Child Thief (45 page)

I pulled out the chair at the other end of the table and sat down. ‘I thought you dogs don't believe in God.'

Using one hand, Lermentov poured
horilka
into his cup and pushed the other one across to me. ‘Drink with me.'

I took the cup and drank the contents, feeling the alcohol burn my throat.

Lermentov nodded his approval and drank, then placed the pistol back on the tabletop. ‘I don't know what anyone believes in now, Luka Mikhailovich. God, communism, our great leader. It seems like everything's gone to shit. Everyone's forgotten who they are and what the damn revolution was for. It's like we're barely human any more.' Lermentov poured another generous measure into his cup. This time he drank without toasting.

I continued to watch him. He was obviously drunk and his reactions would be slow. I reconsidered taking the policeman as a hostage. Lermentov had dissuaded me from it before, made me see danger I hadn't considered, but now it seemed possible again. I saw no other option.

‘You'd never make it,' Lermentov said, putting his hand on the weapon. ‘I can see how your mind's working. You wouldn't get away. Anyway, there's no need. I'm going to let you see your wife and daughter.' He watched for my reaction. ‘I just told that soldier to bring them here.'

‘Why?'

‘You know, you were right about me.' His words were slow, heavy with alcohol. ‘There was a time back in Sushne when I thought you could see right through me.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘I have a daughter, and that made me hate you
so
much. I wanted to punish you for everything I felt. I really thought you'd hurt that child. I thought you'd cut her.'

I looked at him, hating him and everything he stood for. ‘That's no excuse for what you did to me. And you did the same thing to others for no reason.'

‘We live in hard times.'

‘Made harder by men like you.'

Lermentov nodded and looked away to the corner of the room. ‘We do what we have to.'

‘Don't pretend you have to behave the way you do,' I said. ‘That's no excuse for the things you've done. You sent Dariya away to work.'

‘So she could be with you.'

‘And you left Kostya in the bell tower to die. You're—' ‘And what have you done, Luka Mikhailovich?' Lermentov raised his voice, the words slurring together. ‘How many wars have you fought? How many men have you murdered and how many villages have you burned? How many times have
you
forgotten who you are?' He stopped and took a breath, speaking the next words in a near-whisper. ‘Even good men can do bad things.'

I put my hands on the table and stared at him. ‘I only ever did what I thought was right. What I had to do to survive.'

Lermentov nodded and sat back. ‘The same excuse we all use.'

‘It's different.' But I remembered some of the things I'd done
and wondered if Lermentov wasn't right: if we didn't all just do what we had to do to survive.
Even good men can do bad things
.

It's not
so
different,' he said. ‘You think I'm any safer from men like me than you are? It's kulaks now, but how long will it be before we look inwards? No one trusts anyone. The police are no different.'

‘That's the world you people made,' I told him, and the silence that followed was interrupted by a knock at the door.

‘You ready?' Lermentov asked.

‘For what?' I turned to look as the latch dropped and the door opened. The soldier who stood framed by darkness moved to one side and Natalia stepped into what had been our home.

Seeing her almost took my breath away, and I felt both joy and sadness in my heart. Joy at her presence, but sadness at the thought of what was to come. But for now we looked at each other unable to believe we were together again. For now all that mattered was that moment.

‘Papa,' Lara said, appearing from behind her mother and running straight to me. She threw her arms around my legs and squeezed them tight as I put down a hand to pull her to me. I held my other hand out to Natalia and she came closer so all three of us were reunited. She put her fingers on my face as if to reassure herself I was really there, and her eyes filled with tears.

‘You found her,' Lara said. ‘The man told us you found Dariya.'

‘Yes,' I said, seeing Svetlana come into the room.

Once she was inside, Lermentov ordered the soldier to leave. He saluted the policeman and closed the door behind him.

‘What about Viktor and Petro?' Natalia asked. ‘Where are they?'

‘Somewhere safe.' I looked across at Lermentov, who was still sitting behind the table with the pistol in his hand. I couldn't tell Natalia where Viktor was, not with the policeman there, and I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth about Petro. This was not the time. Soon she would be taken from me and our family would be fragmented for the last time, so it was better for her to
think both her sons were safe from this nightmare. She didn't need to know.

Lermentov kept his eyes on me and stood. ‘You have until morning,' he said.

‘Before what?' I asked.

‘This village is going to be cleared.' He put the pistol on the table and went to the door, turning to look at me standing with my family. ‘If I were you, I'd gather what you can and leave. Just the four of you.'

‘You're letting us go?'

‘It would be safer if you leave before I remember what I'm supposed to be. A man like you, with your skills, I think you might even make it to Poland.'

‘Is this a trick?'

‘No.' The policeman put his hand on the latch and opened the door.

‘But why?'

Lermentov stopped without turning round. ‘Perhaps I forgot who I really am for a while,' he said. ‘Or maybe it works both ways: maybe even bad men can do good things.'

Then he stepped out into the cold and closed the door behind him.

About the Author

Dan Smith grew up following his parents across the world. He has been writing short stories for as long as he can remember and has been published in the anthology
Matter 4
, shortlisted for the Royal Literary Fund mentor scheme, the Northern Writers' Award, the 2010 Brit Writers' Published Author of the Year Award and the Best First Novel Award. He lives in Newcastle with his family. Find out more about Dan at
www.dansmithsbooks.com

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Dan Smith

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