Snow Wolf (40 page)

Just when Lukin thought he could stand no
more, the film reeled to a close and the lights came on overhead.

Lukin blinked. There was an outburst of
coughing as f weary bodies pushed themselves slowly out of their plush seats.
Lukin froze in shock.

The figure of Joseph Stalin rose from one
of the seats in the front row, the withered left hand, the bushy gray eyebrows
and hair, the heavy mustache unmistakable, He wore a simple gray tunic and
looked frailer than Lukin imagined, his skin pale and waxen, but he was smiling
as he lit his pipe and went to stand among a group of well-fed men. They were
laughing, as if someone had made a joke.

Lukin recognized the other faces
instantly.

Nikolai Bulganin, the sober-faced former
Defense Minister and beside him a grinning Georgi Malenkov, the fat, bagg,
trousered senior member of the Communist Party Presidium. One other figure
stood out from the group. A bald, stunte heavy-set man in a black baggy suit.
His pumpkin head seemed to have no neck, and behind his wirerimmed glasses his
watchful eyes looked full of menace. His portrait adorned every wall inside
Dzerzhinsky Square.

Lavrenty Beria, head of State Security.

Lukin sat rigid in his seat in a cold
sweat. What was going on? Why had he been summoned here?

The colonel next to him stood, his big
frame towering above Lukin.

"Wait here."

And then he was gone toward the front
row. The room started to empty.

Lukin saw an officer open a door to the
right and Moloto and Malenkov stepped out. Moments later Joseph Stalin shuffled
toward the door, but at the last moment he hesitated, then looked back, his
eyes narrowing. He stared over at Lukin.

Lukin felt his pulse race. He was unsure
if Stalin was smiling or glaring at him, but the man was definitely looking his
way. and with a look that suggested distaste. Uncomfortably, Lukin went to rise
from his seat, but just then Stalin turned abruptly, and went out of the door.

Lukin let out a breath, not knowing what
to make of it all. He glanced anxiously around the room. Only the big Colonel
who had led him in, the projectionist and Beria remained.

Suddenly the colonel beckoned for Lukin
to join them. Lukin stood and moved down to the front row.

The colonel said bluntly, "Major
Lukin, Comrade Beria."

Beria was standing, his stunted body lost
next to the towering figure beside him.

Reptilian, olive-black eyes bored into
Lukin from behind his glasses, the pasty face grinned crookedly and a silky
voice said, "So this is Major Lukin. The pleasure is all mine, I'm
sure."

"Comrade Beria."

Beria didn't offer a hand, but slumped
into a leather chair. The man had a frightening, grotesque appearance. In the
red leather chair he looked not much taller than a circus dwarf, his feet
dangling over the edge of the seat. The feet, large and flat and awkward,
seemed out of proportion with the rest of his body. A diamond pin glinted on a
gray silk tie.

Plump fingers gestured to a seat.
"Sit, Lukin."

As Lukin sat, Beria turned to the
projectionist. "Leave the last reel loaded and go."

The man did as he was told and saluted,
then scurried out, closing the door after him. Beria said, "Well, Lukin,
did you find our last film entertaining? Speak up, Major."

"It wasn't pleasant, Comrade
Beria."

Beria smiled thinly. "Nevertheless,
such punishment is often necessary. Those you saw executed were guilty of
serious crimes. Vagabonds and thieves and common criminals. As such they
deserved execution, wouldn't you say?"

"I'm sure the comrade knows better
than I."

" You're being a diplomat, Lukin.
You disappoint me. I prefer directness."

Beria snapped his fingers at the colonel
opposite. "The file, Romulka."

The colonel stepped forward and handed
over the file. Beria flicked it open idly.

"I've been reading your background,
Lukin. An interesting story, Of a once renowned officer who fell from
grace." He grinned crookedly and glanced at Lukin's hand. "Were it
not for your little error in '44, doubtless you'd be a full colonel.by now and
still have your hand."

Lukin said uncomfortably, "I presume
there is a reason for my visit here, Comrade Beria?"

"I haven't finished. By all accounts
you were one of the best counter-intelligence officers we had during the war.
You had a particular talent for hunting down enemy agents the Germans slipped
into our territory."

"That was a long time ago, Comrade Beria."

"Not that long ago, I think.
Besides, some talents we are born with. Tell me, I heard all the best people in
your department, the ones who tracked down German enemy agents, were orphans.
Is that true, Lukin?"

"I couldn't say, comrade.,'

"But an odd fact, I'm sure? No doubt
the psychologists might make something of it. A passion for seeking and
finding, as if such people had a thirst to discover their own truth. But you,
Lukin, stood head and shoulders above them."

"Those days are behind me, Comrade Beria.
The war's over and now I'm just a simple policeman. Such matters don't concern
me.

"Don't demean your position, Lukin.
You're far from simple and the KGB doesn't recruit fools."

"I meant ..."

"Forget what you meant," Beria
said abruptly, and sat back. "What if I told you there was a threat to our
glorious Comrade Stalin's life? Would that concern you?"

Lukin stared at Beria, then at the
colonel opposite. When Lukin looked back he said, "I'm not sure I
understand."

Beria gestured to the KGB colonel. "This
is Colonel Romulka, one of my personal staff. Tell Lukin the present
situation."

Romulka stood with his hands behind his
back, his chest pouting.

"Two hours ago one of our Mig
fighters on patrol in the Gulf of Finland disappeared from radar control in
Tallinn. We believe the pilot had detected an intruder in Soviet airspace. We
sent three other Migs to the vectors where the aircraft disappeared. An hour
ago the wreckage of the missing Mig was spotted in the ice in the Baltic Sea.
There also appears to be the wreckage of a light aircraft it collided with. A
special foot patrol is on its way across the ice to examine the crash
site."

Beria looked back at Lukin. "Not
terribly interesting, you might say. However, according to our intelligence
sources, the Americans intended infiltrating two agents, a man and a woman,
into Moscow with the purpose of killing Comrade Stalin. We believe a parachute
drop of these people may already have taken place near Taflinn and the light
aircraft was their transport. Despite the errors in your past, certain senior
officers still speak highly of your talents, Lukin. I want you to find the man
and woman and bring them to me, preferably alive."

Lukin looked stunned. "I don't
understand."

"It's simple, Lukin. I'm going to
give you a chance to redeem yourself. As of this moment you're in charge of
this case, on my direct orders."

Beria handed a file across. "Take
that and study it. Inside you'll find everything we have on the woman and man
we believe the Americans have sent. The man in particular should prove a
particularly interesting quarry. Besides, I think you and he have certain, let
us say, characteristics in common. Age, for one. And intelligence and ability,
I imagine. You may both be suitably matched. Wasn't that a device your people
sometimes used during the war? Pick a man with similar attributes to his enemy
to hunt him down and kill him? Some quack psychologist's suggestion, no doubt,
but surprisingly I believe it sometimes worked."

"This man and woman, who are
they?"

"It's all in the file, as much as we
know, including how we surmised the Americans' intentions. There are
photographs, which should be of some help. The man will prove a capable
adversary, I believe, so be careful, Lukin. And another thing. You will have absolute
authority to do as you see fit to apprehend these criminals."

Beria produced a letter from his pocket
and handed it across with a flourish.

Lukin read the letter and Beria said,
"Should anyone doubt your authority, that states you are working directly
for me and all assistance demanded by you will be given without question. You
report to me personally. Choose any personnel you need from among your own
staff. Colonel Romulka here will act as my personal representative in the case.
He's of superior rank but you will be in command. Needless to say, Romulka will
give you any assistance you require. You look shocked, Lukin."

"I don't know what to say,
comrade."

"Then say nothing. A Mig is standing
by at Vnukovo to fly you to Tallinn as soon as the weather clears. The local
KGB and military have already mounted patrols to find the couple and will be
expecting you. Local commanders have been informed of the hunt for these
people, but obviously not their mission's intention, for now that remains
classified. Colonel Romulka will join you later. If there are any further
developments, the duty officer will contact your office."

Beria snapped his fingers and Romulka
crossed to the projector and switched it on. Then Beria looked back, his eyes
flashing dark and dangerous, as a threatening look clouded his features.

"These are high stakes, Lukin. So
don't fail me. I'd hate to think of you up on this screen some day in front of
a firing squad. Find the man and woman. Find them and bring them to me. The
moment you do, Stalin himself has promised to make you a full colonel. Fail me
and I will be unforgiving. You have your orders. You are excused."

Beria waved a hand dismissively and
poured himself more champagne. Moments later Romulka pressed a switch and the
room plunged into darkness, before the screen flickered to life seconds later.

Romulka came back and led Lukin out.

At the door, something made Lukin glance
back. The film on the screen was in black and white, with no sound, just the clicking
of the projector reel as a series of disturbing, vivid images appeared. What
Lukin saw made his blood run cold.

A naked girl was tied down on a long
metal table. She was dark-haired and very young. Her arms and legs were splayed
wide apart with leather straps and her eyes were wide open in horror. Froth
spewed from her mouth, as if she were having a fit. She squirmed wildly,
helplessly, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her head bounced off the metal
table as she tried in vain to free herself.

A man came into the picture. He wore a
thick rubber apron over his KGB uniform. His fingers probed roughly between the
girl's legs and then he began inserting a thick electric probe into her vagina,
a long wire flex attached to the probe Lukin saw the look of pained horror on
the child's face and turned away in disbelief, in disgust, unable to bear
watching the film a second more, as Beria sat there, sipping his champagne,
looking at the screen.

Romulka grinned as he pulled on a black
leather glove. "What's the matter, Lukin? Can't stand seeing a woman
tortured?" He flicked a look at Lukin's hand. "No wonder that German
bitch disfigured you. I would have shot her between the eyes."

Romulka slapped the other leather glove
into his hand and went out grinning. Lukin waited a moment, then followed,
wanting to be sick.

Half an hour later Lukin Was Smoking a
cigarette and reading through the file Beria had given him when Pasha entered.

The Mongolian lieutenant brushed snow
from his overcoat. "It's really coming down out there. So what the fuck's
up that you get me out of bed at one A.M.?" He stared over at Lukin.
"Hey, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not exactly, but something just as
shocking. First things first. Have you any of that Siberian vodka of
yours?"

Pasha grinned. "I always keep an
emergency supply, just in case I start to sober up. But be warned, it's like
sticking a lighted candle down your throat."

"Pour me one."

"On duty? It's not like you. I'm
surprised, Major."

"Not half as surprised as you're
going to be."

Pasha locked the office door and took a
bottle and two glasses from his desk. He handed one to Lukin and poured.

"Chase the devil away and put a
little sunshine in your stomach. Za zdorovye. So what's up?"

Lukin swallowed. "Keep the toast for
another time. You're on a case with me."

:"Who says so?"

"I do. I've just had the dubious
pleasure of being summoned to the Kremlin."

Pasha frowned, his eyes thin slits in his
yellow face. "Are you serious?"

" A visit to the Kremlin is not
something I'd joke about, Pasha."

"What was the occasion?"

Lukin told him everything, then gave him
the file. Pasha read it, whistled softly and crossed to his desk. He threw off
his overcoat and put his feet up, taking a sip of the vodka.