When Abakumov entered, he bowed to Stalin and slightly less obsequiously to Vasily, who passed him on the way out.
‘Have you visited Hitler’s Chancellery?’ asked Stalin.
‘Yes, Comrade Stalin.’
‘I was planning to take a look but then I changed my mind. Leave that to Churchill and Truman. Comrade Stalin doesn’t make tours.’
He told him about Vasily’s allegations. ‘Check out Shako and Titorenko. Do whatever you need.’ Abakumov knew that when Stalin said, ‘Check out,’ he meant, ‘Arrest.’
‘Their children are mixed up in the Children’s Case,’ said Abakumov.
‘Oh, those poor children.’ Stalin lit a cigarette and the fingers of blue smoke curled themselves around him. ‘But they have to be punished. Their families could well be rotten to the core.’
‘Comrade Stalin, Comrade Satinov is in charge of the aircraft industry. Should I check
‘No. Find out what you can. A bit of pressure won’t do any harm. Do we have Comrade Satinov’s attention? If he’s guilty he’ll answer to the Central Committee, but he’s a hard-working comrade.’ Stalin paused, deep in thought. ‘You know some of our generals behave as if they won the war on their own.’
‘You won the war, Comrade Stalin,’ said Abakumov.
Stalin scowled at him. ‘Don’t talk nonsense, Abakumov. The people won the war, the people.’
‘Yes of course, Comrade Stalin, but many of our generals are corrupt. Their heads have been turned by titles and applause. Their apartments are filled with paintings, rugs and furniture brought in trains from all over Europe.’
Stalin grunted his agreement. ‘We Bolsheviks don’t tolerate corruption. Get back to Moscow and take off the silk gloves. Check out the generals and mount your prisoners at once. Vasily says pilots barely dare fly their planes at present. A crime.’
Stalin half closed his eyes. Abakumov was a blockhead, but this time, he seemed to have understood his coded semaphores. Didn’t all the heroes of history – Genghis Khan, Ivan the Terrible, Nadir Shah, Napoleon – talk in riddles?
Abakumov saluted. ‘I’ll report, Comrade Stalin.’ He headed for the door.
‘Oh, and Comrade Abakumov?’ The Chekist turned back. ‘When I was a boy at the seminary, I was always curious about my friends, so I studied their parents. I could learn everything about the parents by talking to the children. Remember this, won’t you, when you’re back in Moscow?’
It was late in the evening when Hercules Satinov got home, but as soon as he opened his door, Tamara threw herself into his arms as if she had been waiting for him. She was so distraught that she could scarcely speak, and her skin was mottled with weeping. In the background he could hear Leka the housemaid sobbing too.
‘You’ve got to do something. You’ve got to talk to Stalin!’ Tamara cried.
The Name made Satinov’s cheeks tighten and his eyes keen. He took his wife’s hands and led her into his study. George had been in the Lubianka for weeks now, and long days had passed since they had thought he was going to be released. And still no word.
‘Call Stalin!’ she was shouting. ‘Now! I’ll call him myself!’
It had to be the children – or was it… no: had something happened to George? He had lost one son already. Could he bear the loss of another?
‘Tamriko, calm down. Tell me what’s happened.’
‘They’ve taken Mariko! She’s six, Hercules. Get her released! How will she survive in there?’
Oh my God: little Mariko, his only daughter, the jewel in his crown. A pulse started high on his cheek, and the fury rushed through him. The humiliation stung him. Analyse what this means, he told himself. Put together the pieces of the jigsaw in a game where there are no coincidences.
Stalin specialized in surprises, and Satinov spent his time predicting them if he could. Earlier that day, Marshal Shako and five other generals had been arrested. He knew this concerned the planes. It was aimed at him as the boss of the aircraft industry. But Mariko! This was unworthy of a Bolshevik, unworthy of Stalin.
The phone rang. Both of them jumped. Satinov answered it. ‘Satinov. I’m listening… Comrade Abakumov, thank you for calling.’ He looked at Tamara and gestured reassuringly as he listened. As he held the phone, Tamara stood up and pressed herself against him, laying her head on his shoulder; he wrapped his other arm around her. ‘Yes, naturally we’re worried… Yes Tamara is upset. Mariko is only six, comrade general, she’ll be terrified and—’
‘Tell him Mariko doesn’t eat eggs,’ said Tamara. ‘She’s allergic and if she doesn’t have a biscuit at eleven, she feels faint. She doesn’t have her toy dogs, and she can’t sleep without them. Tell him, Hercules!’ But Satinov held up a finger for quiet.
‘Comrade general, I know Mariko was on the bridge that night and I appreciate that it is the Organs’ Communist duty to investigate. If Mariko is essential, then yes she must be questioned.’ He listened. ‘I appreciate that… Tamara will be there twice at eight a.m. and eight p.m. Thank you, Comrade Abakumov… Bolshevik greetings to you too.’
