Snow Wolf (58 page)

Pasha shrugged and left. The telephone
rang and Lukin picked it up.

"Lukin."

"Yuri?" Nadia's voice. "Is
everything all right?"

Right now Lukin felt he wanted to lie in
his wife's arms at sleep, drain the exhaustion from his body. He had been awake
three days. Three days that seemed like hours to him, but must have seemed like
weeks to Nadia because he hadn't contacted her.

"Yes, everything's fine, my
love."

"I called yesterday. They wouldn't
tell me anything. Whel you were or when you'd be coming home."

"The case I'm working on, it's
taking longer than I thought How are you?"

"Missing you. Come home tonight for
dinner. I know y(

when you're like this. You get so
involved. Please, Yuri. It'll help you relax."

"I can't say, Nadia. You'd better
not expect me."

The line was silent for a long time.
"I love you, Yuri."

"I love you too."

Then it clicked dead.

It was almost two o'clock when Lukin
drove through the main gates of the Kremlin and parked in the Armory courtyard.

Five minutes later he was ushered into
Beria's sumptuous office on the third floor by a Guards captain. There were
silk tapestries on the walls and Bolchara rugs scattered on the floor and the
furniture was expensive Finnish oak. Beria sat behind his desk and he looked up
from some papers as Lukin entered.

"Major, sit down."

Lukin pulled back a chair.

Beria looked over. "I believe
congratulations of a sort are in order."

"Thank you, comrade."

Beria reached over to a cigar box on the
desk and selected one. He frowned. "But you let the man slip from your
grasp. Not good at all. You disappoint me, Lukin. Has the woman talked?"

"Not yet, comrade."

Beria's eyebrows rose as he lit the
cigar. "But you interrogated her?"

"This morning."

"Considering the seriousness of the
matter I thought even some slight progress would have been made by now. In the
old days we used to be able to break women within hours. They're much more
susceptible to torture, especially the threat of rape."

Lukin suppressed an urge to look away in
disgust. "It will take a little time. She was injured, as my report
explains-"

"I read the report," Beria
interrupted sharply. "You failed to capture the American not once, not
twice, but three times. I expected more from you, Lukin."

"I can assure you I'll find him,
Comrade Beria."

"To do that you must have some idea
where he is. Do you?"

Lukin hesitated. "I believe he's
still in the forest area, hiding out. In that kind of weather and terrain he
can't have gone far. There are over a thousand men searching the area as we
speak. I've also alerted regional KGB commanders and requested roadblocks be
set up on all major and minor roads in the area.

All public and private transport will be
searched. It's only a matter of time before the Wolf turns up, dead or
alive."

"I hope that's so, Lukin. For your
sake." Beria fingered a pen on his desk, the slim fingers playing with it
a moment, then he said, "But so far you haven't exactly inspired
confidence. Perhaps I should interrogate the woman myself? I think it's time to
take off the gloves, don't you? A little violence to soften her. I know you
think it's easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar, but you see, we old
hands do have a way in these matters."

Lukin looked at him. He could see the
gleam in Beria's eye as a grin played on his face. The images Lukin had seen on
the screen flashed before his mind and he felt sick.

"With respect, I don't believe
simple torture is going to work in her case. I don't believe she'll respond to
it. I need just a little time to gain her trust and confidence. The best way to
do that is to deal with her alone. Just me and her.

"But will she talk then?"

"I believe so."

Beria toyed with his pen, as if trying to
decide. He sighed. "Very well. We play it your way for now. I'll give you
forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours to make her talk and to find the man.
After that, if you haven't succeeded, you hand her over to me and Romulka will
deal with her and take over the case. You're dismissed. That is all."

When Lukin hesitated, Beria stared at
him. "What's the matter, Lukin? Is there something on your mind?"

"I have a request to make."

"And what request is that?"

"I couldn't fail to notice there
were two pages missing from the Wolf's file. I'm certain Comrade Beria had good
reason not to include those pages in my copy. However, it strikes me that all
information concerning the Wolf should be made available to me. It may help me
apprehend him."

Beria half smiled. "You're quite
right about the pages, Lukin. But you already had the chance to catch the Wolf
and failed, three times, without the supposed benefit of the pages you speak
of. But believe me, you have all the information relevant to your mission. Your
request is denied. You may leave."

Lukin stood and walked to the door.

"Lukin ..."

He turned back. The black piggish eyes
stared at him.

' "I believe you and Romulka had a
slight disagreement yesterday. Try to remember, you're working together, not as
adversaries. See that it doesn't happen again. And something else you should
know about. Romulka is bringing the Frenchman, Lebel, to Moscow, arriving this
afternoon. I think it best that Romulka deal with him alone. He's much more
experienced in these matters." He paused and puffed on his cigar.
"Forty-eight hours. Not a second more. Don't fail me, Lukin."

Moscow.

February 28th, 8:30 A.M. The underground
train thundered into the Kiev Station with the sound of a thousand pounding
hammers and squealed to a halt. As the doors rolled open, Stanski stepped out
onto the platform.

Like most of Moscow's Metro stations, the
Kiev was an absurdly ornate construction; an underground palace of glittering
chandeliers and marble walls, decorated with bronze reliefs and red flags
hanging from the ceiling.

The station was packed with early morning
commuters and the air reeked of stale food and tobacco and sweating bodies. As
Stanski stood there trying to get his bearings, he felt a tap on his shoulder
and spun around.

A young Tartar wearing a blue militia
overcoat over his uniform stood there. He held a cigarette in his hand as his
slanted eyes stared at Stanski. "You have a light, comrade?"

Stanski hesitated, then shook his head.
"Niet."

The Tartar grumbled and moved away into
the crowd.

The militiaman had startled him. He stood
there for several moments, sweating, trying to regain his composure as people
swarmed past. He was on unfamiliar territory and the noise and the crowds made
him feel uneasy. He saw the steep escalators at either end of the platform and
took one to the top.

There was no letup in the crowds when he
reached ground Lebel. The station entrance hall teemed with milling bodies. He
saw a number of military uniforms in the crowd, mostly army officers carrying
briefcases as they hurried briskly to and fro, but they paid him no attention.

There was a public toilet across the hall
and he went inside. The place was filthy and stank to heaven but there was a
wash basin and a cracked mirror on the wall. He looked at his face.

It was a mess.

His eyes were red and swollen from lack
of sleep. Disheveled and unshaven and covered in grime, he still wore the coat
Viadimir had given him. But he had abandoned the motorbike in a remote wood
outside the suburb of Tatarovo, buried Anna's and his own suitcase and the
helmet and goggles a distance away, using his hands to dig in the hard-packed
snow. He had worn the extra clothes to keep out the cold on the motorbike and
now the garments stuck to him with sweat. He had walked a kilometer to the
nearest train station at Tatarovo before transferring to the Metro. He ached
for sleep. He had been driving for almost fifteen solid hours through forest
and on minor roads, having to avoid at least half a dozen checkpoints in the
first two hours alone.

As he ran the water he thought: I look
terrible.

The fear of what might have happened to
Anna had left him depressed and he tried desperately to keep the black mood
from crowding in on him. But it refused to go away. Was she still alive? Had
Lukin caught her? He hoped for her sake she had bitten the pill, even though
that thought made him more despondent, but he remembered looking back at the
last moment, recognizing Lukin, and seeing him lunge at her. Somehow the major
had survived the helicopter crash. How, it didn't matter. All that mattered was
that the man was alive and determined to catch them.

If Anna was alive, he dreaded to think
what Lukin might do to her, and suddenly a terrible surge of hate flooded him.
He wanted to kill Major Lukin. Kill him with a vengeance.

The door to the toilet opened. A sergeant
in army uniform came in and began to use the urinal. After a few moments the
man glanced over idly.

Stanski finished washing himself and
stepped out into the station hall again. He glanced back but the sergeant
hadn't followed him. He noticed a number of militia and army personnel moving
through the crowd, but none of them seemed remotely interested.

He left the station quickly and walked
two blocks to sky Prospect, the charge of people and traffic in the morning
hour were almost overwhelming.

It took him almost ten minutes to find
the right bus stop on the Prospect and he looked behind him before he climbed
on board, but saw no one watching or following him.

The sign above the wrought-iron gates
said "State Orphanage Number 57. District of Saburovo."

Lukin showed his pass to the attendant in
the lodge and drove the BMW in through the gates. Pasha sat beside him in the
car. He looked uncomfortable.

"You mind going in alone, Yuri?
These places always give me the creeps."

"Me too. But as you wish."

When Lukin halted outside the grim
four-story red-brick building and climbed out, he saw the massive front doors
open. A middle-aged woman wearing a white doctor's coat came slowly down the
steps. Her face was a picture of stern authority and her cold eyes studied him before
she held out a limp hand.

"Major Lukin, I presume? I'm the
orphanage matron."

Lukin ignored the woman's hand and showed
her his ID. Her hard stare registered the affront and she inspected his ID card
closely before she looked back at him.

"I must say the request your comrade
lieutenant made was most unusual. No doubt you have the written authority I
require?"

"I think that ought to cover
everything."

Lukin handed her the signed letter from
Beria. The woman's tone changed immediately.

:"Why ... of course, Comrade
Major."

"My time is rather limited. The
child, if you please."

"Follow me."

The matron went back up the steps, opened
one of the massive doors and stepped inside. A smell of carbolic soap and stale
food wafted out of the building.

As Lukin went to follow the matron up the
steps, some instinct made him look up.

At a window on the second floor, two
scrawny-faced young boys stared down wide-eyed at the green BMW with Pasha
sitting inside. Their faces had the look of caged and frightened animals. When
they saw Lukin notice them they vanished from the window.

Lukin felt a shiver down his spine as he
followed the matron inside.

The dacha was in the Ramenki district,
eight kilometers from Moscow.

Stanski got off the bus two stops early
and walked the last five minutes down a secluded birch-lined road until he
found the address.

The wooden house was big, two-story and
painted green. It was set in its own large grounds surrounded by tall birch
trees. There were several other dachas nearby, lining either side of the road,
but judging by the shuttered windows they were deserted.

A narrow pathway led up to the dacha and
there was a large woodshed off to the right toward the back.

He watched the place for five minutes,
walking up and down the empty street. Because of everything that had happened
he was two days early, and he wondered if the woman was home. The shutters were
open but he saw no movement behind the curtained windows. He decided to risk
knocking on the front door.

He walked up the pathway and knocked
hard. Moments later the door opened and a woman appeared. He recognized her
from Massey's description.

She looked at him cautiously.
"Yes?"

"Madame Dezov?"

"Yes?"

"I'm a friend of Henri's. You were
expecting me."