Child Thief (20 page)

‘Of course.'

‘So wait for me at home. And if anyone comes to the village, give them what they want.'

‘You mean communists?' Viktor asked.

‘We're all communists,' Petro said.

‘Communists, Chekists, Bolsheviks, whatever you want to call them.'

‘Whoever it is, don't put yourselves in any danger,' I said. ‘Just give them what they want, and when I come home we're going to leave this damn country.'

‘We're not going to leave you alone.' Viktor looked at his brother, and I knew they both wanted to come for different reasons. Petro felt responsible. He thought it was his fault Dariya was missing and he felt a duty to her. He had failed to bring her back once, and he was determined not to do it again. Viktor, on the other hand, was drawn to the fight. He wanted to find Dariya and he wanted to help his father, and the promise of action excited him.

‘I've already told you, it's safer for me alone. Don't argue with me.'

‘What about you, then?' Petro said. ‘If we go back, what will you do?'

‘I'll cross the fields tonight, when it's dark. I'll find his trail in the morning and follow him.'

‘And if he's waiting?'

‘I don't think he will be. Not there, anyway.'

‘But later. In the forest. Or maybe when you come out into another field. He'll be waiting then, won't he?' Viktor said.

‘Yes.'

‘And you'll be alone.'

‘Yes.'

‘Then it's better to have us to help you.'

‘No.' I shook my head. ‘I'll move faster on my own. I know what I'm looking for.'

‘Then teach us,' said Viktor.

‘And I'll be harder to see if I'm alone. If we're together, we're easier prey.'

‘We'll keep apart.'

‘Stop.' I held up a hand and raised my voice. ‘I said no and I
mean no. I'm not taking you out there for that man to put a bullet in your belly like he did with Dimitri. I'm not going to listen to your screams. I can't do that. I won't go home to your mother to tell her I couldn't keep you safe.' I closed my eyes and remembered the times I had done the same as the child thief had done that day. The times
I
had waited for the moment to take the shot.
I
had dropped a man alive so his comrades would try to help him, and I had taken them too, when they came into the open.

‘Everything has changed,' I said, my voice quiet. ‘We're not just hunting him now; he's hunting us.'

14

By the time the wind dropped and the snowfall subsided, night had come to the steppe. We huddled by the fire, our clothes more or less dry now, our stomachs empty and grumbling.

‘We need to find our things,' I said, standing. ‘You two wait here.'

I didn't give them time to object. I took the revolver from my satchel and stuffed it into my coat pocket before breaking a solid stick, half my height, from the pile of firewood. I put the satchel in the snow where I'd leaned my rifle against a birch and walked through the trees to the place where they formed a line along the edge of the field. It was dark, the sky still clouded, but the snow brightened the open ground. My silhouette would stand out, but I kept low, hoping it would be enough, knowing that if the man was still watching, his telescopic lens would be unable to take in enough light. I was invisible to him now.

I moved down to the place we'd escaped from earlier, where everything was now under a thick covering of snow, and began poking the stick into the soft undulations. I pushed hard, moving from side to side, searching for our packs, and within a few moments the end of the branch touched something solid but with a little give in it. This was not frozen soil but something else, so I knelt down to brush the snow aside.

This wasn't where I had left my pack. This was the place where Dimitri had died.

I squatted and cleared away the fresh snow, revealing a patch of
dark cloth, moving my fingers around the edge until I made out Dimitri's shoulder.

I paused for a moment, imagining him lying beneath the covering, his face frozen in that expression of fear and confusion and begging. I heard the ripple of his dying sounds in my mind, shook them away, and continued to dig. I knew I could let nothing go to waste; nothing useful should be left behind.

I followed the line of Dimitri's leg until his feet were uncovered, digging down and lifting them in turn, pulling off his boots and socks. I stuffed the socks into the boots, tied the laces and then strung them around my neck so they fell against my chest. With that done, I removed Dimitri's coat, wrestling with his frozen limbs, before I reburied him and stood up.

Dimitri would stay there until spring, hidden just below the surface, but when the temperature rose and the snow melted, he would thaw and lie in the open, by the forest which would be freshly adorned with leaves and new life. And then something would find him and make him its meal.

I intended there to be one more body to join him.

Continuing to search, I found all of our belongings before going back to the trees, looking for the vague glow of the fire. The windbreak I'd made had done its job well, and the fire pit helped to keep the flames hidden from sight as well as from the wind. It was hard to spot anything, even this close.

When I came back to the fire, both Viktor and Petro were pointing their rifles in my direction. Viktor kneeling behind a fallen tree, Petro standing close to the trunk of another, the barrel of his rifle resting on a low branch. Shadow cast from the flames flickered across his shape.

‘It's only me,' I said, feeling a touch of pride that they'd thought to take up a defensive position. They had been alert to the sounds in the forest, and that was a good sign. Despite everything that had happened, they were still thinking. I was certain they would make it home without me.

My sons came back to the fire as I rummaged through the
packs, making some things more accessible than others, ensuring I had everything I'd need. The situation had changed now; my priorities were different. Before, there had been three of us to carry everything, but now there would be only me. And when we left the village this morning we were just following tracks, chasing a thief. But now the thief had turned on us and I saw his intention was not as I'd first thought. There were some items I'd need to have close to hand.

‘Let us come,' Viktor said as I finished packing the bag.

‘Don't make me talk about this again.' I checked the red nine pistol was loaded, and put it into my satchel. I closed the top and fastened the buckle.

‘I'm not planning on taking too long,' I said. ‘I'il be over the fields in no time, pick up his trail in the woods as soon as it's light. I'll be fine. And if the sky clears, and I can see the tracks at night, it'll be easier for me to follow if I'm alone.' If I could, I would go on in the dark, as I had failed to do the previous night. There was a chance the child thief would do as he had done before – find a place to rest – and if that were so, I might discover him as he slept and be able put an end to this hunt.

‘And if it
is
too dark to go on?' Petro said. ‘Where will you sleep? What will you eat?'

‘I have wire, I can make a snare. I'll find tracks and catch something. I have enough guns to shoot something – I'm a hunter for God's sake. And anyway, how will it be any easier if
you
come? Will I be less hungry? Less tired?'

Petro didn't answer. He didn't even shake his head.

‘Please,' I said. ‘Do as I ask. Go home to your mother. Tell your sister I'll bring her cousin back soon.'

‘And Dimitri?' Viktor asked. ‘What do we tell them about him?'

I stared down at my feet and thought about Svetlana. I couldn't ask my sons to carry that news. ‘Tell them he's still with me.'

‘What about his coat? And his boots? You want us to leave them?'

‘No,' I sighed, ‘they're too valuable.'

‘So how do we explain—'

‘Petro will do it,' I said, looking up at my youngest. ‘I want you to tell Mama what happened. She'll speak to Svetlana.'

Petro didn't ask why I had chosen him.

I stared after my sons as they left the small circle of light and walked into the darkness with their reluctance and their annoyance clear in their eyes. I watched the place where the night had taken them and I warmed myself one last time by the flames before I kicked snow into the pit and suffocated the fire. It flickered and fought to survive, hissing and spitting, but it quickly succumbed to the snow and gave up the last of its light and warmth.

I threw the pack over my back, kept my satchel close to my side and took up my rifle before moving away in the other direction. Once again I stepped out onto the open field and headed across the steppe.

I had a fix on the place I wanted to go. I remembered the direction of the tracks and I remembered the place where the man had run into the trees. The sky was without stars, but the field was white enough to collect just enough light for me to know where I was going.

I tried to be aware of the land around me, of movement and sound, but I had to concentrate just to put one foot in front of the other. The snow was deeper now, and the rise and fall of the land beneath it was invisible. I stumbled a few times, but kept on going until I reached the hedge. I had only travelled a few hundred metres, but it felt longer and I was beginning to sweat beneath my clothes. As a younger man, I could have crossed that distance in half the time and hardly felt it in my chest and legs, but years and circumstance had slowed me.

Pausing at the hedge, I allowed my heartrate to return to normal, giving my body a moment to rest. I didn't want to sweat, to dampen my clothes with moisture that would freeze and steal
my warmth. I stood and looked out at the wood beyond, seeing nothing but the trees and the darkness. Dariya was out there somewhere. Alive or dead, I had no way of knowing.

As I moved along the line of the hedge, looking for a way to pass through, I imagined the man with the rifle doing the same. I pictured him dragging Dariya with him, perhaps tied, or maybe she followed him because she had nowhere else to go, or because he had tempted her with some kind of promise. And it struck me that the child was now dependent on the thief. The kidnapper had provided shelter and warmth, perhaps even food, and without those things Dariya would die in that wilderness. She was now reliant on the child thief to keep her alive and protect her. She was damned if she remained with him, and damned if she managed to escape. I was her only hope.

Coming to a place where the hedge was thinner, I turned sideways, pushing through the branches, knowing this was where my enemy would have passed through. His clothes would have touched these branches. His hands.

Within the woods on the other side of the field I spotted a number of burrows, cleared and left open, suggesting they were still inhabited. There were small prints in the snow, droppings on the surface, and I guessed my approach had disturbed the rabbits back to their holes. These signs were visible in the natural light, but once I was deeper among the beech and oak and hornbeam, everything became more obscure, and I knew I wouldn't be able to track this man during the night. There was some light here, but not enough. I could see disturbances on the ground, the spot where the man had waited to take his first shot, and I found the marks where he'd crawled back to his place by the tree, unsettling the dusting of delicate light green moss on the bark, but the fresh snow had made an impact on the tracks. The marks were smooth, the footprints barely discernible. Here they were almost impossible to spot; even further into the woods and they would be invisible.

I cursed my fortune and tried to find some reassurance in my
inability to track Dariya at night. It meant at least that yesterday's decision had been the right one. I also consoled myself with the suspicion that this man wanted to be followed and would therefore ensure it was possible to track him. It was the only thing that made any sense and, as twisted as it seemed, it felt as if this was all part of a macabre game. He had taken Dariya as bait and he was leaving a trail that was easy to follow. He seemed to be doing everything he could to invite me to go after him so, resigned to waiting until dawn, I decided to make camp.

I moved away from the place where I had found the tracks and set about building a quick shelter for the night. It was something I had learned as a soldier, mostly through trial and error rather than training, and had put into practice many times. I had shared my observations with comrades, and they had shared theirs with me, until I had found the best way to provide shelter under many different circumstances. And I had practised many times, both at war and later while hunting to feed my family.

I used the trenching tool to pull together as much snow as I could, piling it into a mound along the length of a fallen tree. I packed it hard and used the small shovel to hollow it out. As I worked, I imagined the child thief doing the same. The shelter he had made for himself and Dariya had been efficient and uncomplicated, and it reinforced my belief that the man I was hunting had also been a soldier.

When I was finished, I built a low windbreak close to the entrance of the shelter, leaving me enough room to shuffle inside. It took me no longer than an hour to build, but I was exhausted when it was finally ready. It was small, compact, and would keep me warm during the night. I thought I might even be able to sleep for a few hours, but it was unlikely, knowing what was out there.

Before settling, I took a couple of wire snares and returned to the place where I'd seen the burrows. I collected some twigs and set the snares close to the entrances of two of them, hiding the base of each noose in the snow. The air was quiet, almost no
wind, and there was a strong sense of being alone in the world, and when my mind wandered from the task an unnerving sensation crept in. As if something was out there, in the birch scrub and the darkness – something that was part of the forest – and I couldn't help recall Dariya's fears of the Baba Yaga.