The Secret Speech - Страница 49

He was Lazar’s voice now. Frol Panin stepped out of his executive limousine, a guard moving in perfect synchronization, opening an umbrella above him. He offered his hand to Lazar:

— My name is Frol Panin. I’m sorry I couldn’t arrange your freedom more conveniently. Your wife’s actions made any official release impossible. Come, we must hurry. We can speak in the car.

In the back of the ZIL limousine Lazar studied the soft leather upholstery and walnut panels with an infantlike fascination. There were ice cubes in a small silver jug, a bowl of fresh fruit. Lazar picked up an orange, cupping it in his hands, squeezing it. Panin politely ignored the behavior: the bewilderment of a convict surrounded by luxury. He handed Leo a map of Moscow.

— That’s all we received from Fraera.

Leo examined the map. A central location was marked with an ink crucifix:

— What’s there?

— We couldn’t find anything.

The car began to move.

— Where is Raisa?

— I spoke to her earlier. She was going to wait for the car. When the car arrived, they found your parents looking after Elena. Raisa had gone out.

Alarmed, Leo sat forward:

— She’s supposed to be under protective custody.

— We can’t protect someone who doesn’t want to be protected.

— You don’t know where she is?

— I’m sorry, Leo.

Leo sat back. There was no doubt in his mind that Fraera was involved in Raisa’s disappearance.

* * *

IT WAS TWO IN THE MORNING by the time they arrived in the city center. The contrast to the wilderness of Kolyma was so pronounced that Leo felt sick with disorientation, a sensation exacerbated by sleep deprivation and drumming anxiety. They stopped in the middle of Moskvoretskaya Naberezhnaya, the main road that followed the Moskva, at the point marked on the map. The driver got out. Panin’s bodyguard joined him. The two officers checked the area, returning to the car.

— There’s nothing here!

Leo stepped out. The rain was heavy: he was soaked through in a matter of seconds. The street was empty. He could hear the rain running down the drain. He crouched down. The manhole cover was under the car.

— Drive forward!

The limousine moved forward, exposing the cover. Leo wrenched it open, pushing it aside. The guards were on either side of him, guns ready. The drop was deep. There was no one on the ladder.

Leo returned to the car:

— Do you have flashlights?

Panin nodded:

— In the trunk.

Leo opened the trunk, checking the flashlights, handing one to Lazar.

Leo took the lead, climbing down first, gripping the ladder, the shudder-inducing memory of torn skin combining with the real-time pain he felt in his knees. Sheets of rain spilled over the edge, splashing his hands, neck, and face. Lazar followed. Panin called down:

— Good luck.

As soon as they were both below street level the manhole was closed, the steel lid clattering shut, cutting off the streams of rainwater and the streetlight. In the pitch-black darkness they paused, turning on their flashlights before continuing down.

Reaching the bottom of the ladder, Leo surveyed the main tunnel. It was filled with a torrent of white, swirling water. The heavy rain had caused an overflow. Instead of modest, filthy streams, cascades of crashing water were channeling across the city. Unsure whether it was possible to proceed, Leo was forced to suppose the existence of some kind of ledge. Testing his theory, he hung down, tentatively exploring with his boot. The narrow ledge was submerged underwater.

Leo shouted to Lazar, projecting his voice above the noise:

— Stay close to the wall!

Lazar climbed down, Leo guiding him. Pressed flat against the wall, the two of them crisscrossed their flashlights in every direction searching for some instruction. In the distance, a hundred or so meters down the tunnel, there was a light.

Setting off toward the light, along the narrow ledge, the water level in the tunnel was rising, splashing around their knees. Each step required ferocious concentration. Only meters away, Leo saw a lantern fixed to the wall above the outline of a door. Scraping at the thick slime that covered the walls, he pushed the door open. Water poured in, down a flight of concrete stairs descending farther underground. They hurried, closing the door behind them, cutting the water off— relieved to be clear of the perilous ledge.

Inside the narrow spiral staircase the air was dank and hot. They descended in silence, their breathing echoing around the closed chamber. After fifty or so steps they came across another door. Leo pushed hard on the steel frame, the hinges creaking. There was no stench of sewage, no flowing water, just silence. He turned to Lazar:

— Stay here.

Leo entered the new tunnel, exploring it with his flashlight. The walls were dry. His foot kicked a steel track — they were in a metro tunnel.

Like an underground sunrise a soft yellow light appeared, emanating from an old-fashioned mining lantern, a flickering gas flame held by a man. He was alone, his proportions grotesquely muscular, tattoos stretched across his hands and neck.

— Don’t move.

The vory searched Leo and Lazar. Finished, he shut the steel door that led up to the sewers, locking it. He swung around, indicating the direction they were going to walk. They set off, Leo in front, Lazar just behind, the vory at the back, commenting as they went:

— This metro line isn’t on any map. After it was completed the workers were executed so that its existence could remain a secret. It’s called the spetztunnel and it runs from Kremlin to Ramenkoye, an underground town fifty kilometers away. If the West attacks our leaders will descend here, sitting on silk cushions while Moscow burns.

After some distance the vory stopped walking.

— Here.

There was a steel door in the wall. Leo opened it, shining his flash-light up at the concrete stairway, thankful that it climbed upward. The vory closed the door on them. Seconds later there was a hissing sound: the lock was rendered useless with acid. No one could follow them.

Damp with sweat, they reached the top of the steps, finding the door unlocked and exiting into Taganskaya metro station. Leo walked out of the station into the middle of Taganskaya Square, exasperated, searching for what to do next. Lazar raised his arm, pointing in the direction of the river some two hundred meters away. There was a woman standing in the middle of Bolshoy Krasnokholmskiy Bridge.

Leo hurried, Lazar by his side. As they reached the riverbank, without the protection of the buildings, the wind doubled in strength. The bridge was a stark concrete arch, and swirling below, the Moskva was tumultuous with the night’s downpour. The woman remained in the middle of the bridge, waiting for them, rain sloshing off her jacket. Drawing close, Leo recognized that jacket. It belonged to him.

Raisa lowered her hood.

Running forward, reaching her side, taking her hands, he was befuddled with emotions — concern and relief. Raisa shook her hands free of his grip.

— Why didn’t you tell me about Zoya? She held a knife over you. You told me nothing was wrong. You lied to me, about something like that? What did we promise? No more lies! No more secrets! We promised, Leo!

— Raisa, I panicked. I wanted a chance to put things right before telling you. After you came out of hospital, I was preparing to go to Kolyma. You were still weak.

— Leo, I wasn’t weak. You were! This isn’t about being a hero. It’s about what’s best for Zoya and Elena. I met Fraera. She came to me. There’s no way she’s going to hand Zoya over to you. It’s never going to happen.

On the south side of the bridge car headlights appeared, beams of light blurred by the downpour. The car accelerated toward them, causing Leo to raise his hand, shielding his eyes from the powerful headlights. The car braked. Doors opened. The driver was a vory. Fraera stepped out of the passenger side, indifferent to the rain. She glanced at Leo, then at Raisa, before concentrating her attention on Lazar, her husband.

Lazar walked toward her, uncertain, evidently shocked, despite Leo’s warnings, at her transformation. They stood opposite each other. Exploring his appearance, she touched the side of his face, feeling the shape of his injured jaw. He winced at her touch but didn’t pull away. She said:

— You have suffered.

Leo watched as Lazar mouthed the words:

— We have… a son?

— Our son is dead. Your wife is dead.

A gunshot, a flash of light — Lazar fell to his knees, clutching his stomach.

Leo ran forward, catching Lazar as he fell. His teeth were red with blood. Stunned by the senseless execution, Leo turned to Fraera:

— Why?

She didn’t reply, looming over him, offering no explanation. He looked down at Lazar’s body, cradled in his arms. The man he’d betrayed, and rescued, the man who’d saved his life, was dead. Leo lowered his body, laying him down on the road.

Fraera grabbed Leo by the shirt:

— Get in the front of the car.

She waved her gun at Raisa:

— You too!