‘Look, Comrade,’ Korolev said, confidence returning to his voice, ‘either tell me what your business is, or let me go back to my bed.’
The Chekist seemed to relent. ‘You don’t need the suitcase, Comrade. Colonel Rodinov wants a few minutes of your time – that’s all. The phone system is down so we couldn’t call. I’ve a car outside. My name is Todorov.’
Korolev didn’t shake the Chekist’s hand, or respond to his introduction. Instead he picked up his overcoat and nodded towards the stairs to indicate he’d follow the fellow. He thought for a moment of going in to reassure Valentina Nikolaevna, but decided against it. He wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Korolev had been waiting in a narrow room, so narrow and so long it was almost a corridor, for the best part of an hour. A stern-looking Dzerzhinsky, the original People’s Commissar of State Security, looked down from a poster beside the far door warning him to ‘Be on your Guard!’, which Korolev thought was sensible advice, tired though he was.
He was about to look in his pocket for a cigarette when there was a bang that sounded like a door slamming shut and the click of approaching footsteps. Then the young Chekist who’d picked him up at Bolshoi Nikolo-Vorobinsky entered, the uniform he’d changed into crisp against the drab blue walls.
‘He’s ready, Comrade. He had some matters to attend to.’
Rodinov had changed in the short time since they’d last met. His skin was pale and flabby, whereas before it had been pink and taut, and his round, hairless head no longer seemed to shine with brutal vigour. The eyes that looked up from the file on the table were bloodshot and tired and the greeting he gave Korolev was nothing more than a grunt and a nod of his head towards the single chair in front of the desk at which he sat.
‘Korolev,’ he said after a moment or two, his eyes narrowing as he glared at him, as if willing Korolev to admit his guilt, even if he was guilty of nothing.
‘Yes, Comrade Colonel. Korolev. You sent for me.’
‘I did,’ the colonel said, and it wasn’t immediately clear whether he was questioning the suggestion or agreeing with it. He looked back down at the file in front of him.
‘Are you prepared to undertake a confidential mission connected with the security of the State, Captain Korolev?’
Well, there was only one answer to that question.
‘Of course, Comrade Colonel.’
‘Good.’ Rodinov pushed a photograph across to him. ‘Then it’s settled. Maria Alexandrovna Lenskaya. She was, until last night, a production assistant on Comrade Savchenko’s new film. Now she’s dead.’
Korolev examined the girl in the photograph.
‘Murder?’
The colonel seemed to consider the question, smelling his way round the answer in that fighting-dog way of his.
‘Apparently not,’ he said, seeming to produce the words reluctantly. ‘She killed herself, or so we’re told. But we want to make certain, which is where you come in.’
‘I see. When did it happen?’
‘She was found at ten o’clock this evening.’
‘Has anyone looked at the body? A pathologist, I mean – I’d recommend Chestnova at the Institute if not.’
‘No one has examined her and she died in the Ukraine, near Odessa, so I don’t think Chestnova will be much use. And we want this matter handled very quietly. At least until we have a better idea of the situation. Comrade Ezhov himself thought of you – he formed a favourable impression from that matter you assisted with last year. He recalled your tenacity, and your discretion.’ That slight emphasis on the word ‘discretion’ was setting off warning bells. Korolev was wide awake now, that was for sure.
‘I’m grateful he recalls me favourably,’ Korolev said, thinking exactly the opposite.
‘A great honour. And, as it turns out, your friend Babel is writing the film’s scenario – a happy coincidence.’
‘I see,’ Korolev said, wondering why me? Surely there was someone in Odessa who could handle this.
‘We think it best if you go there by chance. I’ve spoken to Comrade Popov and in recognition of your excellent performance in recent months, you’ve been awarded a two-week holiday – to be spent where you wish. You wish it to be spent near Odessa. It isn’t the summer down there, but it isn’t as cold as Moscow – so why wouldn’t you visit your good friend and neighbour, Babel? Isaac Emmanuilovich will be made aware of your true purpose and will no doubt do his best to help with your enquiries. One of our more competent Ukrainian operatives, a Major Mushkin, is coincidentally at the location on sick leave but will assist if necessary. If it’s suicide, you have two weeks to spend as you please. If it’s something else – well, I’m sure the local Militia would be grateful for the assistance of an experienced Moscow detective. You will, however, report to me. The local Militia will be involved only to the extent that you consider necessary. Understood?’
Korolev understood. He looked at the girl’s face once again. She seemed an ordinary person – not bad-looking to be sure, but at the same time not visibly worthy of the attention she seemed to be getting.
‘A few questions, Comrade Colonel?’
Rodinov opened his hands to signify his agreement.
‘Who is she?’
Rodinov paused and considered the question for a moment or two, his gaze dropping to the dead girl’s photograph before returning to Korolev. He sighed.
‘If I tell you she’s a personal friend of Comrade Ezhov’s, will that make more sense of the situation for you?’
Korolev felt his left eyebrow rising despite his best efforts to keep his face completely immobile, but the colonel shook his head.
‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Korolev. As you know, we’re surrounded by enemies, both within our borders and beyond them. We have to remain vigilant – careful of even the most innocuous event in case it reveals treachery. The girl was known to Comrade Ezhov – yes. He took an interest in her, as senior Party members often take in younger comrades who promise much for the future. Because of the connection he considers it prudent to make sure there are no suspicious circumstances. The commissar doesn’t understand why a young comrade of Lenskaya’s prospects and ability would kill herself. He wonders whether there might be more to it.’
Korolev didn’t for a moment believe that Ezhov’s interest in the pretty girl was that of a fatherly older Bolshevik for a young protegee, but he wasn’t about to disagree with Rodinov’s version of the story. After all, he still had a working brain and a strong instinct for self-preservation. As for the girl, he’d keep an open mind.
‘It will take me some time to get there by train,’ he said.
‘There’s a plane leaving for Odessa from the Central Airport in two hours and twenty-five minutes. You’ve just got time to go home and pick up some clothes. Todorov will take you. Someone will meet you at the airport with the information we’ve pulled together on this matter – you can read it on the way.’
Korolev had never been in a plane before and had never expected to be in one either. The prospect took him aback for a moment. The colonel seemed to interpret this as concern about the nature of his mission.
‘Look, Korolev. In this case, it’s important we act carefully and establish the truth. We could use the local Militia people, but we want to have direct control of this and someone we know working on it. We could send in the local Chekists, but our people can be too enthusiastic. Certainly, if it’s murder, we might think again – but for the moment it’s your case.’
‘A few things, then,’ Korolev said, pulling himself together. ‘A pathologist should examine her immediately.’
‘No one will examine her until you’re there.’
‘But, Colonel-’ Korolev began, before Rodinov interrupted him.
‘You are Comrade Ezhov’s eyes and ears. You are to be present at every stage of this investigation.’
‘But bodies deteriorate, and there are tests that must be done as soon as possible to determine time and means of death.’