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The boy sat frozen, his eyes fixed on the box, not knowing what to do with it. He thought maybe his punishment was inside — a rod or a leather strap. He was trembling all over.

When the headmaster lifted the lid, Ohrimko’s eyes lit up in astonishment and disbelief. Inside there were all kinds of things he had never seen before. It was all too good to be true, he couldn’t believe his eyes! First he pulled out a bright red box engine with six driving wheels, then a car, then another and another, then a handful of rails, some curved, some straight, all with small teeth at the ends.

“See these teeth at the end of the rails?” Kulik said. “When you attach them to each other, you can form a track. You can make it any shape you like. Don’t be shy. Come and help me.”

The headmaster and Ohrimko worked together quietly to assemble the parts, and before long a track in the shape of an ellipse filled the entire desk. Kulik placed the locomotive on the rails and then he and Ohrimko hooked up the five additional cars. From the box Kulik brought out four small batteries, tucked them into an opening on the side of the locomotive, and pressed a button. Almost instantly the engine took off, pulling all five cars behind it. The boy watched in excited fascination. Never had he seen anything so remarkable— a toy moving by itself, not pushed by anyone. He watched the train go round and round for the longest time, hypnotized by it.

Kulik was delighted by the boy’s reaction. He thought to himself, An impoverished child far from civilized society — with this small toy, the whole world has opened up for him.

Kulik turned to Ohrimko’s father. “Do you have a big enough table at home for this train?”

“Oh, yes, yes.” Suchok fawned, squinting and bowing. He was completely thrown off guard by what had just happened and wondered how it was that his son came to be so handsomely rewarded, and for being a troublemaker! It didn’t make any sense to him. Nonetheless, he was overwhelmed by the headmaster’s generosity, and felt deeply honored at the special attention accorded his son. “The table’s very big and strong. Yes, yes, very big. I built it myself just last spring from some oak planks.”

“Wonderful.” Kulik was delighted. Then turning to the boy, “Son, this train is for you because you’ve earned it. Your behavior in school this last week has been outstanding and your schoolwork has improved even beyond my expectation. If you have trouble putting it together once you get home, I’ll gladly come by and help you. Now go on, run along.”

At that moment Ohrimko’s mother, who until now had sat quietly, suddenly clasped her hands. She shouted, “Good Lord! For something like this to happen to our family!” Then shaking her head, “No, no, we absolutely cannot accept such a fine gift. A toy like this is not for the likes of poor, ignorant moujiks like us. No, Ohrimko cannot accept it.”

Ignoring his mother, Ohrimko quickly and eagerly took apart the train set and put the pieces carefully back into the box. He put it under his arm, thanked the headmaster, bade him a good morning and scooted out the door. His mother and father followed close behind.

Kulik watched the family cross the yard. Ohrimko’s father was looking proudly at his son and telling him, “It’s truly a wonderful gift, son. You’re very lucky. Work hard in school and maybe one day you’ll learn how a real train works. Maybe one day you’ll even become an engineer. You just might be the first in the Suchok family to make something of himself.”

Kulik believed that the problems with Ohrimko had been solved. But he knew that the issue at play was not what it appeared to be on the surface. It was not about an unruly child, but about a system of provocation, manipulation, and intimidation. It would break whomever it chose, and by whatever means. He was just thankful that this day had started as well as it had.

CHAPTER 17

Rather unexpectedly, an NKVD man moved into the small wooden house next to the Bohdanovich home. He was of average build and height, in his mid-forties, with thick graying sideburns. He left his house every morning at precisely the same time, carrying a bulging satchel, and hurried down the road toward the city center.

Marusia watched him from her living room window. His presence made her suspicious and resentful. Peaceful Luninetska Street, rarely disturbed by the sound of a motor car or even a horse-drawn cart, now for the first time had a stranger in its midst, and not just an ordinary stranger, but an NKVD man at that. Even Marusia’s parents noticed his comings and goings. Efrosinia went to the trouble of learning his name: Simon Stepanovich Sobakin.

One morning as Simon Stepanovich came out of his house and walked down the narrow walkway to the street, he glanced over a low hedge at the Bohdanovich house, only a few meters away. The movement of a curtain caught his attention. Someone was watching him, spying on him. He crossed over into his neighbor’s yard, peered in the window and became completely enthralled. He saw a girl there, very pretty, not much over twenty, her face fresh and full of life, framed by a pile of lovely brown hair. The two gazed at each other for a few seconds. Then, extremely embarrassed, the girl fled. Sobakin pressed his face against the glass and tapped on the window several times, trying to get her to come back. He was smiling, delighted by this unexpected encounter, and with someone so lovely, so charming!

Marusia was mortified, angry with herself for having spied on him in the first place. To make matters worse, she was certain it would be only a matter of time before he appeared at her door and introduced himself to her. And sure enough, the following Sunday, shortly before noon, he came to call. But he did not come alone; he arrived in the company of a man, younger than he by a good fifteen years, and not a stranger to the Bohdanovich household.

Old Valentyn was the first to greet the visitors. “Why, Nikolai Kopitkin!” He extended his hand joyfully. “The esteemed Pinsk poet. What a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in! You haven’t forgotten us after all!”

Nikolai shook hands with the old man, and bowed. “Good day to you, citizen. How’s the family? In good health, I’m sure. In any case, I’ve come by today with a friend who also happens to be a neighbor of yours. May I introduce Lieutenant Simon Stepanovich Sobakin.”

“Ah, our new neighbor, of course!” Valentyn turned to the lieutenant. “I’ve heard so much about you. Finally we meet. It’s an honor to have a government dignitary in my humble abode. Truly an honor.”

“Please, no need for ceremony.” Sobakin, distracted, said impatiently. “Just treat me as you would anyone else.”

Valentyn offered the men refreshment, and the three sat and chatted for several minutes about the weather. Hearing their voices, Efrosinia hurried in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. When she saw Sobakin, she was stunned and baffled. How did a prominent NKVD man, a lieutenant at that, come to be in her living room? And why was he laughing and drinking, with, of all people, her husband? A man of such high standing never casually and openly socialized with his neighbors like that. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she wondered why he was here. Was he looking for something or maybe someone? Was he on a mission of some sort? She studied his features closely: his high rounded cheekbones, his slanted blue eyes … She thought she detected a vague craftiness in his expression. Sobakin looked at her as if he had read her thoughts. “So, Mamasha, you think you recognize me, is that it? Have you seen me some place before?”

Efrosinia answered slowly, “You look familiar to me. Yes, I’m sure I’ve seen you before, but I can’t quite recall where. Maybe at the marketplace or the town hall. Your eyes are small, and they have a strange shine to them, a shine, if I may say so, that’s almost diabolical.”