“I see that now. But at the time…”
“I can imagine. Dubinkin said you didn’t know Weiss had a copy of the report?”
“I knew he had something.”
“Well, whatever you said to Weiss, he felt obliged to pass the report on to Boldyrev.”
“I don’t even know who this Boldyrev is.”
“Comrade Boldyrev is the newly appointed People’s Commissar for Health. Haven’t you read the papers over the last few days?”
Rodinov smiled at his own joke, and opened a metal cigarette case. One that Korolev had seen before somewhere. It had a propeller engraved on its cover.
“Well, you know now-and when Weiss told him about the report, Boldyrev saw an opportunity to prove himself worthy of promotion to People’s Commissar. So he showed it to Molotov. And Molotov showed it to Comrade Stalin. And Comrade Stalin decreed that Zaitsev should be arrested. And he has been.”
Rodinov lit a cigarette and pushed the box over to Korolev. “It was Dr. Shtange who gave Weiss his copy of the report, of course. He knew the contents were damning but he felt loyalty to an outdated academic convention that required him to show it to Azarov before he gave it to the person who’d commissioned it-or in this case, his successor. But just in case things went badly, he thought he’d leave a copy of the report with Weiss for safe keeping.”
Korolev nodded as though he understood. But he didn’t.
“Shtange must have told Azarov there was another copy in existence,” the colonel continued. “As a kind of insurance in case Azarov tried anything, I suppose. And Azarov must have told Zaitsev about it-that’s how Zaitsev knew there were at least two copies for you to look for.”
Korolev took a cigarette, listening to the colonel but sneaking another quick look at the cigarette box. He’d seen it only days before, he was sure-and it hadn’t been in this room.
“Zaitsev didn’t know who had the second copy-no one did-and, of course, you inadvertently removed Azarov’s copy before he could place his hands on that one. So all Zaitsev knew about the report was what he’d been told by Azarov on the phone-and that was enough to frighten him, but not too much. Until, that is, Azarov showed up with a bullet in his head and his copy wasn’t to be found. Then he began to become concerned. And he became very concerned when Shtange was murdered and his copy couldn’t be found either. Well, you can only imagine-I shouldn’t be surprised if he thought I was behind the whole thing.”
Korolev was tired enough that if he’d been a horse he’d have been put down-but the cigarette case was bothering him. He should remember where he’d seen it.
“So that’s why Zaitsev stripped all the paperwork and books from the apartment. To try to find the report before anyone else got their hands on it.”
“Just in case, however, he shut down the institute. He reasoned that without the institute there’d be next to no evidence to back up the allegations contained in the report. And he was right. Comrade Ezhov hasn’t fully settled in as Chief of State Security yet and has enough on his plate, believe me, without going after someone like Zaitsev. So Zaitsev must have felt he was safe-until, of course, someone showed the report to Comrade Stalin himself. Which Comrade Molotov did yesterday evening.”
Korolev had never seen the colonel so-well-ebullient.
“And it’s all thanks to you.”
“I only did my duty,” Korolev said.
“Well, not quite.” The colonel looked stern for a moment, but the effort seemed too much for him. He shook his head as if Korolev had done something that had amused him.
“Don’t worry, Korolev, I’ll overlook what happened out in Lefortovo. As far as I’m concerned you were looking for evidence of Colonel Zaitsev’s crimes and that’s that. The fact you may have had some unorthodox assistance and seem to have made off with two children is-well-neither here nor there, as far as I’m concerned.”
Korolev didn’t know what to say.
“Yes.” The colonel nodded. “That’s the way to leave things-as they are. Your son, I hope, is safe?”
“I hope so,” Korolev said, trying to maintain a somber expression while relief was singing in his veins. “I’ll find out soon.”
“And so, you’ll be pleased to hear, is your wife. Your ex-wife rather. But a word of advice for her-she should leave Zagorsk. I can only intervene once. She might be better off moving to the new territories we’re opening up in Siberia-they need good engineers there, and a fresh start will do her no harm.”
Korolev thought about that-about Yuri going even farther away. And he felt a small part of his pleasure in the boy’s safety diminish.
“I’ll tell her.”
“Good.” Rodinov considered him for a moment. “Which brings us to the murders, I suppose. Professor Azarov?”
Korolev thought about Goldstein and his bravery at the institute. If he’d killed the professor hadn’t he been administering a higher form of justice? In any normal society, the professor would have been a criminal-at least in Korolev’s opinion. But then hadn’t Goldstein’s action caused this whole chain of events? He needed to think about it.
“We’ll have to carry on our investigations,” he said. “We have a few leads. It wasn’t Shtange, that’s for sure. I can only think some of the professor’s techniques were used on Priudski to make him give that evidence.”
Rodinov considered this for a moment, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Shtange’s dead and his wife leaves for France this afternoon with their children. Shtange will do. That’s the end of it, Korolev.”
Korolev was about to object and then stopped himself. Yes, Dr. Shtange would do. If his wife ever found out, she’d know the truth and she’d know it in Paris or wherever she ended up. Korolev lived in Moscow and if the colonel said, in as many words, that Shtange had killed the professor-then who was he to second-guess the newly appointed head of the Twelfth Department?
“Now what about Shtange’s death?” the colonel continued.
“Madame Azarova,” Korolev said. “Although, I’m not sure she was quite right in the head at the time.”
And perhaps it was the mention of Shtange’s death that finally jolted his exhausted brain to remember who that damned cigarette case belonged to. Perhaps the realization showed on his face, because the colonel slid it across the table to him once again.
“You recognize it now? I saw you looking at it. Did you see it when you went to visit Shtange at the institute?”
“Yes,” Korolev said, remembering Shtange offering him a cigarette from the case and how the propeller had caught his attention.
“The dedication is curious. Open it up.”
Korolev picked up the case and looked inside.
“Read it aloud.”
“With the fondest regards and enormous gratitude for your efforts,” Korolev read. “G.N. Kaminsky.”
“Dubinkin found it in Zaitsev’s office. He thought I might like it as a souvenir. Are you wondering why?”
Korolev was confused-as far as he was aware, Kaminsky was the current People’s Commissar for Health. It had confused him earlier when Rodinov had been talking about this fellow Boldyrev having taken over the job.
“I’ll tell you, Korolev. On Monday evening, not six hours after our Professor Azarov went to meet his maker, Grigory Kaminsky made a speech to the Central Committee. In that speech he denounced the NKVD for making false arrests. By the time he was halfway through it, half his audience had left the room. By the time he’d finished it, our people were waiting for him. That’s how come the position of People’s Commissar of Health became vacant.”
“I see.”
“I don’t know if you do-you see, Shtange’s report was intended for Kaminsky. I don’t know if Kaminsky ever received his copy, but he certainly made veiled references to the institute in his speech. That’s why Zaitsev felt relatively comfortable about it. He knew Kaminsky was discredited and he knew Shtange, because of the sentiments in this cigarette case, could be discredited as well. But the truth will out, Korolev. The truth will out.”