Tata dried her eyes and nodded quickly. “All right. I understand.”
Klim gave Tata five Deutsche marks and a piece of paper with Seibert’s address written on it. “Show this to no one. This is the address of our coconspirators’ apartment. You can always go to them if you need help. Are you ready for the fight?”
“Always prepared!” said Tata, giving the Pioneer salute.
It is better this way, thought Klim. If he had a heart attack, at least the girls would be able to find their way to Nina.
A brief item had appeared in the Berliner Tageblatt stating that the timber being used to build German railway sleepers was produced in Soviet labor camps. Not long after this, a cable from Seibert had arrived in Moscow: “Stop stalling on counter-propaganda. Questions being asked about the provenance of Russian timber. Unforeseen consequences likely.”
Gritting his teeth, Drachenblut had allocated an additional budget of ten thousand dollars and ordered Oscar Reich to fly out to Germany immediately.
Oscar had hoped to get to Berlin before nightfall, but on arrival in Konigsberg, Friedrich announced that his plane had developed engine noise, so they would be taken on by a German plane that was flying out the next morning.
Klim and the two girls set off for the airport hotel while Oscar and Yefim went to the Soviet Consulate.
All this time, Oscar’s thoughts had been dwelling constantly on Nina. How could some commoner have managed to trick him into believing she was a baroness? He should have handed her over to the OGPU straight away instead of putting himself at risk, creating a jealous scene. If Nina had been just a little stronger, she could have smashed his skull with that starter handle.
It was clear from Elkin’s testimony that Nina Kupina was in Germany. What if she decided to go to the press and tell the newspapers about the private life of the famous Mr. Reich? It was essential he found Nina and got rid of her!
But it was no easy task to locate a young lady who had arrived in Germany on a false passport. In Moscow, all you had to do was go into some establishment and show your OGPU credentials, and immediately, you would find out everything you needed to know. But in Berlin, it was difficult even getting a list of guests from a hotel. And how many such hotels were there in this city with its population of millions?
The Soviet consul, a fussy, stout man with dark eyebrows, took Oscar and Yefim into an office with pale wooden walls.
“Take a look at the message that just came in,” he said.
He handed Oscar a diplomatic cable stating that on November 13, 1928, a dangerous criminal by the name of Klim Rogov—the husband and accomplice of Nina Kupina—had fled the USSR.
“But we were on the same plane with him!” cried Oscar and began to read the cable aloud: “Rogov is to be captured immediately and returned to the USSR. If it is impossible to take him alive, destroy him. His departure will demonstrate our utter defeat and constitute a serious blow to the reputation of the Soviet Union. Deploy all possible means to achieve this mission.”
“Our plane has broken down—otherwise, we could have ordered Friedrich to turn back,” muttered Yefim and turned to the consul. “We need to arrest Rogov immediately. How many free men do you have?”
The consul shook his head. “There’s no one I can call on.”
“There’ll be no end of trouble with the kids,” said Oscar, frowning. “Let’s get to Germany and seize him there. He’ll probably go straight to Kupina, so we can take the two of them together. Wire the envoy’s office in Berlin and have them send their men to the airport. Then we’ll take Kupina and Rogov to Hamburg and put them on a Soviet ship. They won’t get away from us after that.”
38. THE REICHSBANK
The plane circled the new airport of Tempelhof. Gazing out of the window, Klim saw a building stretching the length of the airfield and dozens of planes—some modern and some veteran fighter planes from the last war.
As it landed, the plane sped past aircraft hangars and towers with flags. When the plane’s engine had stopped, two servicemen in dark blue boiler suits wheeled up a sloping gangway.
Klim jumped down to the ground and took a deep breath of the cold air. Thank heaven they had arrived!
The freight handlers began to take the baggage out of the hold and load it onto trolleys.
“Goodbye!” Oscar waved to Klim and hurried toward the large glass doors of the airport building.
Yefim set off at a run, following him.
Klim took both girls by the hand. “How are you feeling?”
The girls were exhausted from the journey, but nonetheless, curiosity got the better of them. Tata stared wide-eyed at the technicians driving about the landing strip on motorized carts.
Klim went through passport control, and a customs officer checked his baggage.
“All in order, sir. Welcome to Berlin!”
Klim found a stand with a plan of the airport and located the taxi rank on the map.
“Here are some of my fellow Russians!” the exclamation came from a tall, fair-haired young man in a thick sweater and quilted pants who was bearing down on them. “Delighted to meet you. I’m Sergei. Can I take you anywhere? I have a taxi waiting just outside.” Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed Klim’s suitcases. “Come on. It’s just a step away. Are you from Moscow? I’m from Suzdal myself. My parents brought me to Berlin when I was just a little boy.”
Chatting and laughing, Sergei led them through to an empty passage between two hangars where a small yellow van stood waiting. It was emblazoned with a picture of a pike with staring eyes and the inscription “Fresh Fish” in Russian and German. Beside it stood a burly man with gold teeth, holding a tyre lever.
Klim looked around in alarm. This van was clearly not a taxi. Where had they been taken? Who were these people? Thieves?
Sergei, quite unperturbed, was securing Klim’s cases to the baggage rack.
“Take a seat, Mr. Rogov, please. Let’s go!”
And how on earth did this man know his name?
Klim picked up Kitty. “Tata, we’re going!”
But they had barely taken a step when Yefim came around the corner of one of the hangars, holding a revolver.
“Get into the car this minute!” he ordered quietly.
The two girls set up a terrified wail.
Sergei and Yefim sat Klim between them on the back seat. Tata was ordered to take Kitty and sit in the front next to the driver with the gold teeth.
“Where does Kupina live?” Sergei asked Klim.
Klim kept his head down and said nothing.
“Do you think we’re here to play games with you?” Sergei grabbed Klim by the shirtfront.
Klim pulled away, and a scuffle broke out. The children began to wail even louder. Then Yefim took a brass knuckleduster from his pocket and dealt Klim a blow to the back of the head, knocking him out.
Tata huddled in close to Kitty’s shoulder, which was shaking with sobs.
Who were their abductors? Tata thought. White Russian émigrés? Surely it had to be! Nobody else would be capable of such a vile act!
The van kept circling the streets aimlessly while the gangsters argued about whether they should head to some “envoy’s office” or drive to Hamburg.
Once, Tata plucked up the courage to look around. Uncle Klim was lying unconscious at the feet of their abductors. Good grief! Maybe he was dead already?
“How on earth will we find out Kupina’s address now?” Sergei asked Yefim angrily. “Who told you to knock him on the head?”
“You started it with your questions!”
“Quiet!” snapped the driver. “Make up your minds where we’re going.”