‘He did, eh? Well, they think a bit slow, you know, these natives, but they’re very crafty. I guess he’d have skipped, even without this inquiry. Still, it must have worried him, being called in. You say he was just irritated?’
‘Well. He cursed.’
‘He cursed,’ the lieutenant told the sergeant. ‘And what then? He asked questions?’
‘He asked what I thought it was about. I said it was a routine check of his papers.’
‘Did he want you to find out more?’
‘Well, I called the office for any messages.’
‘Did he ask you to do that?’
She thought. ‘Maybe. I’d have done it, anyway.’
‘How many times did he ask?’
‘Oh now, Lieutenant, I don’t know how many times.’
The Lieutenant had leaned over and was turning back a page of the sergeant’s book.
‘You called in at two o’clock,’ he said. ‘And again at five past three. Did he ask you both those times?’
‘Lieutenant, I’ve got a splitting headache, and I can’t remember what he asked me or how many times.’
‘I’m sorry, Medical Officer. But with these natives — if a problem isn’t so serious, they’ll wait for it to happen. I’m wondering how serious he thought it was … This last time, now, you must have been pretty near Tchersky, and he’s driving you in. He knows he’s on false papers and will have to produce them … Didn’t he seem nervous at all?’
‘Well … not that I could tell. He just drove into the yard and went in to get the packers, and helped unload the van. Then he came out and asked if there was anything else I wanted, and I said no, and he went.’
‘Where?’
‘Out of the yard, I suppose.’
‘And left his bobik standing there?’
‘What would he want with the bobik? The militia station is almost next door.’
‘He didn’t go to it. Where the devil could he have gone on foot?’
‘Look, Lieutenant, I’m tired. Probably he’s drinking somewhere now, wondering what to do.’
The lieutenant nodded. ‘He’ll be in Tchersky, anyway. He won’t have walked four kilometres to Green Cape. He could have hitched a lift, of course … Still, thanks for your help. If he calls in — which he might, when he’s had a few — find out where he is and calm him down. Let us know.’
‘All right.’
She waited till the noise of the car had receded and went and opened the cellar door.
This was Friday night.
They left at nine o’clock when traffic had ceased and it was silent outside. He was certain that a house-to-house search would begin and knew he had to be off immediately.
She had three ten-litre jerricans of petrol in the shed. These he put in the back of the bobik, with a small extra one of kerosene for the stove. He packed some clothing in a grip, took a sleeping-bag and food, and the remainder of a bottle of vodka.
The route to Anyuysk she knew, and he stayed under a blanket in the back while she drove. But once they were off the river and on to the made track he took over the wheel.
The dark was intense and in the featureless country the headlights showed no sign of the turnoff to Provodnoye. He had clocked it at nine kilometres, and at the eighth he slowed so that she would see. Next time she would be doing it on her own.
They made the tributary, and he took the bends slowly so that she would know them. From the entry, fifty-five kilometres to the cave; this too he had clocked, and she had to remember.
The overhanging willow came on a sharp bend — the bend where spring floods had eroded the cave in the first place — and if not spotted at once it could be missed while negotiating the bend.
At fifty-four kilometres he slowed again, and she made it out for herself.
He turned the nose of the bobik into the cave. The tarpaulin had been left hanging, and it draped over the windscreen. They got out and in the headlights she saw the place for the first time: all as he had left it, last weekend, when he had turned up at the house at five in the morning.
His own spirits sank as he took in the skeleton of the car. It was more of a mess than he remembered. He started the generator and backed the bobik and parked it and switched the lights off. They began unloading in the dark and he took the jerricans.
In the naked lights the cave was exceedingly dismal, the walls gleaming with ice, the bare chassis strewn with half-fitted parts. She came in with the food and bedding, and looked around.
‘Oh, my darling — you’ll freeze here!’
‘I’ll survive.’ He lit the stove and examined the tarpaulin at the entrance, frowning.
Then he went outside, and came in again.
‘The light shows. There’s a glow,’ he said. ‘Anything changing down at the bend would see it … With the generator going I’d never hear what’s coming.’
‘What should be coming here?’
‘Trucks could be running regularly to Provodnoye now. I’ll have to put the blanket up as well.’
‘All right, I’ll bring another.’ I’ll put it on the list.’
The list was growing. He already had four jerricans of petrol stacked in the cave. Her three made it seven; and he now calculated he needed at least three more. He also needed a map and a compass and extra batteries for the torch, and more provisions.
‘Okay, don’t wait now,’ he said. It would take her at least two and a half hours getting back, and it was now almost midnight. Tomorrow she had to let her Yakut cleaning woman in; she would put in only an hour or two at the medical centre, and then go out to the stores. ‘Have you remembered the turnoffs?’
She had remembered them: nine kilometres off the Anyuysk road for the tributary, fifty-five more to the cave.
‘Okay. Tomorrow night. Be very careful,’ he said.
‘Oh, Johnny!’
‘Kolya! Only that!’ he said, removing her arms. ‘And no goodbyes, just go. Tanya-Panya.’
He waited outside while she turned the bobik, and watched the rear lights recede, and went back in. Now, on his own, it looted starker than ever. To turn this mess into a car! But he would have to turn it into one, and by the time she returned. Whatever state it was in, he’d start the engine when she appeared, anyway; it would give them both a boost. But then he realised he couldn’t start the engine. The last item taken from Vassili was still in the shed at the house. The car battery was there, charging. He had hidden it under a sack, and it was not on the list, and his stomach turned to lead.
48
With the December solstice so close there was now no daylight at all.
A little after one in the afternoon the sky greyed faintly for an hour as the sun rose and set below the horizon, but this was only when there was no overcast. For some days before and after the blizzard there had been heavy overcast, perpetual night. Despite this, normal hours were kept in the region, and he took account of this in figuring when trucks could pass.
He was midway between Green Cape and Provodnoye.
From either point it would take the heavy vehicles three hours to the cave. From Green Cape they would leave at eight in the morning, so around eleven they could be outside. By then his lights had to be off. Even with the blanket a faint glow was noticeable in the dark. He couldn’t tell when they would return from Provodnoye — but it was unlikely to be the same day. He himself had stayed overnight and returned in the morning.
Eleven in the morning was the time, both coming and going. The generator had to be off then.
He would grab three hours’ rest, from ten o’clock to one; all lights out.