Terentev and Gaidar up the narrow staircase to the main floor. As they rounded the final corner and emerged into daylight, Yuri took a deep breath and slowly let the air out of his lungs.
A young lieutenant approached them. Terentev signed the release paper and they were through into the main corridor. Men and women in plain clothes and uniform bustled back and forth, throwing the occasional glance in his direction. Yuri wondered if anyone recognised him.
‘We are leaving by the east entrance,’ said Terentev over his shoulder. They took the next right down a service corridor and soon came out on the main corridor again but on the other side of the building. This was much less trafficked. Twenty metres along, three guards manned the exit onto a side street. They were deep in conversation. One of them noticed their detail approach and tapped his colleague on the arm.