Chernobyl Murders (35 page)

“There’s no time to explain. It’s for Juli’s safety and my safety.

A diversion.” Lazlo hugged Aunt Magda. “You are a good woman.

You remind me of my mother.”

Juli put on her coat, kissed Aunt Magda, and clung to her until Lazlo said they had to go.

The Volga’s powerful engine idled like a predator. Nikolai sat behind the wheel, waiting for Pavel to tell him when it was time to go.

Pavel looked at his watch every few seconds.

“Why are you so nervous?” asked Nikolai.

“Major Komarov makes me nervous,” said Pavel. “He’s in charge of security at Chernobyl, yet he stays in Kiev.”

“He’s smart,” said Nikolai. “Only a fool would go there now.

Maybe he sent the homosexual agents to Chernobyl.”

Pavel turned and stared wide-eyed at Nikolai. “What do you mean by that?”

Nikolai shrugged. “When I met with Komarov, he seemed unusually upset about homosexuality and religion and ethnic groups in general.” Nikolai tapped his forehead. “You know what I mean?”

Pavel nodded. “When I met with him, he mentioned you weren’t married, if you know what I mean …”

Nikolai reached out to Pavel. “Why should I marry when I can hold my partner’s hand?”

Pavel shook Nikolai’s hand away. “This is no time for jokes!”

“Why not? It’s boring as hell sitting here.”

“It won’t be boring for long,” said Pavel. “If the Horvath brothers were involved in a plot with their cousin, and if Juli Popovics is involved …”

Nikolai interrupted. “Maybe the Gypsy Moth cousin will show up before nine o’clock.”

“That’s another thing,” said Pavel. “Komarov implies all kinds of things, as if he is purposely trying to upset us. He says perhaps Detective Horvath is the Gypsy Moth. He says things about plutonium and air samples. Everything is ambiguous except to be precise about our timing.”

“Why all this exactness with the time?” asked Nikolai.

“How the hell do I know? All I know is, Komarov said to pick Juli Popovics up exactly at nine and have her at KGB headquarters exactly at ten.”

“Relax, Pavel. We can do it.”

“It’s easy for you to be relaxed,” said Pavel. “You weren’t personally threatened. My wife, too. All of us back to Pripyat and even up on charges if we don’t do this right.”

“If Detective Horvath is dangerous and if Komarov wanted to guarantee Juli Popovics be brought in without a hitch, why didn’t he simply assign more men?”

“Finally you understand,” said Pavel.

“It’s a game,” said Nikolai. “We’re simply not used to Komarov’s methods.”

Pavel looked at his watch again, touched the bulge of the shiny new Makarov 9mm pistol in its shoulder holster. “All right, enough.

It’s time to go.”

Nikolai touched his own Makarov in its shoulder holster, put the Volga in gear, and drove slowly down the street to the house at the dead-end.

“I hope she doesn’t scream or fight,” said Pavel.

Nikolai laughed nervously. “Be brave. One woman against two men.”

“Don’t forget the old woman.”

When Pavel got out of the car and began walking through the arbor to the front door, he heard Nikolai call to him from the car.

“Pavel, look!”

“What?”

“Out in the field. I think I see Detective Horvath’s car!”

Pavel stepped back to look around the side of the house. “Holy Mother of God! There’s someone inside the car!”

For a second, Pavel acted like a man on a high wire, not knowing which direction to go. Finally he ran to the front of the house, trampling the flowers as he peered into the front window. He saw the old woman staring back at him. She was on the phone.

Nikolai had restarted the Volga’s engine and was gunning it.

“Hurry! She’s in the car with Horvath! I saw her!”

The front door opened as Pavel turned back to the Volga. The old woman shouted to him. “Wait! Stop!”

“What is it?” shouted Pavel.

“I have to tell you something!”

Pavel hesitated.

“Come on!” screamed Nikolai. “They’re driving away!”

Pavel screamed back to the old woman. “What do you want?”

Aunt Magda waved her hand in disgust. “I’m going back inside.

If you want to know what I have to say, I’ll be in here.”

“What if she’s not in the car?” said Pavel. “What if she’s in the house?”

“I saw her,” said Nikolai. “At least I think I did.”

Pavel ran to the house, banged the door open. “Where is Juli Popovics?”

Aunt Magda looked about. “Who?”

Pavel held up a clenched fist. “Your niece! Where is she?”

“I tried to tell you. You don’t have to worry because I’ve already called the militia. He took her away. A man named …”

Pavel ran out the door.

“Wait! Don’t you want to know his name?”

When Nikolai and Pavel drove into the field, a cloud of dust was all they could see. Back at the house, Aunt Magda stood at the front window, her hands folded and her lips moving rapidly as she prayed to herself.

The car bounced violently, and Juli held on tight. She turned in the seat to look out the rear window, but saw only dust churning behind them. When the bouncing lessened, she realized they had left the field and were now on a gravel road.

“I hope Aunt Magda is all right. Was calling the militia really part of your escape plan?”

“No. If she calls the militia, she won’t be in trouble.”

“What’s your plan for us?”

“I don’t have one yet.”

Juli looked out the rear window again and saw the black car pursuing them through the finer dust of the gravel road. “I see them!

What will we do?”

They slid sideways as Lazlo turned onto another gravel road heading west, the morning sun behind them. The sun kept its distance, but the black car was catching up.

“They’ve got a faster car!” shouted Lazlo. “If they stop us, I’ll go on foot across the field. You tell them I kidnapped you.”

“I can’t!”

“You have to, Juli! They’re going to catch us!”

“But you said there was danger!”

“There is! But if we can’t get away …”

“Maybe they’re simply following us.”

“They’re too close! In a moment they’re going to pass! I’ll let them. Stay down. When they get alongside, I’ll try to force them over. The ditch is deep here. If I can hang them up …”

Nikolai gripped the wheel with both hands, his fists pumping, a boxer holding off an opponent. Dust from the Zhiguli seeped into the Volga and danced on the dash. The Volga rocked back and forth, its powerful engine taking them closer and closer to their prey.

“We’re almost up to them!” shouted Nikolai. “Quit looking at your damned watch! The time won’t matter after what’s happened!”

“If we catch them soon, we can still make it back to Kiev on time!” shouted Pavel.

“What should we do with Detective Horvath?”

Pavel took out his pistol. “We’ll take him with us!”

Nikolai glanced at Pavel. “Don’t wave your gun around! I’ll try to run them off the road!”

Chunks of gravel from the Zhiguli banged against the metal and glass of the Volga as Nikolai drove closer.

“Shit!” shouted Nikolai.

“What?”

“We should have radioed in!”

“Look!” shouted Pavel. “You can pass now!”

Nikolai pressed the accelerator to the floor, and the Volga moved alongside the Zhiguli.

“I’ll force them off …”

Pavel raised his pistol and pointed it at the Zhiguli.

“No!” screamed Nikolai. “Wait!”

An explosion of glass slammed Pavel sideways onto Nikolai’s lap. Nikolai braked, and as the Volga skidded to a stop, he looked down at his friend Pavel. Pavel’s eyes were open. Pavel was smiling despite blood gushing from his temple.

When the car stopped, Nikolai let go of the wheel and held Pavel’s head in his arms. The gush of blood wet Nikolai’s trousers.

“Pavel!”

Pavel did not react. After a few moments, the blood stopped gushing, but Pavel still smiled up at his friend.

“Pavel!”

Finally, recognizing the grin of death, Nikolai hugged his friend to his chest and wept.

After firing the shot, Lazlo drove on for a few seconds, but then slammed on the brakes and turned their car around. Juli saw the grief on Lazlo’s face. When they drove up, she saw the driver of the Volga holding the other man.

Lazlo picked up his gun from the seat and opened the door.

“Stay here.”

Juli stayed low, watching as Lazlo approached the Volga carefully, his pistol aimed at the driver. After Lazlo opened the door and stared inside for a few moments, he lowered his pistol and bent over.

Obviously the driver was not a fighter. Lazlo placed his hand on the driver’s shoulder and spoke to him. The driver handed two pistols out of the car butt first, and Lazlo put them into the pockets of his jacket. The driver, visibly upset, got out, and Lazlo helped the driver carry the man who’d been shot to Lazlo’s Zhiguli. The man’s arms swung limply, and there was a lot of blood. When they came closer, Juli saw the tears streaming down the driver’s cheeks.

After Juli got out of the Zhiguli, Lazlo reached inside and yanked the microphone out of the militia two-way radio. He and the driver of the Volga lowered the dead man into the Zhiguli’s passenger seat.

The driver stood to the side and looked at Juli. “He wasn’t meant for this kind of work. I told him not to point the gun. We worked in a post office. We read peoples’ mail and joked all day. We didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

The man took off his shoulder holster and handed it to Lazlo.

Lazlo took the holster and retrieved Juli’s bag from the back seat.

He motioned to the driver with his pistol.

“Get in my car and drive back to Kiev. Don’t stop anywhere.

Don’t go to a phone. Simply drive to Kiev. I’ll be watching, and if you stop anywhere … I don’t want to be forced to come after you.”

The driver shook visibly as he got into Lazlo’s Zhiguli.

After the Zhiguli drove slowly away, Lazlo threw Juli’s bag and the two shoulder holsters into the back seat of the Volga. He found an overcoat on the back seat and spread it over the bloodied front seat. Juli got in next to him.

“Sit close to me,” he said. “There’s no window on your side.”

He turned the Volga around.

“Are you going to follow him?” asked Juli.

“Only until we get to the main highway.”

“Won’t he stop and report us?”

“No. They didn’t even radio in.”

“How do you know?”

“An old Hungarian saying: When a man weeps, he’s telling the truth.”

“Are they really KGB?”

“A branch of it. Did you hear him mention the post office? They were recruited from the PK. This has been planned. They were supposed to panic, kill or be killed.”

“Why?”

Lazlo put his arm around her. “To make us as guilty as Komarov wants us to be.”

When they reached the paved highway, the Zhiguli turned north. Lazlo stopped the Volga and turned on its two-way radio. A female voice directed a numbered car to return to headquarters. No frantic calls to cross the river east of Kiev and go to Visenka.

Juli looked up to Lazlo, his profile so serious and sad. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m thinking.”

The morning sun was high and bright in the sky.

22
Daylight coming into Komarov’s window made the smoke from his cigarette into a wriggling, iridescent snake. He looked at his watch, after ten. By now the PK agents should have had Juli Popovics here for questioning. Because they were not here, he should be angry to be kept waiting, but he was content. He knew Detective Horvath would interfere with the pickup.

There were several possible outcomes. The PK agents might have injured or killed or captured Detective Horvath. Or Detective Horvath might have killed or injured them. Perhaps the van tracking Horvath was being used as a hearse. Perhaps Horvath tried to shoot it out with the PK agents and the other men following him.

The confrontation might have gone many ways, but somehow Horvath would be his, the evidence pointing to sabotage and conspiracy closer to completion. Horvath would become the Gypsy Moth with ties to the CIA. No one would know he had arranged Horvath’s visit to Visenka this morning. Horvath would have destroyed the poet’s note so as not to involve Tamara Petrov. As for the poet, his silence was guaranteed.

Earlier this morning on his way in to Kiev from Darnitsa, Komarov met the poet at their usual spot near the Monastery of the Caves. The poet wanted payment, but Komarov felt he could no longer fund the arts. The poet was careless, especially his unan-nounced visit to KGB headquarters yesterday, and Komarov found it necessary to use the knife.

The knock on Komarov’s door was heavy-handed. He expected news from Visenka. Instead, Captain Azef entered slowly and asked if he could speak about a personal matter. Azef, who normally resembled a henchman, sat across the desk, looking like a bald, stuffed bear.

“What is it you want, Captain? I’m busy with my investigation.”

“The investigation is the reason I’m here,” said Azef, looking down. “I’m concerned my position as your assistant is being taken over by Captain Brovko.”

Komarov forced back a smile at this petty jealousy. “What makes you think Captain Brovko is here to replace you?”

Azef looked up, folded his arms defiantly. “He was sent from Moscow, assigned to the Chernobyl case. Him instead of me, Major, even though I was involved from the beginning when we began observing the Horvath brothers. I have handled matters here in Kiev, having the Transportation Ministry prepare trains in the event of a second explosion, keeping Kiev’s print and broadcast information under control … I have performed as directed, yet Brovko investigates the Horvaths.”

Komarov put out his cigarette and stared at Azef. “After years of working together, you suddenly question my judgment?”

“Not your judgment,” said Azef. “I simply wish to be more involved in the Chernobyl investigation rather than emergency readiness.”