He had barely finished speaking when they heard the clatter of enemy machine guns and the monstrous squeaking of tracked vehicles, somewhere out beyond the barricades. The Langemarck Division had returned.
So much for the relief column,' muttered Zolkin. It looks as if we're on our own.'
Commander Chaplinsky met them in the doorway of the garrison. His face was blackened with gun smoke, making his teeth seem unnaturally white. Behind him, in what had once been a grand foyer, three exhausted soldiers sprawled on an ornately upholstered couch which had been dragged out into the open. Others lay around them on the floor, oblivious to the jigsaw puzzles of broken window glass beneath them. The worn-down hobnails on their boots gleamed as if pearls and not steel had been set into the dirty leather soles.
Find yourself a gun.' Chaplinsky gestured towards a heap of rifles belonging to those who were now being treated in an improvised dressing station in the old luggage room of the hotel. We're going to need everyone who can pull a trigger.' As he spoke, some of the more lightly wounded soldiers emerged from the dressing station, took up their weapons and returned to their posts.
Kirov and Pekkala each picked up an abandoned rifle and made their way along the hall until they found an empty room. The windows had been smashed out and furniture lay piled into the corner. Spent rifle cartridges and the grey cloth covers of Russian army field dressings littered the floor where a man had been wounded in the last assault.
From the look of things here,' said Kirov, this might not be the best place to make a stand.'
If you know of a better one, go to it,' answered Pekkala.
With a grunt of resignation, Kirov sat down on the floor with his back against the wall.
Pekkala stared through the empty window frame, eyes fixed upon the horizon, where dust churned up by the fighting dirtied the pale blue sky. He's out there,' Pekkala said quietly.
Who?' asked Kirov as he checked his rifle's magazine to see if it was loaded.
The assassin,' replied Pekkala.
And so is half the German army, Inspector. Are you trying to tell me you're still fixated on arresting a single man?'
Pekkala turned and studied him. That is exactly what I'm telling you.'
You're going to get us both killed,' said Kirov. Do you realise that, Inspector?'
If we worried about the risks every time we set out to find a criminal, we would never arrest anyone.'
Kirov laughed bitterly. Elizaveta was telling the truth.'
The truth about what?' asked Pekkala.
About you! About this!' He kicked out with his heel, sending spent cartridges jangling across the floor. Wherever you go, death follows in your path.'
She said that?'
Yes,' answered Kirov.
And you believed her?'
I just told you I did.'
Then why the devil did you come out here to find me?' demanded Pekkala. To prove that she was right?'
I didn't come here because of what she said!' shouted Kirov. I came here in spite of it.'
There was no time for Pekkala to reply. He ducked for cover as a stream of tracer fire arced towards them from a gap in a stone wall across the street. Bullets spattered against the walls, raising a cloud of plaster dust.
Here they come,' muttered Kirov.
Malashenko approached his cabin in the woods. After finding the cabin deserted, Malashenko had returned to Rovno, intending to meet Pekkala at the safe house, as he had promised to do. But no sooner had he reached the outskirts of the town when an attack began from the west. With machine gunfire whip-cracking in the air above him and mortars falling in the nearby streets, Malashenko realised that the enemy must have broken through and that he had wandered right into the fighting. Leaving Pekkala and the commissar to fend for themselves, he ran for his life back towards the cabin, the only place he could think of where he might be safe.
He did not expect to find Vasko there. By now, Malashenko was convinced that the Abwehr agent had already gone, having accomplished what he came to do. The thought that he had been cheated out of his bar of gold filled Malashenko with barely containable rage.
But when Malashenko arrived at the little shack, with its mildewed log walls and crooked tar-paper roof, he was stunned to discover that, in the few hours he'd been gone, all the windows had been knocked out. Vasko!' he shouted. Vasko, are you there?'
Yes,' said a voice behind him.
Malashenko spun around as Vasko stepped out from behind a tree, a Tokarev pistol in his hand.
I didn't think you were coming back,' the partisan remarked nervously.
Then you were mistaken, Malashenko.'
What the hell happened to my cabin?'
Somebody touched something they shouldn't have.'
Well, it wasn't me!'
I know,' Vasko said calmly. Because if it had been, you would be the one lying in pieces on the floor instead of somebody else.'
Pieces?' Malashenko glanced in through the cabin's open door. A headless body slumped in a chair against the wall. The walls were painted with blood. With nausea rising in his throat, Malashenko backed away. Listen,' he told Vasko. There is something you should know. Pekkala is looking for you. Pekkala, the Emerald-'
Vasko cut him off. I know exactly who Pekkala is.'
Then you know it's only a matter of time before he finds you.'
That is exactly what I intend for him to do.'
He's gone mad, thought Malashenko. Maybe he was from the start. Malashenko would have shot Vasko by now, but his sub-machine gun was slung across his back and he knew he'd never get to it before Vasko pulled the trigger on his pistol. Instead, he tried to reason with the man. And when he does catch you, after what you've done-'
Oh, he won't catch me,' Vasko assured him. You and I will see to that.'
You can leave me out of it!' snapped Malashenko. I already helped you. I did everything you asked of me.' He held out one dirty hand. You owe me that bar of gold.'
And you will have it,' said Vasko, but I require one small additional favour from you.'
What kind of favour?' demanded Malashenko.
I would like you to bring Pekkala here.'
So that you can add another to your list of murders? You don't understand. I have orders to protect the Inspector, as well as his assistant Major Kirov.'
Orders from whom?'
From Barabanschikov himself,' replied Malashenko. If anything happens to them it will be on my shoulders! In the meantime, I'm supposed to be helping them catch you.'</ol>
Vasko smiled. Then they will be pleased when you report to them that you found me lying dead in your cabin.'
For a moment, Malashenko just stared in confusion, but as the seconds passed, he began to understand Vasko's thinking. The body in the cabin,' he whispered. They'll think it's you.'
When they find the pieces of my radio, along with other evidence, they'll have no reason to think otherwise.'
And then you can get away clean,' said Malashenko, marvelling at the beautiful symmetry of Vasko's plan, because nobody looks for a man they think is lying dead in front of them. Barabanschikov will be pleased, Pekkala will thank me . . .' then Malashenko paused. But how will I convince them it is you?'
Vasko thought for a second, then he removed a spare Tokarev magazine from his pocket, pushed out one of the special soft-point rounds and tossed it to Malashenko. Just show him this. He'll know what it means. Go now, and the quicker you get back here with Pekkala, the sooner that gold will be yours.'
Malashenko needed no further encouragement. He turned and started walking down the trail to Rovno. Gradually, his walking pace picked up into a steady trot. Then, with thoughts of gold swimming in his brain, Malashenko broke into a run.
From somewhere beyond the barricade came the sound of a tank engine. A moment later, a German Jagdpanzer, normally used for destroying other armoured vehicles, appeared from around a corner.
Their faces masked with plaster dust, Kirov and Pekkala began firing at the vehicle, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off its front armour.
With no support, and no anti-tank weapons, the men in the garrison knew it was only a matter of time before the enemy made their final assault on the building. In the room-to-room combat that would follow, there would be no hope of surrender. It would be a fight to the death.
Why didn't you marry Elizaveta?' asked Pekkala.
You want to talk about that now?' Kirov asked incredulously.
There may not be another time,' said Pekkala.
How can I marry her,' asked Kirov, when the odds are I'd make her a widow long before we could grow old together?'
Do you love her?'
Yes! What of it?'
Then let her choose whether or not to take that risk. Your job is to stay alive. Hers is to trust that you will.'
That's some advice, coming from a man who sent his own fiancée away to Paris as soon as the Revolution broke out! She wanted to stay and be near you, but you forced her to go.'
And I have regretted it every day since. Do not postpone happiness, Kirov. That has been the most costly lesson of my life.'
The building shuddered as a shell from the tank smashed into the upper storeys of the hotel. Soldiers accompanying the armoured vehicle crouched in the doorways of wrecked buildings, shooting at anything that moved in the hotel.
The Jagdpanzer backed up slowly as it manoeuvred for another shot.
With a sound like a whipcrack, a bullet passed just over Kirov's head and smashed what was left of the light fixture hanging from the middle of the room.
Pekkala watched the barrel of the tank rising as it took aim. It seemed to be pointing straight at him. Slowly, he lowered his gun, knowing it was useless to keep fighting against such a machine. I'm sorry, Kirov,' he said. I should never have brought you to this place.'
I would have come here anyway,' answered Kirov.