Snow Wolf (63 page)

The woman appeared almost at once. It was
the same woman he had seen go up the path. Red-haired, pretty. She had removed
her coat and wore a dress and cardigan and a kitchen apron. When she opened the
door she frowned slightly at the sight of the uniform, but when Stanski smiled
she smiled back and wiped her hands on her- apron.

"Yes?"

Stanski glanced over her shoulder. The
narrow hallway behind her looked empty.

"Madame Lukin? Nadia Lukin?"

"Yes."

At that moment Stanski pushed in the door
and lunged at the woman.

As she started to scream his hand went
over her mouth and he kicked the door shut behind him.

Lukin was standing at the office window
shortly before noon, smoking a cigarette, when he saw the gates in the
courtyard below swing open and two Zil trucks drive in and brake to a halt on
the cobbles. Plain-clothes KGB men and uniformed militia jumped down and began
to force a crowd of civilian prisoners from the trucks, beating them with rifle
butts.

As he stood watching there was a knock on
the door. "Enter."

Pasha came in, his eyes bloodshot from
lack of sleep. "I thought I'd see how the men were making out with the
city hotels."

"Any luck?"

"They've covered half on the list
but nothing so far."

Lukin nodded down into the courtyard as
the trucks disgorged their cargo. "What's going on down there?"

Pasha came to the window and looked down.
"More work for the bully boys in the cellars, by the look of it. They're
the people on the dissident lists being brought in for questioning. The rest
are still being rounded up. The interrogation teams will let us know if
anything turns up. We should have everyone on the lists covered by tonight. The
men are working flat out."

Lukin sighed and nodded. "Hardly
quick enough. OK, keep checking the hotels. When you're finished, I want you to
have the men check all the cooperative guest houses to within a
twenty-kilometer radius of Moscow."

"Yuri, there must be hundreds
..."

"And I want them checked, Pasha. All
of them. And another thing ..."

Lukin nodded down at the, courtyard.
"Tell whoever's in charge below to go easy on the prisoners. They're
citizens, not cattle for the slaughter."

"As you say." Pasha nodded and
left.

Lukin looked at his watch. Another twelve
hours and Anna Khoiev's time was up. If she didn't talk soon, he'd have to
deliver her to Beria and face him himself. He'd have to try to interrogate her
again. The door burst open without a knock.

Romulka stood there smiling. "I
thought I'd find you here. Well, Lukin, any progress,?"

"Not as yet. What do you want?"

"Just a friendly chat."

"The prisoner, Lebel, where is
he?"

"Odd, but that's what I came to see
you about. Right now he's in one of the cellars being softened up."

"I told you to be careful, Romulka.
The man has connections. I want to see him."

Romulka shook his head. "I'm afraid
not, Lukin. The Frenchman is mine. And Beria will tell you that if you care to
ask."

"As officer in charge I demand
it."

Romulka stepped closer and tapped the
riding crop in his palm. "Demand all you like. of course, we could always
come to an agreement. Let me interrogate the woman and you get access to Lebel
in return."

"Go to hell."

Romulka grinned. "A pity. I would
have enjoyed a little fun with her. Still, another twelve hours and she'll be
mine."

"You're the lowest form of life,
Romulka."

"A matter of opinion, surely? Think
about the offer, Lukin. And remember, it's not my life at stake, it's
yours."

With that he went out of the door. Lukin
returned to the window and bit back his anger.

He heard more vehicles entering the
courtyard. Another two Zil trucks pulled up and this time a couple of
militiamen tied back the canvas flaps and jumped down. As they unslung their
rifles, a group of frightened-looking men and women prisoners began too climb
out of the trucks@ One of the women fell to her knees and a militiaman struck
her across the face with his rifle.

As Lukin went to turn away in
frustration, he saw Pasha cross the courtyard and have words with the sergeant
in charge.

So many people were going to suffer
unnecessarily because of the Wolf. Many would end up in prison or the Gulags.
Some would die.

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He
had slept badly last night, tossed and turned for four hours, and his mood had
upset Nadia. He wanted to forget he had ever become part of this nightmare. But
he had to get the woman to talk.

As he reached for his cap, the telephone
jangled. He picked it up.

A man's voice said, "Major
Lukin?"

"Yes, this is Lukin." There was
a pause, then the voice said, "Major, we need to talk."

Lukin saw the white plaster walls of
Novodevichy Convent in the wash of the BMW's headlights. As he swung around
onto the entrance road and braked to a halt, his heart was pounding in his
chest.

He switched off the engine, doused the
lights, and stepped out.

The gilded onion domes of the deserted
convent rose up into the twilight. A frozen river lay at the rear and he walked
down toward it. Blood hammered in his temples and his body was drenched in
perspiration.

When he reached the river he found the
bench near the edge of the bank and sat. There was a small birch wood behind
him and he peered anxiously over his shoulder but saw nothing except the dark
outline of trees and bushes.

His mind was on fire.

"Novodevichy Convent," the note
said. "Be at the east wall, the second bench by the river at three
o'clock. Come alone and unarmed or you don't see your wife alive again."

No signature on the note but he had no
doubt it was Stanski. It was almost three o'clock now and darkness was falling.
Two minutes after the call to his office, Lukin had driven frantically to his
apartment.

The man's voice on the telephone had
said, "We need to talk."

"Who is this?"

"An acquaintance of yours from
Tallinn, Major Lukin. I've left a message for you at your home."

And then the line clicked dead.

At first Lukin had been confused, and
then a terrible realization dawned and he felt an icy chill go through him-it
was Stanski, it had to be. He felt a surge of fear and cold rage. No. It wasn't
possible!

Nadia.

If Stanski had harmed Nadia ... He had
left the office in a daze. Ten minutes later he was bounding up the steps to
his apartment. When he unlocked the door there was a pungent smell in the
hallway. A handkerchief lay tossed on the floor, a small brown bottle beside
it.

He called out Nadia's name and when he
got no answer he felt his stomach sink.

He picked up the handkerchief and moved
into the rooms. A flowerpot and stand had been knocked over. There had been a
struggle here, Lukin was in no doubt. He was shaking with rage and fear,
consumed with worry for Nadia. God, don't let her be harmed.

He put the handkerchief to his nose and
sniffed the pungent smell.

Ether.

He checked the bedroom--empty-then moved
into the kitchen. He saw the note on the table. He read it and turned even
paler, and his body shook. He raced back down the stairs to look for the block
janitor. He found him in the boiler room, drinking vodka.

Yes, a man had called, early that
morning. Tall, blond, smiled a lot. Said he knew you. friend from the war, he
said. When Your wife wasn't here he said he wanted to call back and surprise
her. Why? Is everything all right, Major Lukin? You,look pale, Major
Lukin."

Lukin had looked at the old man
distractedly and lied. "Yes ... yes, fine. Thank you. I imagine they've
gone somewhere together."

He went back upstairs and sat at the
kitchen table for almost an hour, wondering what to do next.

Nothing.

He could do nothing until he met Stanski.

He felt a livid urge to kill the man. If
he harmed a hair on Nadia's head he'd tear him apart.

What if she had been hurt? What if
Stanski had injured her?

God ... let her be safe. She's all I
have.

And then another thought: how had Stanski
known where he lived? Had he been watching him? Had he simply found his address
from the city telephone directory? Lukin was too confused to think straight. He
left the question aside. All that mattered was Nadia's safety.

He imagined Nadia hurt, Nadia ill, Nadia
frightened and locked up somewhere, and he almost drove himself insane with
worry.

He had to stop it. He went into the
bathroom, splashed icy water on his face. The mood wouldn't go away. God, he
wanted to destroy Stanski.

Why had Nadia been taken?

Why?

And then he understood.

Stanski wanted to trade. Nadia for Anna
Khorev.

It was so obvious that in his turmoil he
hadn't seen it.

But that would be impossible.

It was two hours later when Lukin left
the apartment. Stanski had chosen his meeting place well. Novodevichy Convent
was deserted, the nuns long ago shot or deported to the penal camps.

And as Lukin sat by the frozen river, he
tried hard to control himself. Would the Wolf come himself or send someone'?

He heard the rustle behind him and
turned.

A man stepped out of the shadows. He wore
a long dark overcoat and his face was visible in the twilight. Stanski. He held
a Tokarev pistol in his right hand.

Rage erupted inside Lukin. He felt an
overpowering urge to rush Stanski and wrench the gun from his hand.

"Where's my wife?"

"Stay where you are. Don't move and
don't talk."

Stanski reached over and his free hand
searched Lukin's body.

Lukin said, "I'm unarmed."

"Shut up."

When Stanski finished he stepped back.
Lukin said again, "My wife, where is she?"

"She's safe. For now. But her safety
really depends on you."

"What do you want?"

"I want Anna Khorev. And I want her
tonight."

LUKIN felt sweat drip down his back. He
shook his head. "That's impossible. I can't release her, I don't have the
authority. You must know that."

"Don't lie to me, Lukin. You can do
anything you want."

"I couldn't release her without
permission. It's impossible."

"Impossible or not, you bring her
here tonight. Eight o'clock. Just you and her. You tell no one what you're
doing. My people will be watching you every step of the way. Just like we
watched you taking her into the Lubionika this afternoon. And these are the
rules-you fail me, or try anything foolish, you won't see your wife again. Is
that understood?"

Lukin was numb with shock. Stanski had
him watched. In the middle of Moscow this American had him watched. He felt the
anger flare inside him and clenched his teeth.

"I have a condition."

"No conditions."

"You bring my wife here tonight. I
get her back when I hand over the prisoner. You agree or I don't bring the
girl."

"I'll think about it."

Lukin shook his head. "No, no
thinking. You agree or you don't. I don't trust YOU."

"Very well. But remember the rules.
You do anything foolish, you get no second chances."

"And you understand. When this is
over, I'm going to find you and I'm going to kill you."

Stanski grinned. "But you'll have to
catch me first." He pointed the Tokarev in Lukin's face. "Close your
eyes, tightly. Count to twenty. Nice and slow."

Lukin shut his eyes. Silence. Cold. But
not feeling the icy air; his anger boiling, like a furnace inside his head. A
win@ whistled through branches.

He counted to twenty.

When he snapped open his eyes the Wolf
was gone.

The Lenin Hills were covered in a patina
of white as Lukin parked the BMW on the rise of a hill and climbed out. He ran
the rest of the way to the top of the hill.

In the valley below, Moscow was a million
winking lights. When he reached the top he knelt, panting, in the snow. His
body shook. So close to Stanski. So close and he couldn't kill him. He felt he
was losing his grip, his mind throbbing with confusion as the image of Nadia
raged through it.

He felt hopelessly lost.

The Wolf was clever. Very, very clever.

He smashed his fist into the snow. He
wanted to scream but closed his eyes instead, opened them again, blinked
several times.