Suchok asked, “Director, how about you, do you have any suggestions?”
Kulik stood a while in thought. “Hmm … We have to find a way to tame the wild beast. Nothing else will work.”
“And how does one go about taming a beast gone wild beyond control?” Sergei screwed up his mouth ironically. “Maybe we should prepare a feast?”
“A feast!” Kulik repeated. “That’s it, Sergei! What a brilliant idea! We’ll prepare a feast, and maybe that will distract them. Now quickly, we don’t have a moment to lose. Let’s add up what we’ve got. I have two liters of vodka stashed in the bottom of my dresser drawer, and if I’m not mistaken, there are a couple of bottles of wine in the kitchen cabinet.”
Sergei scowled. “And I hope they’re all tainted with arsenic.”
Kulik narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think we’re looking to find ourselves before a firing squad. We won’t be of any use to anybody that way.”
Sergei threw up his hands. “Maybe you’re right. This plan of yours, crazy as it sounds, just might work. I have at least ten eggs and some cheese in the cold cellar. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“And I’ve got a tub of lard,” offered Suchok, “and half a loaf of bread.”
Paraska appeared in the doorway. At first she looked around in utter confusion, then realizing what the men were up to, she was quick to contribute. “I’ve got some boiled kasha and a pot of beans. With everything combined, that should be enough to fill the table.” She turned to leave, cursing under her breath. “May those bastards be stricken with cholera and die. May they all rot in hell.”
Several minutes passed. Paraska was the first to return with a basket under her arm, followed almost immediately by Hrisko and then Sergei. When all the provisions were arranged neatly on the table and the tile stove filled and lit, Kulik headed to the grade one classroom. The lieutenant was sitting behind the teacher’s desk flipping through some papers. Kulik made an effort to strike up a conversation. “I was just outside,” he started, “and it’s freezing out there. I swear it must be at least minus thirty degrees celsius.”
“Minus thirty degrees, is that all?” Without looking up, the lieutenant gave a prolonged laugh. “For two years I was stationed in Arkhangelsk, near the White Sea, and believe me, I know the true meaning of winter! This is like springtime. Hah! Hah! Hah!”
“Is that where these people are being taken? To Arkhangelsk?” Kulik turned white and numb at hearing his own words.
The lieutenant looked up, frowning. “I strongly advise you not to interfere in matters that don’t concern you. Too many questions will only lead to a bad end. Understand?”
Returning to his papers, the lieutenant jotted something down in his ledger book. Noticing Kulik still standing near the desk, he snapped, “Comrade Kulik, do you want something? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Kulik tried to keep his anger out of his voice. “I was simply commenting on the weather. It’s quite nasty out there today. As a matter of fact, I wanted to offer you and your men food and drink before you take to the road. Paraska, our school matron, has taken it upon herself to prepare a feast.”
The lieutenant raised his head and his eyes lit up. He struck the desk with his fist. “A feast, you say? Now that’s what I want to hear!” Rising from his seat, he took Kulik’s hand and shook it vigorously. “You’re very thoughtful, comrade.”
The NKVD men hurried into the kitchen. The table held bowls of borscht with sour cream, and trays filled with scrambled eggs, chunks of backfat, bread, and boiled beef. Kulik poured the vodka.
“Pretty girls and vodka, what more can a man ask for?” The lieutenant settled in one of the chairs and eyed Paraska, who stood quietly by the door. Smacking his lips, he downed his first glass. When he was drinking his third, he called out, “Come here, Paraska. Come over to me, don’t be shy.”
Stumbling to his feet, he reached out and grabbed hold of her skirt.
Paraska let out a little shriek and jumped back.
“You stupid girl, what are you so scared of? Do you think NKVD men don’t know how to treat a woman? Come here, let me show you.”
All the color drained from Paraska’s face and her heart beat wildly. She couldn’t have found the lieutenant more repulsive.
“Uh, Lieutenant.” Kulik rushed to break things up, not really knowing what to do or say. “You must be patient with Paraska. She’s a bit on the timid side.”
Kuzikov leapt up, swinging a bottle in the air. The drink had gone completely to his head. “Those goddamn capitalist pigs! They don’t give a damn about women or women’s rights. Here in our socialist motherland a woman is equal to a man and she walks with him arm in arm. Why, just look at our construction industry, some of our best bricklayers are women! And it’s the women not the men who are building our cities, making our factories prosper. Where in the world will you find anything like that?”
Kuzikov belched several times, then started in on female emancipation, then went on about equality of the sexes, until at last he lost himself completely.
“Hey, Paraska!” The lieutenant poured more drinks. “Come over here and join me. I’ve drunk too much. Damn the vodka!”
Kulik kept his eyes on the lieutenant. He had to find a way to get Paraska out of there before it was too late. But how? Finally, all he could come up with was, “Paraska, we’re out of water. Would you be so kind as to go to the well and bring us a fresh pitcher?”
Exchanging glances with Kulik, Paraska took to her heels and fled out the door.
The lieutenant was now very drunk and his speech was slurred. He patted Kulik on the back. “You’re a wonderful host, Comrade Director. Obviously you’re from the working class.”
“Yes, I’m the son of poor peasants.”
“Excellent! Excellent! I believe I forgot to formally introduce myself. My name is Sobakin. Simon Stepanovich Sobakin. Yes, I agree, Sobakin is a most unfortunate name. It’s downright degrading. My great-great-grandfather passed it down to me and there’s not much I can do about it. Some bourgeois bastard back then decided my great-great-grandfather was no better than a dog, so he called him Sobakin. Yes, Sobakin comes from the word sobaka, which, of course, as we all know, means dog. And what does a dog do? He barks and slobbers and licks your feet, and to the bourgeoisie that’s what we are, just a pack of dogs. What do you think about that?” Sinking back in his seat, he mumbled, “Yes, Sobakin’s my name. Sobakin it was and Sobakin it remains. Even today, in this great time of revolution, we’re all still living testimony of our oppressive past.”
“Here, here!” The NKVD men raised their glasses in a toast.
“What are you men up to over there?” The lieutenant poured himself another drink. He looked severely at them. “Do you think I look like a dog? That I’m a son-of-a-bitch? Hah, may you all burn in hell!”
Grabbing hold of a wine bottle, he looked to the door and shouted, “Hey, Paraska, why aren’t you back yet? I’m waiting for you!”
Leyzarov sprang from his seat as if suddenly sober. He raised his glass. “Paraska! Let’s give a toast to Paraska, a true woman of our times! She has five children, all still very young. One day they will grow up and become loyal and dedicated proletarians. We need more women like Paraska to guarantee our future generations! Three cheers for Paraska!”
Sobakin looked around. “Paraska, Paraska, where are you?” Then to the men, “She’s quite a woman, I agree. Still young enough and not bad-looking either. Five children, you say? Another toast to Paraska!”