Child 44 - Страница 71

— Where you are travelling from and where are you travelling to?

For a moment Raisa couldn’t speak. The words evaporated. In order not to appear frozen, she moved the young boy from one arm to the other arm and laughed.

— They get so heavy!

Leo stepped in.

— We’ve just visited her sister. She lives in Shakhty. She’s getting married.

The grandmother added:

— To a man who’s a drunk, I disapprove. I told her not to do it.

Leo smiled, addressing the grandmother.

— You want her to marry a man who only drinks water?

— That would be better.

The grandfather nodded before adding.

— He can drink but why does he have to be so ugly?

Both grandparents laughed. The officers did not. One of them turned to the little boy.

— What’s his name?

The question was directed at Raisa. Once again her mind went blank. She couldn’t remember. Nothing was coming to her. Plucking a name from her memory.

— Aleksandr.

The boy shook his head.

— My name is Ivan.

Raisa laughed.

— I like to tease him. I’m always getting the brothers’ names muddled and it drives them mad. This young man I’m carrying is Ivan. That is Mikhail.

That was the middle child’s name. Raisa now remembered that the eldest was called Aleksei. But for her lie to work he would have to pretend his name was Aleksandr.

— And my eldest boy is called Aleksandr.

The boy opened his mouth to contradict but the grandfather quickly stepped in and rubbed his head affectionately. Annoyed, the boy shook his head.

— Don’t do that. I’m not a child any more.

Raisa struggled not to let her relief show. The officers stepped out of their way and she led her imitation family out of the station.

Once they were out of sight of the station they bade farewell to the family, splitting up. Leo and Raisa got into a taxi. They’d already given Sarra’s family all the information pertaining to their investigation. If Leo and Raisa failed for whatever reason, if the murders continued, then the family would inherit the investigation. They’d organize others in an attempt to find this man, making sure that if any one group failed there would be another ready to take their place. He mustn’t be allowed to survive. Leo appreciated that it was a mob execution, no court, no evidence or trial — an execution based upon circumstantial evidence — and that in trying to exact justice they were forced to imitate the very system they were up against.

Sitting in the back of the taxi, a Volga, almost certainly one produced in Voualsk, neither Leo nor Raisa spoke. They didn’t need to. The plan was in place. Leo was going to enter the Rostelmash factory and break into the employment records. He didn’t know how exactly, he’d have to improvise. Raisa was going to remain with the taxi, convincing the driver if he became suspicious that all was well. He’d been paid in advance and generously to keep him placid and obedient. Once Leo had found the killer’s name and address they’d need the driver to take them to where the killer lived. If the killer wasn’t home, if he was travelling, they would try to find out when he’d be back. They’d return to Shakhty, remain with Sarra’s family and wait.

The taxi stopped. Raisa touched Leo’s hand. He was nervous, his voice barely a whisper.

— If I’m not back in an hour.

— I know.

Leo got out, shutting the door.

There were guards stationed at the main gates, although they didn’t seem to be particularly alert. Judging from the security arrangements, Leo was almost certain no one in the MGB had guessed that this tractor factory was his destination. There was a chance that the front guards had been deliberately reduced in number as a way of luring him in, but he doubted it. They might have guessed that he was heading to Rostov but they hadn’t figured out where exactly. Walking around the back, he discovered a point where the wire fencing was sheltered from view by the side of a brick building. He clambered up, straddling the barbed wire, and lowered himself down. He was in.

The factory ran a twenty-four-hour production line. There were shift workers but not many people around. The grounds were vast. Several thousand people must be employed here, Leo reckoned as many as ten thousand — bookkeeping, cleaning, shipments and the production line itself. With the additional split between day- and night-workers he doubted if anyone would recognize him as a stranger. He walked calmly, purposefully, as if he belonged here, making his way towards the largest of the buildings. Two men exited, smoking, heading in the direction of the front gates. Maybe they’d finished for the night. They saw him and paused. Unable to ignore them Leo waved, moving towards them.

— I’m a tolkach working for the car factory in Voualsk. I was meant to arrive much earlier but my train was delayed. Where’s the administrative building?

— It doesn’t have a separate building. The main office is inside, on one of the upper floors. I’ll take you there.

— I’m sure I’ll find it.

— I’m not in any rush to get home. I’ll take you there.

Leo smiled. He couldn’t refuse. The two men said goodbye to each other and Leo followed his unwanted escort into the main assembly plant.

Stepping inside Leo briefly forgot himself — the sheer size, the high roof, the noise of the machinery — all creating a sense of wonder normally reserved for religious institutions. But, of course, this was the new church, the people’s cathedral, and a sense of awe was almost as important as the machines it produced. Leo and this man walked side by side, making idle conversation. Leo was suddenly glad of his escort; it meant no one looked twice at them. All the same, he wondered how he was going to get rid of him.

They took the stairs off the main factory floor, climbing up towards the administrative department. The man said.

— I don’t know how many people are going to be there. They don’t normally work night shifts.

Leo still didn’t have a clear idea of what he was going to do next. Could he bluff his way through? It seemed unlikely considering the sensitive information he needed, they wouldn’t just give it to him no matter what excuse he came up with. If he’d still had his State Security identification card, it would’ve been easy.

They turned a corner. The corridor leading to the office had views over the factory floor. Whatever Leo decided to do he’d be visible to the workers below. The man knocked on the door. Everything now depended on how many people were inside. The door was opened by an older man, a bookkeeper perhaps, dressed in a suit, with sallow skin and a bitter expression.

— What do you want?

Leo peered over the bookkeeper’s shoulder. The office was empty.

Leo swung around, punching his escort in the stomach, causing him to double up. Before the bookkeeper had time to react Leo had his hand tight around the old man’s neck.

— Do as I say and you’ll live, understand?

He nodded. Leo slowly released his neck.

— Close all the blinds. And remove your tie.

Leo pulled the younger man, who was still wheezing inside. He shut the door, locking it behind him. The bookkeeper took off his tie, throwing it to Leo before moving to the windows, shutting out the view over the factory. Using the tie, Leo secured the young man’s hands behind his back, all the time keeping his eye on the bookkeeper. He doubted if there was a weapon or alarm in here, there was nothing worth stealing. With the blinds closed the man turned back to Leo.

— What do you want?

— The employment records.

Baffled but obedient, the man unlocked the filing cabinet. Leo moved forward, standing beside him.

— Stay there, don’t move and keep your hands on top of the cabinet.

There were thousands and thousands of files, extensive documentation not just for the current work force but for people who’d left. Tolkachs weren’t supposed to exist, since their necessity implied some fault in distribution and production. It was unlikely they’d be listed under that title.

— Where are the files on your tolkachs?

The old man opened up a cabinet, taking out a thick file. The front was marked RESEARCHERS, a cover. As far as Leo could tell there were five tolkachs currently on the payroll. Nervous — their entire investigation rested on these documents — he checked the employment history of these men. Where had they been sent and when? If these dates corresponded to the murders he would have found the killer, at least in his own mind. If it was enough of a match he’d go to the man and confront him — he was sure face to face, confronted with his crime, the killer would crack. He ran his finger down the list, comparing it to the dates and places held in his memory. The first list didn’t match. Leo paused for a moment, wondering about his own powers of recall. But the three dates he couldn’t forget were the murders in Voualsk and the murder in Moscow. This tolkach had never been there or anywhere along the Trans-Siberian railway line. Leo opened the second file, ignoring the personal information and moving to the employment record. This person had only started working last month. Leo pushed the files aside, opening the third file. It didn’t match. There were only two files left. He flicked to the fourth.