“I see,” Korolev said and wished he didn’t.
“The ends sometimes justify the means, Korolev.”
“I understand that, Comrade Colonel-of course I do.”
Rodinov’s gaze felt like it was looking inside Korolev’s very skull, peering into every nook and cranny of his mind. It made him nervous, that gaze.
“Telepathy?” Korolev said-picking out, much to his own surprise, the word he’d decided was most worrying in the colonel’s description of the institute’s activities. After all, if men like Rodinov were able to read men’s thoughts then-well-the world would be a lot less safe.
“You know what it is?”
“I’ve heard of it,” Korolev said, recovering. “I understood it wasn’t possible.”
“It would make my job much easier if it were,” Rodinov said. “But I don’t think anything came of it-or at least, that’s my understanding.”
The colonel paused, put his pen down on the table, and seemed to consider what he should say next.
“You see, if my department were to directly investigate this matter,” he said finally, choosing his words carefully, it seemed to Korolev, “it might be difficult. People would begin to take sides. There would be different versions of the truth-there always are. And, as you of all people should know, truth can be manipulated to suit certain agendas-and hidden if it suits certain persons. In other words the case would become a political matter-and, as a result, whatever truth would finally be chosen would be based on politics. With you looking into it, there’s a chance things may be a little different. Korolev, let’s be clear-I want to know who killed these men and I want to know why. But I also want to know what was going on at this institute-and it occurs to me that while you’re investigating this murder, you may uncover things that could be of interest to me.”
He looked at Korolev expectantly and Korolev frowned. Was Rodinov really suggesting what he thought he might be?
“Comrade Colonel, forgive me, but are you asking me to spy on a department of the NKVD?”
The colonel smiled.
“Of course not, Korolev. You misunderstand me. I want you to keep your ears and eyes open-no more than that. You’re under my orders, so you should be safe enough if that’s what you’re worried about. Safer than if you don’t do what I suggest, let’s put it that way.”
When the colonel put it like that, of course, everything became clearer for Korolev-he took a deep breath.
“I’m always ready to do my duty, Comrade Colonel, as I said.”
“Good.”
“And the evidence we gathered?”
“Will be made available to you. This will be an ordinary investigation, to all intents and purposes, but without involving the procurator’s office. You’ll have the same team assigned to you as before, along with Lieutenant Dubinkin, who works for me. He’ll assist you and your colleagues in getting hold of any information that might otherwise prove difficult to obtain. You shouldn’t have any problems, however-as you’ve seen, this investigation and your involvement have been authorized at the highest levels. Comrade Ezhov remembers you, you’ll be pleased to hear, and retains a high opinion of you.”
Korolev nodded, not at all pleased that the People’s Commissar for Internal Affairs was even aware of his existence. Something in his expression must have amused Rodinov because the brief smile that crossed his face appeared genuine enough.
“So high an opinion,” Rodinov went on, “that he even wondered whether your temporary assignment to the NKVD shouldn’t be made permanent.”
Korolev’s immediate reaction must have shown because Rodinov laughed.
“Don’t worry, Korolev. I can think of few people less suited to the kind of work we generally do. And that’s not to speak ill of you. No, Korolev, you’re an excellent Militia detective-it’s just we’re specialists in our field; and you don’t use a hammer to cut wood, or a saw to hammer nails-that’s all there is to it.”
Korolev did his best to keep his relief to himself.
“Very good,” Rodinov said, picking up a piece of paper from the desk. “Dubinkin will meet you at Shtange’s apartment at eight o’clock. This is the address. I’ll expect daily reports. You may go.”
Korolev stood and walked toward the door. He was just about to open it when the colonel interrupted him.
“Korolev, just so you’re aware-those weren’t my department’s men who came for you this evening. And they weren’t my orders either. I think you’ve met Colonel Zaitsev-it seems he wanted to meet you again. Luckily for you, I took the matter over before he did.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Korolev was able to persuade the garage at Petrovka to send a car to the Militia post across the square and occupied himself during the time it took to arrive by calling Yasimov. His old friend looked grim-faced when he pulled up outside his building not fifteen minutes later.
“This better be important-I’ve had half the kommunalka threatening to kill me over you disturbing their sleep with your phone call,” Yasimov said, opening the car door. His eyes widened when he saw the state Korolev was in.
“A long story,” Korolev said, “and not all of which I can tell you.”
But he told him what he could-and the fact that Yuri was alone somewhere out near Babel’s summer house and how he was back on the Azarov case. Yasimov didn’t ask any questions, only nodded.
“We’ll find him-don’t worry.”
* * *
Korolev drove as if the devil himself were snapping at the rear bumper of the Packard. He threw the heavy car round one corner so hard that its chassis rose onto two wheels, teetering for a moment on the point of turning over before it crashed back down.
“Lyoshka,” Yasimov said. “We’ll never get there if we’re dead.”
Korolev took his point and slowed to a more reasonable speed-but even so, he barely lifted his foot from the accelerator the whole journey. By the time he’d reached Peredelkino he was drenched in sweat from the heat of the engine and the effort of bullying the car to do his will. But he at least retained enough good sense to coast down the slope toward the dacha, rolling to a silent stop about fifty meters away.
By now the darkness had given way to a shadowy half-light. Not the slightest breeze moved through the silent trees but the birds must already be stretching themselves in their nests to greet the day. Korolev and Yasimov walked along the gravel drive that led toward the house, their footsteps the only sound, and Korolev hoped his hunch that Yuri would have stayed close to the house-at least until dawn-was right. After all, this was the only spot he knew apart from the river. They moved as quietly as they could, but they must have been making more noise than he thought, because a white face appeared at the caretaker’s window. Not long afterward, Lipski opened the door to his small house, looking at Korolev with sympathy.
“They let you go?”
“They really did just want to talk to me.”
Lipski’s glance took in Korolev’s battered face but he said nothing.
“I see.” Lipski ran fingers through his thick beard. “I’ve kept an eye out but there’s been no sign of him-I’m sorry.”
* * *
They searched the woods, calling Yuri’s name, until the sun came up and it was time for Korolev to leave.
“Mitya,” Korolev said to his friend, “I have to go-if he’s still in the locality, my guess is he’ll try to take a train to Moscow.”
“I’d better get down to the station, then.”
“If he manages to get that far, he’ll try and make his way to Bolshoi Nikolo-Vorobinsky-can you call Valentina Nikolayevna? Just in case. Tell her what’s happened and ask her to make sure people keep an eye out for him?”
Yasimov nodded, then put a hand on Korolev’s arm.