‘He told me about the IRT, about all of you. He was terrified that you had been arrested. He hunted the streets for the papers to check for your names on the lists. He felt that if he made contact with you it would endanger you. They arrested him on charges of plotting counter-Revolution, but he must have had his first fit almost as soon as they took him in, because he couldn’t remember anything about the prison at all. So presumably they dropped the case. Once he went to watch you – to spy on the building from some doorway or other. He came back so sad. I think he was hoping to see someone – perhaps someone who wasn’t there?’
‘Sonya.’ My voice came out strangely. ‘He was hoping to see Sonya. But she died of typhus the week after he was arrested.’
‘Sonya. Yes, he did mention that name when he was ill.’
‘But where is he now, Sister? Our… our informer said he didn’t know.’
‘He was telling the truth. We don’t know.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know where he is. At the end of March I had to make a trip out to the countryside to try to collect food for my patients. We are starving here, I’ve already said. What food I grew last summer ran out and we receive only third-class rations. I left my patients here in Slavkin’s charge; he was not entirely well, I knew, but still – he was the only person I could trust.
‘I came back… Oh, forgive me. I came back and that Red Army filth had wreaked havoc. They claimed there was trouble and they had to come in to sort it out. I’m willing to bet that any trouble before they arrived was nothing to what they left behind. And Slavkin had gone. He and his machine – disappeared.’
‘And… and you don’t know where he went?’ I said stupidly.
Without a word, Sister Serafima led us out of the cell and through a dank corridor. At the end was a heavy door with two bolts. ‘Be very calm and quiet,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘These patients are anxious about people they don’t know.’
The sign on the door read ‘Laboratory No. 37’.
‘Good morning,’ said Serafima politely as she swung open the door. ‘I hope we are not disturbing you.’
We stepped inside another long, dark hut. There were many fewer people in here – perhaps a couple of dozen – each sitting on their own, bare pallet. At first the greater order and space seemed to contrast favourably with Lab 36. Then I realised that they were manacled. Many lay motionless, as if barely alive. One man was curled up in the corner, groaning. One, who looked young and strong, was straining at the end of his chain, tugging on it and grunting.
‘Grisha, calm yourself. These patients are chained because they have consistently harmed themselves and others. It is unpleasant to see, but it is the only possible course of action.’ Sister Serafima shrugged. ‘If she is able to talk, one of the patients told me something about Slavkin’s disappearance that perhaps would interest you.’
She led us up to a powerfully built young woman who was sitting on her pallet and gazing blankly out of the window. Very gently, she took the woman’s hand in hers and spoke to her almost in a whisper. ‘Anna, my dear, don’t be afraid.’ The woman looked at her blankly. ‘These are good people, friends of our dear Nikita Gavrilovich. They want to hear about the day he went away. When I was not here. You remember, don’t you, Anna? Be brave and tell.’
Anna’s eyes swivelled and she caught sight of us. She began to whimper and sidle backwards on her bed. Her face had been horribly burnt and was covered in red scar tissue. I could hardly bear her expression of terror. ‘Hush,’ murmured Sister Serafima. ‘Calm yourself.’ And over her shoulder, to us, ‘It’s best not to look at her – look away.’
Pasha and I turned away and gazed down the hut. After a moment a croaky whisper emerged. ‘Are they truly his friends?’
‘Yes. They are searching for him. They love him.’
‘I remember what happened,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I’ll tell them, shall I?’
And so the story of Nikita’s last journey was told, in Anna’s poor, painful voice, while the inmates gazed dully at the ceiling and Grisha grunted and pulled at his chains.
‘It was the day that evil men came in and made misery for us. They said they were coming to help us but then they laughed and hit us and they frightened everyone and they took our food. They took my cloak and laughed and they beat Misha and they—’
‘Shh – you needn’t remember all of that.’
‘Nikita tried to stop the bad men. He stood in front of them and he spoke a long time to them, lots of words, all about his machine and the world and everything. He thought they were friends, but they weren’t friends. They were laughing at him and one of them hit him and he fell over. And then they made fun of him and pushed him and he banged against the wall, and they made him walk about and prodded him with their bayonets. And they said show us this machine then and he took them outside and I heard them say get in and he lay down in it and they did more laughing. And then…’ She sat up straight and turned towards us, and very cautiously I looked back at her, keeping my head bowed in case I frightened her again. ‘Then there was a very loud noise, it hurt my ears so much’ – she covered her ears to show us – ‘and shouting. And we didn’t see our Nikita again.’
‘What did the noise sound like?’
‘It – it sounded like the air splitting in two, crack! – and crack in my ears – like… like thunder right here in the room, like a gun…’
There was a pause.
‘And then you talked to the bad men, didn’t you, Anna?’ prompted Serafima.
‘Yes, and they said straight out to me, they said, “He’s gone away in his machine.” That’s the words they said. They didn’t say anything else, because they didn’t know about it like we do, do they, Sister? Nikita didn’t tell them everything that he told us.’
‘No, that’s right, he didn’t tell them what he told us.’
‘They didn’t say that he was coming back, because only we know about that. But they said he had gone away and that was just what Nikita told us they would say.’ For the first time she looked at me full in the face with her big blue child’s eyes, wide and clear and triumphant. ‘He’s gone away in his machine, they said so, in those words. And he told us, if that happens, it means we’ve won. So we’ve won, haven’t we, Sister Serafima? We’ve won the future, and they don’t even know it.’
‘Yes,’ said Sister Serafima, and her voice was a little hoarse, ‘I believe we’ve won. Somewhere in the future, we’ve won.’
21
‘Anna.’ I leant forward. ‘Thank you.’ Without thinking I reached my hand out towards hers.
‘No!’
Serafima tugged hard on Anna’s chain. She screeched and fell back.
‘Move away, please – go to the door.’ Serafima hurried us out, tight-lipped. ‘You don’t understand. They can’t help it.’
As we came out into the corridor men’s voices could be heard in Lab 36. Serafima stopped. ‘That’s the Red Guard. I think it best if you leave by this door. Take the path down to the river and wait for me there – I will come as soon as I can…’
She bundled us through a small door and we found ourselves outside again, blinded by the sun.
‘Oh, Pasha, I don’t know if I can—’
‘Come,’ muttered Pasha, taking my arm. ‘Little by little.’