City of Ghosts by Ben Creed (most important books of all time txt) 📕

hand. The two of them stared at each other. The background chatter and commotion of half a dozen families fell silent.

The visitor or visitors resumed the assault on the door. Failing to open it would achieve nothing. Besides, almost everyone had a bag packed under the bed, ready for an impromptu journey to the camps. Almost everyone was prepared. Though Rossel had never got around to it.

He walked down the corridor.

‘Who is there?’ he said through the door.

‘State security,’ came the reply. ‘Open up.’

*

Major Nikitin was in full uniform.

Rossel’s stomach lurched. There had been a change of heart, he thought.

But the major was alone – no squad of MGB officers, lists in hand, burst in behind him.

‘Should I pack some possessions, Major?’ he asked.

Nikitin’s mouth twisted. ‘You misunderstand. I want an update on your progress, that is all. May I come in?’

It was not the MGB’s style to toy with its prey. Or to ask permission. They didn’t have the time. Nikitin’s politeness threw him a little.

Rossel stood to one side. ‘Please.’

The major stepped over the threshold and removed his boots and cap. Rossel felt his hands curl into fists. They won’t just take me. They’ll take Vassya, the whole kommunalka. Would anyone notice if Major Nikitin failed to report for duty in the morning? If Rossel surrendered to his rage and started beating Nikitin to a pulp, the way the major had done to so many others?

Crouched down, the back of his neck bulging over his collar, the MGB man tucked the boots into the long line of footwear along the hallway and perched his blue and red MGB cap on top of the small hill of fur and woollen hats piled on the hat stand. These niceties came as a shock. His torturer must do this every evening, Rossel realised – wipe his feet, hang up his hat and then wash his hands before supper, as if he were just a normal person.

Of course they would notice. And then the entire apartment block would be rounded up and disappeared. Rossel’s hands uncurled. For the time being. One day, he thought. One day.

Nikitin strode on and nearly collided with Lena, who had emerged into the hall to see who the new guest was. Dwarfed by Nikitin’s bulk and looking straight into his scarred face, the teenager turned pale and stood rooted to the spot.

‘Good evening,’ said Nikitin.

Lena mumbled a greeting before turning tail and vanishing down the corridor. Rossel could hear a great deal of whispering and slamming of doors. Before he could think of a way to divert him and get Vassya out of the flat, the major was already entering the kitchen. Rossel hurried after him.

‘A nervous child, that one. Nevertheless, it’s good to be around young people. I have a son myself.’

‘Would you like some tea, Comrade Major?’ Rossel asked.

Tea? What the hell was he thinking?

‘That would be wonderful. On a night like this the cold is unrelenting. Ah, forgive me – your file makes no mention of a Mrs Rossel. Good evening.’

‘Major Nikitin,’ Rossel said, flustered. ‘Allow me to introduce Comrade Tatiana Vasiliyeva. A neighbour.’

Vassya got to her feet. ‘Comrade Major,’ she said.

‘It is very nice to meet you,’ Nikitin said.

‘It is very nice to meet you,’ Vassya echoed, failing to convince any of them. As Nikitin found a seat, she shot Rossel a look. ‘I must go, excuse me,’ she muttered.

But the MGB man had smelt them out. He looked from one to the other and smiled, his eye blinking above that mass of scar tissue.

‘Please stay, I insist. I have come only to encourage Lieutenant Rossel to proceed with all haste with his latest investigation.’

‘I thought you said you had come to ask for a progress report?’ said Rossel.

Nikitin’s good eye was like a searchlight. ‘There has been progress?’

Rossel nodded.

‘Yes, I think so. But I need to go back to the crime scene. I want to take another look at how the killer arranged the bodies.’

‘Then what are you waiting for? Why are you still here?’ The major’s voice was filled with impatience.

‘I am waiting for the weather to clear, Major. All the roads towards the crime scene are blocked by thick drifts. I reckon a day at least before I can get out to Lake Lagoda.’

Nikitin scowled.

‘I can buy you more time, Lieutenant. But only a little. Any more than that may prove impossible. The powers that be are becoming increasingly impatient for an arrest.’

Vassya stepped forward and stood by Rossel’s side.

‘I think I may know a way,’ she said.

29

‘Is it much further, Comrade Vasiliyeva?’

Nikitin had to shout to make himself heard over the biting headwind and the sound of the engines. They dropped fifty metres, leaving Rossel’s stomach fighting to leave his body through his nostrils. Then the little Polikarpov Po-2 rose again.

Some Russians called it the best plane ever built, though fewer praised its levels of comfort. In this model – modified to take non-military personnel, so with an extra seat behind the pilot and a covered cockpit – Rossel had had to cram himself into position. Behind him, Nikitin, shorter but stockier, was having an even worse time.

Vassya, piloting the Po-2, yelled over her shoulder. ‘I’m doing close to top speed, hundred and thirty kilometres per hour. So not far to Lagoda, another ten minutes, maybe fifteen . . .’

‘What did she say?’ bellowed Nikitin in his ear.

‘I didn’t hear,’ Rossel yelled back at him.

‘Fuck your mother!’

Both men were wearing thick flying jackets and hats that someone had unearthed at the aerodrome. It was barely good enough.

Vassya raised her gloved left hand, five fingers splayed. Then did it a second time.

‘Thank fuck for that,’ shouted Nikitin. ‘Rossel, why have you pulled back the screen? My bollocks are beginning to freeze to this tiny metal circle of a seat. I’d have less chance of getting piles if I had shoved an ice cube up my arse. And every time she touches the joystick I want to puke. This idea