Kolymsky Heights (32 page)

By early afternoon the general had gone far to shaking up the midwinter lethargy of Tchersky. He was a burly, vigorous man, and he detested lethargy. To a certain extent he could
understand it here. Where he had come from, it grew light at eight and dark at four. Here it was dark all day. Such street lights as there were were on all day. The people crept about like dormice. Everything they did had to be rechecked. Everything the militia did had to be rechecked.

The first assignments he had delegated briskly, taking over the militia chiefs desk for the purpose. Helicopters had gone off, driving crews were being interviewed, scores of phone calls made. Now, with the transport question in hand, he could concentrate on other matters.

Principal among them was what the fellow had been doing here, and
where
he had been doing it. Early on he had discovered that he had not been where he said he had been. His neighbour, his girlfriend, his workmates, all said he had spent much of his time at a nearby collective. At this collective they’d never heard of him. He had not been there. But he had been
somewhere
.

A place had been arranged for him here: it was likely that cover had also been arranged. Or he had arranged it for himself. He had certainly in a short time made many contacts. In any case, somebody was covering for him
now
. That much was obvious.

He had arrived back in Tchersky at 4 p.m. on Friday and immediately disappeared. The man was a professional – knew he had to leave in a hurry, and before the local comedians could guess he had gone. He hadn’t wasted time hiding himself. He had
gone
; out of the area, fast. This meant an air trip. An air trip meant an airport.

How, stepping out at 4 p.m. in this hole of a town, could he get to an airport – and not Tchersky airport, since Tchersky militia wanted him? In a vehicle. An early thought had been a Transport Company vehicle; but now the general thought otherwise. This artist would already have arranged a vehicle for himself.

But where? Since the vanishing trick had been performed in Tchersky the answer seemed to be –
in
Tchersky. But no vehicle
was missing from Tchersky; at least had not been reported missing, which was another matter. If the vehicle had
not
been in Tchersky, then he had been taken to it.

In either case, someone was helping him.

That was one thing. Another was why he was here at all. This was much easier. He was here to get into Tcherny Vodi. And a curious fact had emerged, one the general had only learned on arrival; it seemed he had managed to get to it.

The general had tried to get to it himself, and had found this needed special permission from the establishment. This ridiculous situation he had promptly ordered Irkutsk to deal with, and was still awaiting some action. Now he decided to wait no longer. All other persons interrogated had been summoned to his office. On this one he decided to pay a personal call.

The medical officer did not rise as he entered, and he took off his hat and greatcoat, sizing her up.

‘I am afraid, Medical Officer, this fellow has duped you,’ he said.

‘So it seems.’ She was screwing the top on her fountain-pen, her smile frosty. ‘Not a common occurrence, I assure you.’

‘Yes. I hear you’re not easily fooled.’ His own smile was considerably warmer as he eased his bulk into a chair. An efficient-looking person, he saw; the first he had met in the place. ‘I am hoping you can put me right on a few points.’

Her intense nervousness she covered with an air of impatience, glancing at her watch, at the many papers on her desk. She knew the way this conversation had to be steered and the two points that had to be dropped into it. But this burly individual did not look very steerable and, as Johnny had warned, he knew his business.

She was astonished at how much he knew. He knew of the trips to Panarovka, to the Evenk herders, to Tcherny Vodi –
and in detail the militia had not asked her. He had even that morning had someone interviewing Viktoria Eremevina!

He paused over his notes for some moments.

‘The man has a contact here, Medical Officer. Someone is helping him. This trip to the herders, for instance – how did he come to get that for himself?’

‘I am afraid I helped him to it. I couldn’t drive at the time − a sprained ankle. Of course, anybody could have driven me to the helicopter. But he’d expressed interest in them, and just then was pestering me for jobs to do.’

The general looked at her. ‘How did he do that?’

Her heart faltered.

‘He telephoned me. Here.’

‘Did he? I don’t seem to have a note of that.’

‘I am sorry to have to tell you, General,’ she said crisply, ‘that we don’t keep an account of every telephone call here. The girls were busy so I answered myself. I told him of my ankle and said he could come with me to the herds if he wanted.’

The general continued staring.

‘Where was he phoning from?’ he said.

‘Where from? I don’t know.’

‘Was it a public phone?’

‘I’ve no idea. Is there some relevance to this?’

‘The relevance is where he was.’ The general looked at his notes, ‘He told various people that he was at a collective. We know that he wasn’t … It says here that he returned with you from Panarovka on a Sunday, and went to the herds the following Friday. That’s five days in between. The source of a call during those five days is the relevance.’

‘Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.’

The general considered.

‘He wouldn’t have been
far
. On the other hand, he wasn’t at home. But he was somewhere … Let’s try another tack. On the. way to Panarovka you picked him up at his apartment. But it seems you didn’t take him back there. Is that right?’

‘Yes. Quite right.’

‘Did he have some other means of getting back?’

The first of the points was coming up and she felt her pulse quicken.

‘No. I drove him part way and dropped him.’

‘Why?’

‘He asked to be dropped off.’

‘Where was this?’

‘On the outskirts of Green Cape.’

‘Did he say why he wanted dropping there?’

‘No. I assumed he was seeing a friend.’

‘Was this a residential area?’

‘Well, not the most salubrious – a few sheds, the town rubbish dump – but yes, people live there.’

‘How far would it be from here, from the medical centre?’

‘I would say … a kilometre, maybe one and a half.’

The general made a note, and frowned at it.

‘A kilometre, one and a half … All right, so you drop him there on Sunday, and five days later he picks you up and flies out to the herders … Where he stayed overnight, I believe.’

‘Yes. Weather. You have it there,’ she said impatiently.

‘Did he know these natives worked at Tcherny Vodi?’

‘Yes, he would have known that.’

‘What could they have told him about it?’

‘Nothing. They know nothing themselves.’

‘The security aspects – guard routines?’

‘Well that, yes. If it was of any use.’

He pondered.

‘You made two trips to Tcherny Vodi, I believe.’

She nodded. ‘During the first I had an emergency call and only stayed to unload medical supplies – perhaps twenty minutes. The second was a normal surgery.’

‘How long did that take?’

‘I suppose an hour and a half.’

‘What happened to him on these occasions?’

‘He remained under guard. Almost certainly they’d have kept him in the vehicle. Security is very tight up there.’

‘Yes … Well, it doesn’t seem,’ the general said slowly, ‘that he can have gathered much. But to have got up there at all was a very serious breach. Also a puzzling one … On these other trips, he’s off work, hanging about. But this time he’s back at work. How does
he
come to be driving you there? Did someone ask for him specially?’

‘No. We asked for a driver. They sent him. Of course I see now he must have been angling for the job.’

‘Could he have known you were going there?’

‘He could have guessed. They were told it was a three-day job – we group out-of-town trips – and I go regularly. Yes, he could have guessed.’

‘But you’d never used a driver there before.’

‘No. I have been fortunate enough,’ she said dryly, ‘not to have sprained an ankle before.’

‘Ah, the ankle. He knew about it. Tell me one thing more. You spent two nights of this trip at settlements in the area. Did he know anybody there?’

‘No. He’d never been before.’

‘Did anybody seem to know
him
?’

‘Not that I could tell.’

‘At both places – my officers have visited them – it seems he ate by himself, in his room. Doesn’t that seem strange?’

‘Perhaps it embarrassed him to eat in public’

‘Or perhaps he wished not to embarrass somebody else. There’s something funny about this. He keeps out of sight … Somewhere here, Medical Officer, he has a helper. A helper with a vehicle. These places
have
vehicles – running in and out of Tchersky.’

‘Well, I know nothing of this, General.’ She had glanced at her papers again.

‘But perhaps we can go into it a little … He had a
vehicle
here. Or expected one to be
waiting
for him here. He knew he,
would be back in three days, and that his mission was over. I think that’s all it was, incidentally – a look at the place, at the security arrangements. A trial run. And now he had to leave. Obviously he had made plans. But now they needed altering – the militia wanted to see him. Which meant he had to leave very rapidly. And he did. In a vehicle.’

The second point was coming up and again she felt her pulse begin to pound. She looked at her watch.

‘General, I don’t think I can help you with this.’

‘Perhaps you can.’ He smiled at her. ‘Let me explain it to you. When he left you, we know he can’t have gone far in the street. The militia have questioned people who were in it and nobody saw him. A familiar figure, quite distinctive, recognisable to everybody – but nobody saw him. I think because the vehicle he wanted was right there, close by the medical centre. When you came into town – try to think about this – did he seem to be looking for something?’

‘Well.’ She thought. ‘He was certainly looking for the turning – the turning into our loading bay at the rear. He missed it once. We had to go all round the square again.’

‘Did you, now? Cars parked there, I suppose. Did he look at the cars?’

‘He was looking for the turning.’

‘Yes. Did any of the cars flash their lights?’

‘Not that I remember.’

The general remained looking at her for some moments.

‘All right, so you go into the yard. And here he behaves strangely. We know he must be in a great hurry. Yet he doesn’t act in a hurry. He carefully helps them unload the van. He takes in the last of the stuff.
Tells
them it’s the last. He comes out, asks if you want anything more doing. Doesn’t that seem strange?’

‘Well, I agree – it does.’

‘As if he’s getting everybody off the premises?’

‘Perhaps. Yes.’

‘Had anything come in behind you, another vehicle?’

‘Not that I recall.’

‘Some activity going on in the yard – someone fiddling with an engine, cars manoeuvring about?’

‘No, no. Nothing like that. There
was
nothing there. Just his own bobik – and the rubbish truck.’

‘Which rubbish truck?’

‘The regular one, for our waste disposal.’

‘Where does the rubbish truck go?’

‘Well, I don’t know where –’

‘Is it there every day?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. And now, really, General –’

She had risen, and he rose with her.

‘Well, you have been very patient,’ he said, shrugging into his greatcoat. ‘And also very helpful. You have given much useful information.’

And so she had, and she sat shaking, listening to his boots march briskly down the corridor. She had offered the wrong end of the stick, and he had gladly accepted it. But where would it lead?

The wrong end of the stick; but a stick. And this general, a persistent man, was not going to let it go. Where it would lead, at the end, was to the right conclusion; but that was not yet.

The town rubbish dump, just outside Green Cape, stank so evilly that the general shielded his nose. He observed that the garbage was in a three-sided compound, conveniently open to the highway of the river.

Lights were strung and he saw that the enclosed sides were occupied by sheds and cabins. Two great garbage heaps were in the middle, a tipper-truck distributing its load on one, and several natives picking through the other.

‘These fellows live here?’ he asked the chief of militia.

‘Yes. In the cabins, with their families. Yakuts.’

‘Call one over.’

The chief did so, and introduced the dignitary.

The man grinned at him affably.

‘All well here?’ the general asked, himself very affable.

‘Yes. All well.’

‘A good life?’

‘Sure. Good life. Anything I do for you, General?’

‘Just looking around. Kolya thought it interesting. You know – Kolya, Kolya Khodyan. Nice fellow. Remember him?’

‘Khodyan? No. Don’t know this name.’

‘Show him the photo,’ he said to his young aide, Volodya.

The man looked at the photo.

‘Nice photo of him,’ the general said.

‘Yes, nice.’

‘Been here lately?’

‘Who been here?’

‘This man.’

‘No. Don’t know this man.’

And the same with the others, and with their families, the general observing that the ladies first of all consulted their husbands before disclaiming knowledge of the nice man.

The sheds, however, produced better results.

They were large sheds, used for the storage of selected pickings; and the pickings of one of them were motor parts. Doors, seats, exhausts, wheels, tyres: all these not heaped on the ground but stacked quite neatly around the walls. On the ground, in the vacant centre, was an oil stain, and the marks left by four wheels.