The Secret Speech - Страница 43

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The prisoner reluctantly nodded:

— It is true.

The commander took a step down:

— For that act, can I not take a step down? I accept that I have not yet done enough good to offset my wrongs. So why not allow me to live? Allow me to spend the rest of my life trying to make amends? Is that not better than dying?

— What about the people you killed?

— What about the people I saved? Since Stalin’s death, the mortality rate in this camp is the lowest in Kolyma. That is the result of my changes. I increased food rations. I have given you longer rest periods and shorter working days. I have improved medical care. The sick no longer die! The sick recover. You know this to be true! The reason you were able to overpower the guards is because you are better fed, better rested, and stronger than you have ever been before! I am the reason this uprising is even possible!

The lawyer stepped up to the commander, flustered that his system was in disarray:

— We said nothing about being able to take a step down.

The lawyer turned to the triptych of convict leaders:

— Do we wish to change the system?

The square-jawed leader turned to his comrades:

— The commander asks for a second chance. Do we grant it?

It began as a murmur, the answer growing louder and louder as more joined in.

— No second chance! No second chance! No second chance!

The commander’s face dropped. He genuinely believed he’d done enough to be spared. The lawyer turned to the condemned man. Clearly they hadn’t thought the process through. No one had been designated the role of executioner. The commander took from his pocket one of the small, dried purple flowers, clutching it in his fist. He climbed to the top of the stairs, staring up at the night sky. The lawyer spoke, his voice quivering under the pressure:

— We offer a collective judgment. We must perform a collective punishment.

Guns were drawn. The lawyer stepped clear. The commander cried out:

— One last thing…

Handguns, rifles, and bursts from a machine gun — the commander fell back, as if flicked over by a giant finger. Villainous in life, in the face of death he had achieved a kind of dignity. The prisoners resented him for it. They would allow him no more words.

The mood in the makeshift court transitioned from excitement to solemnity. Clearing his throat, the lawyer asked:

— What shall we do with the body?

Someone said:

— Leave it there, for the next one to see.

It was agreed. The body would be left.

— Who is next?

Leo tensed. Georgi declared:

— Leo Stepanovich Demidov.

The lawyer peered out over the guards:

— Who is this? Who is Leo?

Leo didn’t move. The lawyer called out:

— Stand up or you will forfeit your trial and we will execute you immediately!

Slowly, not entirely sure that his legs wouldn’t give way, Leo stood up. The lawyer ushered him to the bottom step, where he turned to face his court. The lawyer asked:

— Are you a guard?

— No.

— What are you?

— I am a member of the Moscow militia. I was sent here undercover.

Georgi called out:

— He’s a Chekist!

The crowd, his jury and judge, burst into a flurry of anger. Leo glanced at his accuser. Georgi was acting independently. Lazar was reading a sheet of paper, a list of Leo’s crimes perhaps. The lawyer asked:

— Is this true? Are you a Chekist?

— In the past, I was a member of the MGB.

The lawyer called out:

— Examples of his crimes!

Georgi replied:

— He denounced Lazar!

The prisoners jeered. Leo took a step up. Georgi continued:

— He beat Lazar! Smashed his jaw!

Leo was guided up the next step.

— He arrested Lazar’s wife!

Leo was now standing on the fourth step.

— He arrested members of Lazar’s congregation!

As Leo stood on the fifth step, Georgi had run out of things to say. No one else in the compound knew Leo. No one else could name his crimes. The lawyer declared:

— We need more examples! Seven more!

Frustrated, Georgi called out:

— He’s a Chekist!

The lawyer shook his head:

— That is not an example.

According to the rules of their system, no one knew him well enough to convict him, no one, that is, except Leo himself. The prisoners were dissatisfied. They were rightly certain that, as a Chekist, there must be many more examples unknown to them. Leo sensed that the system would not protect him. Had he not witnessed the commander’s execution, he might have climbed to the top and admitted his wrongdoings. But he had no speech more eloquent than the commander’s. His life depended upon the rules of their system. They would need seven more examples. They did not have them.

Georgi, refusing to give up, cried out:

— How many years were you a Chekist?

After serving in the army, Leo had been recruited into the secret police. He had been a Chekist for five years.

— Five years.

Addressing the assembled convicts, Georgi asked:

— Is it not easy to believe that he wronged at least two people each year? Is that so hard to believe of a Chekist?

The crowd agreed: two steps for each year. Leo turned to the lawyer, hoping he would overrule this amendment. The lawyer shrugged, the suggestion became law. He ushered Leo to the top. He had been sentenced to death.

Unable to comprehend that this was the end, Leo didn’t move. A voice cried out:

— To the top or we’ll shoot you where you stand!

Lightheaded, Leo climbed to the top, standing over the commander’s bullet-ridden body, an array of guns pointed at him.

A voice, the man who hated him, Georgi, cried out:

— Wait!

Leo watched as Lazar spoke into Georgi’s ear. Unusually, Georgi wasn’t translating simultaneously. When Lazar had finished Georgi looked at him, questioning. Lazar indicated that he repeat his words. Georgi turned to Leo, asking:

— My wife is alive?

Georgi took the paper from Lazar’s hand, carrying it to Leo and offering it to him. Leo crouched down, recognizing the letter written by Fraera, proof that she was alive and containing information only she could’ve known. Timur had been carrying it. Before he’d been killed, the guards must have stripped him of all his belongings:

— It was found in the pocket of a guard. You were not lying.

— No.

— She is alive?

— Yes.

Lazar indicated that Georgi return, whispering into his ear. With reluctant obedience Georgi announced:

— I request that he be spared.

MOSCOW
SAME DAY

LIKE TWO MONGREL CATS, Zoya and Malysh sat side by side on the roof of Apartment Block 424. Zoya remained close to Malysh, keen to reassure him that she didn’t want to escape. After the exertion of traveling several kilometers through sewer systems, climbing ladders, sidestepping slime-thick walls, both of them were damp with sweat and it was pleasant being on the rooftop, fanned by a cool night breeze. Zoya felt invigorated. Partly that was due to the exercise after many sedentary days and nights. Mostly it was because she was with him. This felt like the childhood stolen from her — mischievous adventure with a kindred spirit.

Zoya glanced at the photo pinched between Malysh’s fingers:

— What is her name?

— Marina Niurina.

Zoya took the photo from him. Niurina was a woman in her thirties, stern and prim. She was wearing a uniform. Zoya returned the photo, asking:

— You’re going to kill her?

Malysh gave a small nod of his head, as if someone had asked him if they could have a cigarette. Zoya wasn’t sure whether she believed him or not. She’d seen him attack the vory who’d tried to rape her. He was skilled with a knife. Reticent and moody, he didn’t seem like someone who made idle brags.

— Why?

— She’s a Chekist.

— What did she do?

Malysh looked at her quizzically, not understanding. Zoya expanded the question:

— Did she arrest people? Did she interrogate them?

— I don’t know.

— You’re going to kill her but you don’t know what she did?

— I told you. She’s a Chekist.

Zoya wondered how much he knew about the secret police. She remarked, cautiously:

— You don’t know much about them, do you, the secret police? Not really, I mean?

— I know what they did.

Malysh thought about this for a while before adding:

— They arrested people.

— Don’t you need to know a little more about a person before you kill them?

— Fraera has given me orders. I don’t need any other reason.

— That’s what they would say, the Chekists, about the things they did: that they were just following orders.

Malysh became irritated:

— Fraera has said you can help. So you can help. She didn’t say anything about asking a lot of stupid questions. I can take you back to your cell, if that’s what you want.

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