Beyond the wall and his song Boris could hear Vasily and the Oriental girl Lia grunting, rolling, laughing, bouncing. They murder and then they have sex. They have no routine, Boris thought. He hated them, envied them, wanted them to be quiet, wanted the song in his brain to cease so he could sleep. If the song would go away, if Vasily and the girl would stop their games, Boris could sleep and then he could awaken refreshed, ready to make a plan.
“Not with that. I don’t like that,” the girl’s voice came faintly through the wall. She sounded playful, unafraid.
“You’ll like it,” said Vasily. “Believe me.”
“You’re sure?” she said.
“I’m always sure,” said Vasily.
Boris looked across the room into the darkness, where one of the young men in the group slept or pretended to sleep. He considered getting up, going to the window. He could not get through the door.
Boris had not seen Peotor Kotsis since they returned from the horror at Klin. He had simply said that he would be gone for a while and disappeared. Boris wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse with Kotsis around. As insane as he seemed to be, Vasily was even more mad.
Just before he turned off the lights, the young man watching Boris had moved his own bed to block the door, but there was a window. If he could only think. No, not the window. The wooden floor creaked with each step night or day, and the window had not been opened since they had arrived. Perhaps it couldn’t open? Even if it could, it would make noise. But … the girl beyond the wall laughed. She kills and laughs.
Boris began to sit up. He was shaking, damp with sweat though the night was cool.
“No,” came a voice through the darkness.
“I need to-” Boris said.
“No,” came the voice again.
“But I can’t-” Boris said with a sigh.
The young man guarding him didn’t even bother to answer. Boris lay back to the sound of passion beyond the wall and the birch tree song inside him.
There were four dogs and two guards at the Lentaka Shoe Factory. The dogs roamed the inside of the factory throughout the night, during which they were given no food. In the morning, before the first workers arrived, the dogs were rounded up by the guards, fed, and taken away to a massive kennel to join hundreds of other animals from hundreds of factories, stores, warehouses, concert halls, and museums.
Rostnikov expected the dogs. He also expected the guards. It would have been no problem to incapacitate the animals and the guards, but Rostnikov preferred, if at all possible, to give no indication of their visit. If Lukov, the manager of the factory, was telling the truth, a break-in might well alert those who were involved in the corruption, and once alerted, they might stop Rostnikov before he could act.
The plan was simple. Rostnikov had obtained upon requisition with the signature of Colonel Snitkonoy the car, a collapsible ladder, and a compact and portable battery-operated copying machine, a large, square box he handled with great care. He had also prepared a small box of tools. He had wrapped each tool individually in cloth to keep them from making noise. He had placed all these things gently in the trunk of the car before he had asked Zelach to drive him. In his pocket Rostnikov carried a rough map he had drawn showing the location of Lukov’s office and that of Raya Corspoyva. He had given copies of the map to both Karpo and Tkach to study after they had parked down the street from the Lentaka Shoe Factory.
They had watched the factory for two hours and discovered that the guards had a simple, slovenly routine. Every half hour they would walk out the front door together and go in opposite directions, circling the entire factory and meeting again in front. The circuit took a little over eleven minutes. That would give Rostnikov, Karpo, and Tkach twenty minutes to get into the factory and back to the car.
The moment the guards made their fourth circuit, Karpo had, with lights out, driven quickly down a road to the right of the factory. The fence that surrounded the factory was no problem. It had not been designed as a serious deterrent but as a warning. There wasn’t even barbed wire across the top of the fence, but that did not surprise the policemen. Barbed wire, which was really of little value in keeping out a determined burglar, sent a message that something of value was beyond the fence.
Within seconds of their arrival, Karpo had the ladder out of the trunk and over the fence. The ladder, an ingenious French device that could be set in various patterns, was locked to straddle the fence. Sasha Tkach, carrying the toolbox that Rostnikov had handed him, hurried over the ladder, followed by Karpo, who carried the large metal box with a handle. Rostnikov, for whom the task would be monumental even if he were not carrying a copying machine, albeit a very compact battery-operated one, came last. Rostnikov did not even attempt to use his left leg. He pulled himself up by one powerful arm, using his right leg as a guiding rudder. When they were all within the grounds of the factory, Rostnikov put down the machine and pulled the ladder over, collapsing it into a compact square, which he handed to Karpo.
When they reached the outer wall of the factory, Rostnikov checked his watch. Four of their twenty minutes were gone. Leading the way, Rostnikov came to the window he knew to be Lukov’s. It was, as he expected, locked. With Tkach watching in one direction and Karpo in the other, Rostnikov took his toolbox from Tkach, removed the proper instruments, and began quickly, efficiently to remove the pane of glass from the window. It took him but fifteen seconds. Karpo reached in and opened the latch. Then he slid the window up slowly, cautiously, almost noiselessly, but not noiselessly enough. Inside, beyond the door to Lukov’s office, they could hear the dogs stirring, sensing something but not yet sure of it. Karpo unsnapped the ladder, quickly formed it, and put it through the open window.
Tkach scrambled up the ladder and through the window. Karpo handed him the two boxes and the machine and climbed through after him. Outside, Rostnikov closed the window and immediately began to replace the window-pane, while Karpo, using a small flashlight, moved to the files in the corner and, using a thin, flat piece of metal, opened the lock and began to search for the name Rostnikov had given him.
Beyond Lukov’s office the dogs were now alert. In the dim night-lights of the factory, the policemen could see the animals sniffing the air and could hear their low growls. Almost seven minutes had passed.
Sasha knelt at the door with the large box on the floor next to him. Something moved in the box. Something inside let out a low, angry squeal.
The quick-drying putty he had used was already hardening when Rostnikov began to rub it with dark polish to make it match the other panes.
As he did so, the dogs went wild and headed for Lukov’s office. Sasha opened the door, flipped open the large box, and instantly closed the door as Karpo turned off his flashlight and Rostnikov pulled himself through the window over the ladder. As the badger that Sasha had released scrambled across the factory floor and leaped upon a stack of synthetic leather, Rostnikov pulled the ladder in and closed the window.
Beyond the door the dogs barked. The badger hissed and barked back. One of the dogs in a frenzy crashed into a sewing machine, sending it clattering on the concrete floor. Peeking over the window in Lukov’s door, Rostnikov saw the two guards rush in. One guard was short, old. The other massive, young, and carrying a gun.
Their voices carried through the door but not their words. The old man shouted at the dogs. The young man shouted at the old man and moved past him, seeing the badger on the pile of false leather.