Child 44 - Страница 42

It was eight in the evening by the time he finished. He left the ticket office, locking it behind him. He didn’t have far to walk as he and his parents lived in an annexe built above the station. Technically speaking, his father was in charge of the station. However, his father wasn’t well. No one at the hospital could say what was wrong with him except that he was overweight and drank too much. His mother was in good health and, her husband’s illness aside, generally cheerful. She had reason to be — they were a fortunate family. The pay for working on the State railway was modest, the amount of blat, influence, relatively small. But the real advantage was the accommodation. Instead of having to share with another family they had sole use of an apartment with plumbing, hot water and insulation — as new as the station itself. In exchange they were expected to be on call twenty-four hours a day. There was a bell which could be rung from the station wired directly to the apartment. If there was a night train or an early morning train they had to be on hand. But these were small inconveniences which, shared across the family, were more than offset by the relative comforts they enjoyed. They had an apartment easily big enough for two families. Aleksandr’s sister had married a cleaner who worked at the car assembly plant, where she also worked, and they’d moved into a new apartment in a good district. They were expecting their first child. This meant that Aleksandr, at twenty-two years old, had nothing to worry about. One day he’d take over the running of the station and the annexe would be his.

In his bedroom he changed out of his uniform, put on casual clothes and sat down to eat with his parents: pea-haddock soup followed by fried kasha. His father was eating a small portion of cow’s liver. Though expensive and extraordinarily difficult to come by, liver had been recommended by the doctors. Aleksandr’s father was on a strict diet, including no alcohol, which he was convinced was making him worse. They didn’t speak over dinner. His father appeared to be in some discomfort. He hardly ate. After washing the plates Aleksandr excused himself: he was going to the cinema. By this stage his father was lying down. Aleksandr kissed him goodnight, telling him not to worry, he’d get up to deal with the arrival of the first train.

There was only one cinema in Voualsk. Until three years ago there’d been none. A church had been transformed into a six-hundred-seat auditorium where a backlog of State-sponsored films were shown, many of which had been missed by the town’s population. These included The Fighters, Guilty Without Guilt, Secrets of Counter-Espionage and Meeting on the Elbe, some of the most successful movies of the last ten years, all of which Aleksandr had seen several times. Since the cinema’s opening it had quickly become his favourite pastime. Because of his running he’d never developed an interest in drink and he wasn’t particularly social. Arriving at the foyer he saw that Nezabyaemy God was showing. Aleksandr had seen the movie only a couple of nights ago and numerous occasions before that. He’d found it fascinating, not the film itself particularly, but the idea of an actor playing Stalin. He wondered whether Stalin had been involved in the casting. He wondered what it must be like watching another man pretend to be you, instructing them what they were doing right and what they were doing wrong. Aleksandr walked past the foyer. He didn’t join the queue, heading instead towards the park.

At the centre of Victory Park there was a statue of three bronze soldiers, fists clenched to the sky, rifles slung over their shoulders. Officially the park was closed at night. But there was no fence and the rule was never enforced. Aleksandr knew the route to take: a path away from the streets and largely out of view, hidden by the trees and the bushes. He could feel his heartbeat quicken in anticipation, as it always did, as he took a slow lap around the perimeter. It seemed that he was alone tonight and after the second lap he considered going home.

There was a man up ahead. Aleksandr stopped. The man turned to face him. A nervous pause communicated that they were both here for the same reason. Aleksandr continued forward and the man remained where he was, waiting for him to catch up. Side by side both of them glanced around, making sure they were alone, before looking at each other. The man was younger than Aleksandr, perhaps only nineteen or twenty. He appeared uncertain and at a guess Aleksandr supposed that this was his first time. Aleksandr broke the silence.

— I know somewhere we can go.

The young man looked around once more and then nodded, saying nothing. Aleksandr continued:

— Follow me, keep at a distance.

They walked separately. Aleksandr took the lead, getting a couple of hundred paces ahead. He checked. The other man was still following.

Arriving back at the train station, he checked his parents weren’t at the window of their apartment. Unseen, he entered the main station building, as though he were about to catch a train. Without turning on the lights he unlocked the ticket office, going inside and leaving the door open. He pushed the chair aside. There wasn’t much space but there was enough. He waited, checking his watch, wondering why the man was taking so long, before remembering that he walked fast. Finally, he heard someone enter the station. The door to the ticket booth was pushed opened. The man stepped inside and the two of them looked at each other properly for the first time. Aleksandr stepped forward to shut the door. The sound of the lock excited him. It meant they were safe. They were almost touching and yet not quite, neither of them sure who should make the first move. Aleksandr liked this moment and he waited for as long as he could bear it before leaning forward to kiss him.

Someone was hammering on the door. Aleksandr’s first thought was that it must be his father — he must have seen, he must have known all along. But then he realized it wasn’t coming from outside. It was this man, hammering on the door, calling out. Had he changed his mind? Who was he speaking to? Aleksandr was confused. He could hear voices outside the office. The man was no longer meek and nervous. A transformation had occurred. He was angry, disgusted. He spat in Aleksandr’s face. The glob of phlegm hung on his cheek. Aleksandr wiped it away. Without thinking, without understanding what was happening, he punched the man, knocking him to the floor.

The door handle rattled. Outside a voice called:

— Aleksandr, this is General Nesterov, the man you’re with is a militia officer. I’m ordering you to open the door. Either you obey or I call your parents and bring them down here to watch as I arrest you. Your father’s ill, isn’t he? It would kill him to discover your crime.

He was right — it would kill his father. Hurrying, Aleksandr tried to open the door but the office was so small that the man’s slumped body was blocking the way. He had to drag him to the side before he could unlock and open the door. As soon as the door was open hands reached in, grabbing him, pulling him out of the office onto the concourse.

Leo looked at Aleksandr, the first person he’d encountered after getting off the train from Moscow, the man who’d fetched him a cigarette, the man who’d helped search the woods. There was nothing he could to do to help him.

Nesterov peered into the ticket office, staring down at his officer, still dazed on the floor, embarrassed by the fact that he’d been overpowered.

— Get him out of there.

Two officers went in and helped the injured officer to a car outside. Seeing what he’d done to one of his men, Nesterov’s deputy cracked a blow across Aleksandr’s face. Before he could hit him again Nesterov intervened.

— That’s enough.

He circled the suspect, weighing up his words.

— I’m disappointed to catch you doing this. I would never have thought it of you.

Aleksandr spat blood on the floor but he didn’t reply. Nesterov continued.

— Tell me why.

— Why? I don’t know why.

— You’ve committed a very serious crime. A judge would give you five years minimum and he wouldn’t care how many times you said you were sorry.

— I haven’t said sorry.

— Brave, Aleksandr, but would you be so brave if everyone found out? You’d be humiliated, disgraced. Even after serving your five years in prison you wouldn’t be able to live or work here. You’d lose everything.

Leo stepped forward.

— Just ask him.

— There is a way to avoid this shame. We need a list of every man in this town who has sex with other men, men who have sex with younger men, men who have sex with boys. You will help us create this list.

— I don’t know any others. This is my first time…

— If you choose not to help us we’ll arrest you, put you on trial and invite your parents to court. Are they getting ready for bed right now? I could send one of my men to find out, bring them down.

— No.

— Work for us and maybe we won’t need to mention anything to your parents. Work for us and maybe you won’t need to go to trial. Maybe this disgrace can stay a secret.

— What is this about?

— The murder of a young boy. You’ll be doing a public service and making amends for your crime. Will you make this list?

Aleksandr touched the blood running out of his mouth.