After he had been driving a few minutes Natasha burst out, Where are you taking me, Inspector? This isnt the way to Petrovka?
No, its not. But well get there, never you fear, said Chislenko grimly. I just want a quiet word with you first. Im going to give you some advice and I think youd be wise to take it.
What do you mean? she said, looking at him with contempt. You scratch my back and Ill scratch yours, is that it?
What do you mean? he demanded in his turn, growing angry.
Ive seen the way you look at me, Comrade Inspector, she retorted. But I warn you, Im not one of your little shop-girls to be frightened out of her pants by an MVD bully!
The suggestion horrified Chislenko. Was this really how his admiration of Natashas lively spirit and gentle beauty had come across as unbridled lust?
Holding back his anger with difficulty, he said, Listen, Natasha, for your mothers sake if not for your own. This business at the Gorodok Building, its not wise to talk about it. Its certainly been very unwise of your mother to go spreading tales of ghosts and ghouls all over Moscow, and it would be even unwiser for her to fill the Yaroslavl district with them too.
Unwise for her to tell what she saw? said Natasha indignantly. How can that be? And I saw it too, dont forget!
Id try not to be so sure of that, said Chislenko.
What are you trying to tell me, Inspector? demanded the girl. And why do I have to be driven all over Moscow to be told it?
She still thinks Im going to park the car somewhere quiet and invite her to take her skirt off, thought Chislenko.
He swung the wheel over and accelerated out of the suburbs back towards the centre of town.
It would be wise to admit the possibility of error, Comrade Personal Assistant to the Deputy Costings Officer, he said coldly. It would be wise for your mother to do the same.
Wise? Give me one good reason?
He slowed down to negotiate the turn from Kirov Street into Dzerzhinsky Square.
Theres your best reason, he said harshly, nodding towards the pavement alongside which loomed a massive, ugly building. In many ways this was the most famous edifice in the city, out-rivalling even St Basils. Yet it appeared on no postcards, was described in no guide books.
This was the Lubyanka, headquarters of the KGB.
They drove on in silence.
After a while the girl said in a blank, emotionless voice, What now, Comrade Inspector?
Chislenko said, I take you to Petrovka.
So I am under arrest?
I said so in your apartment, Comrade, and Im not sure who may have been listening there. So I take you to Petrovka. I ask you some questions. The four most important ones will be: One, who was closest to the lift door when the lift stopped on the seventh floor? Two, what were you doing at that moment? Three, are you quite sure the man waiting for the lift did not merely change his mind and walk away? Four, who was it that made all the fuss and insisted on calling the emergency services?
Your answers will be: One, Josif Muntjan. Two, I was engaged in close conversation with my mother. Three, its possible as my mother and I didnt take much notice till the liftman started yelling. Four, Josif Muntjan.
Do you follow me, Comrade?
Yes, Comrade Inspector, she said meekly.
Good. Then I will make out a report saying that the Comrade Personal Assistant after some initial misunderstanding was perfectly cooperative and I have every confidence she and her mother will behave as good citizens should. You meanwhile will make your way home and take your mother for a walk and persuade her to hold her tongue when she gets back to her village.
Dont I get a lift home? she said with a flash of her old spirit.
Chislenko smiled.
That would be out of character for the MVD, he said. There might be others beside yourself looking for an ulterior motive.
She flushed beautifully.
Im sorry I said that, she said. It was a stupid thing to suggest.
He glanced at her and said drily, No, it wasnt, and she flushed again as they turned into the official car park at Petrovka.
That evening Chislenko visited Alexei Rudakov in his room at the Minsk Hotel on Gorky Street.
You again, said the engineer ungraciously. I was hoping for an early night. I leave first thing in the morning.
I know. Thats why Ive called now, said Chislenko. I wont keep you long. I wouldnt be troubling you at all except that Comrade Secretary Serebrianikov of the Committee on Internal Morale and Propaganda has taken a personal interest in the case.
He paused. Rudakovs eyebrows rose as he registered this information. Chislenko returned his gaze blankly.
He said, So if you could just confirm the following points. You were standing behind the liftman, Josif Muntjan, when the lift stopped on the seventh floor?
Yes.
Next to the two Lovchev women who were engaged in lively conversation?
Thats right.
So their conversation would probably have distracted your attention just as Muntjans body must have blocked your view?
A slight smile touched Rudakovs lips.
Quite right, Inspector, he said.
Chislenko phrased his next question carefully, If the man waiting to enter the lift had stepped forward, then changed his mind and retreated, stumbling slightly, and if then Josif Muntjan had started shouting that there was an emergency, you would have accepted his assessment, would you not?
Again the smile.
As an expert in my field, Ive always learned to accept the estimates of other experts, however menial, the engineer replied.
You mean, yes?
I mean, if that had been the case, yes.
And is it possible, in your judgment, Comrade, that that might have been the case?
This was the key question.
Of course one could say that anything is possible
So this too is possible? interrupted Chislenko.
Yes
Good, said Chislenko. Thats all, Comrade. If you would just sign this sheet, here. I think youll find its an accurate digest of our conversation.
Rudakov hesitated. Chislenko admired the hesitation but was glad when it developed no further.
With an almost defiant flourish, the man signed.
Thank you, Comrade, said Chislenko, putting the paper into the copious file on the affair he was lugging round with him in his battered briefcase.
Official business over? said Rudakov. Would you like a drink before you go, Inspector?
That would be kind, said Chislenko.
The engineer poured two glasses of excellent vodka.
Heres to a successful conclusion to your inquiries, Inspector, he said.
Ill drink to that, said Chislenko.
So Comrade Serebrianikov is interested in this business, Rudakov went on. A fine man.
Yes. You know the Comrade Secretary, do you?
Oh, not personally, said Rudakov. I dont move in such exalted circles. But naturally I know of his high reputation. Its men like him that have made the State the magnificent, just and efficient machine we enjoy today.
Chislenko smiled to himself. Rudakov had clearly decided not to take any risks. Being haughty with a mere copper was one thing, but now there was a hint of a KGB connection, the man was underlining his credentials.
And what is Comrade Serebrianikovs assessment of the affair, may I ask?
Chislenko looked at him quizzically across his glass.
Comrade Serebrianikov does not believe there are any ghosts in the Soviet Union, he murmured.
No, of course not, replied Rudakov, a trifle uneasily. Then, recovering, he added, It must have been an odd case for you to work on, Inspector.
Pretty routine, Comrade, said Chislenko.
Ghost-hunting is routine?
I thought wed agreed there are no ghosts, said Chislenko menacingly. He was rather enjoying this.
Yes, of course, I didnt mean
Chislenko tired of the game quickly and said, But it was routine. Even if there had been the possibility of a ghost, which there couldnt be, of course, thered have had to be someone whose ghost it might have been, which there wasnt. I checked back all the way to nineteen forty-nine. Thats where the routine comes in, Comrade. We even check out the impossible.
Why 1949? said Rudakov.
Thats when the Gorodok Building was completed, said Chislenko, putting down his glass.
Really? Id have said but no, it hardly matters. Another drink before you go?
No, thanks, said Chislenko, recognizing the tone of dismissal. But he also recognized the tone of something unsaid and his natural curiosity made him add, What doesnt matter, Comrade.
Sorry?
You seemed surprised at something about the date. Nineteen forty-nine is what the records say.
And no doubt theyre right. The building itself certainly belongs to that post-war period, but it just occurred to me now, while you were speaking, that well, I dabbled in many branches of mechanical engineering before I got on to power stations. I was involved in various kinds of building projects, domestic and commercial, and Id have said that the lift in the Gorodok Building predated nineteen forty-nine by quite a bit. German manufacture too, at a guess, though Id need to see the actual machinery to be certain of that.
Youre sure of this, Comrade? said Chislenko.
Rudakov laughed and said mockingly, In this affair it seems I must wait for you to tell me what Im sure of, Inspector. So, no, Im not sure of anything except that I must get on with packing. Good night to you.
Good night, Comrade, said Chislenko.
Slowly he made his way back to the high-ceilinged room in the old apartment house which was his home. Here he had another glass of vodka, much cheaper but also much larger. It would have been nice to slip into bed with nothing more troublesome than a few erotic fantasies about Natasha filling his mind. But to a good policeman, there are imperatives stronger even than sex. Unsatisfied lust can be dealt with either by a warm hand or a cold shower, but unsatisfied curiosity is not so simple to remove.
In addition, if it turned out hed missed something, however unimportant, it could mean a black mark against his name.
It was a long time before he got to sleep.
5
When the gay little records clerk arrived at the Public Works building the following morning, he was alarmed to see a figure lurking in the side entrance he used. He was not at once reassured when he recognized the waiting man as Inspector Chislenko.
The Gorodok records, snapped the weary-looking Inspector. Hurry.
Delighted that it was his files not his friends that interested the Inspector, Karamzin scurried to obey.
The records were as meticulous as one would have expected in a project supervised by a man who had since risen to the imposing heights of public responsibility that Mikhail Osjanin now occupied. Everything was listed and costed, down to the last pane of glass and concrete block. The lifts in the building had been manufactured and supplied in 1948 by Machine Plant No. 242 situated in Serpukhov, sixty miles south of the capital.