Chapter 71
MOSCOW
Volkov looked at the assembled. Karzhov had walked into the room five minutes before and was deep in conversation with Dubnikov in the corner of the room; the others had dotted themselves around the long mahogany table with papers spread out in front of them. Opposite, the head of the Peasants’ Union worked his way through a long list of names. Volkov watched him studiously placing ticks and crosses against them, settling old scores, removing opposition. He passed the list to the interior minister, who edited it here and there before bagging it in his portfolio case and zipping it firmly shut.
‘Everything in order, General?’ he asked.
It was, apart from the whereabouts of that idiot Marov, but he did not have time to respond. The large double doors at the end of the room flew open and Gerasim Gerashchenko strode purposefully in. The deputy general secretary took his seat at the head of the table and called the meeting to order. Karzhov and Dubnikov hurried to their places, casting a glance in Volkov’s direction. Gerashchenko looked pale, exhausted. Dark circles pooled under his eyes. How long had it been since they had precipitated this venture?’ Volkov thought. Was it only three days?
When Gerashchenko spoke, he did so with the voice of a man who no doubt felt the weight and future of the Soviet Union upon him.
‘Comrade Chairman,’ he said, looking at Karzhov, inviting the KGB chair to speak first.
Karzhov picked up a typed sheet of paper and cast his eyes down the page.
‘Deputy General Secretary, comrades,’ started Karzhov, ‘I can report that, as of this morning, internal opposition to the new government has been neutralised.’ A good word, thought Volkov – neutralised – very KGB. ‘Russians are giving us the benefit of the doubt for the moment, as are the other Soviet republics. Rest assured we will take whatever action is necessary to maintain calm.’
‘And East Germany?’ asked the interior minister.
Gerashchenko interrupted, ‘I spoke with the East German premier an hour ago. He is confident that with our support he can reassert his authority.’
Our support? thought Volkov. Two hundred thousand Soviet troops would begin retaking the streets tomorrow.
‘I know we can rely on General Volkov,’ he added. ‘Once we have re-established order we can replace the premier with a fresh face, not immediately. We do not want to be encouraging more dissent.’
‘And the general secretary, do you have his resignation in writing yet? We need to conclude this matter.’
‘Within the hour, Secretary,’ Karzhov said confidently; he did not elaborate. Indeed, none of them wanted to know the detail; that was Karzhov’s responsibility. The general secretary would go quietly one way or the other, of that Volkov was sure.
The soft burring of the phone next to Gerashchenko interrupted proceedings. He picked it up. It must be important to have interrupted the meeting, thought Volkov. The secretary looked in his direction as he listened.
‘General, apparently General Marov is in reception, demanding to join the meeting. I thought he was under lock and key?’
‘That was the case until this morning. My men have been looking for him but it seems he has found us.’
‘My men can rearrest him,’ chipped in Dubnikov, looking at Volkov as though his men were incapable of that feat.
‘He has warned me against that.’ Gerashchenko shrugged. ‘Let’s see what he has to say; there can be no harm in that. Maybe we can win him over.’
Chapter 72
Gaidar was the first to spot the military checkpoint thrown across the wide lane above Pavlenko. Viktoriya counted five heavily armed soldiers standing behind a makeshift manually operate red-and-white painted boom. To the right, another soldier manned a heavy machine gun behind a neatly constructed wall of sandbags that curved protectively around him.
The soldier nearest the barrier shouted ‘Halt!’ as Viktoriya observed the man in his sandbag redoubt hunker down behind the gun and trail its barrel towards them. Gaidar’s military uniform clearly confused them. One of the soldiers standing beside the barrier said something to the gunner. Grit and mud zipped around her a split second before she heard the deafening sound of the machine gun weave its deadly path. Viktoriya covered her ears and fought the urge to throw herself on the ground.
‘Soldier!’ shouted Gaidar, when seconds later the rapid tuck-tuck of the machine gun stopped. Their presence would no longer be secret. ‘This is Major Gaidar of the Kantemirovskaya Division.’
When Viktoriya turned to find Terentev, he was no longer there, nor was the soldier with the night visor. She quickly counted the number of heads she could see in the narrow beam of light that flooded towards them from the barrier: twenty men – that left Terentev and four others unaccounted for. She looked up at the two-metre-high bank of scrub and pine needles that followed the lane along its right side towards the temporary barrier and then back down the lane where they had just come and the ink-black forest beyond. Where had they got to? she wondered. She couldn’t believe Terentev had deserted them.
‘What are you doing out here, Major? Peredelkino is strictly off limits. You should know that? How did you get here?’ Sound carried perfectly over the fifty metres that separated them. An owl cooed and then another a little further off. In the near distance, Viktoriya could hear the rising rumble of approaching vehicles.
‘Throw down your weapons, Major,’ the soldier ordered. Viktoriya watched the gunner tilt the barrel a fraction higher. They would all be dead in an instant if he squeezed the trigger.
‘Drop your weapons, Sergeant.’ It was Terentev’s voice from behind the barrier. She looked up at the bank and saw Terentev and three other soldiers lying flat, their Kalashnikovs extended in front of them; a fourth soldier had his gun pointing directly at the back of the gunner at a distance of no more than ten metres.
‘Soldier,’ it was Gaidar’s voice, ‘Let’s all remain calm. It’s your commanding officer I need to speak with.’
As he finished speaking, a truck ground to a halt behind them and ten soldiers jumped down off the back board. A lot of people were going to die, Viktoriya thought, if someone lost their nerve. An eerie silence descended on the impromptu gathering as they faced off, soldier on soldier. Only the sound of the diesel engine ticking over disturbed the still night air.
‘Major, it’s me you need to speak with.’ In the glow of the truck’s headlights, Viktoriya made out the silhouette of the man who had spoken. ‘I think it would be best if we avoided any unpleasantness.’
Gaidar lowered his gun and walked to the rear of his small column.
‘You’re not with Kantemirovskaya Division, are you, Major, if that’s what rank you truly are?’
‘Major Gaidar works for me,’ said Viktoriya, before Gaidar had a chance to explain himself. ‘And right now I represent General Marov.’
‘General Marov?’ He almost sneered. ‘You are backing the wrong horse, comrade.’
‘Viktoriya Nikolaevna—’
‘Kayakova of Leningrad… ah yes. Is it the “Gang of Two”?’ The colonel laughed. ‘And what is it you are trying to do here? Recue our ailing general secretary? I’ve fifty men between where you are standing and his dacha. You are not going to get very far.’ He took a step forward. Gaidar raised his Kalashnikov.