Child 44 Part 16

Today had been Raisa's second day at Secondary School 151. The school's director, Vitali Kozlovich Kapler, a man in his late forties, had been more than happy with Raisa joining his staff since she'd be taking over many of his lessons enabling him, he'd claimed, to catch up with his paperwork. Whether her arrival was actually freeing him up to do other work or just allowing him to do less work, Raisa couldn't say for sure. On the basis of first impressions he seemed like a man who preferred bookwork to teaching. But she'd been more than happy to start work immediately. From the handful of cla.s.ses she'd taught so far she'd found the children less politically savvy than students in Moscow. They didn't break into applause at the mention of key Party figures, they weren't fiercely compet.i.tive about proving their loyalty to the Party and generally they seemed much more like children. They were made up of a patchwork of different backgrounds, families plucked from all corners of the countrytheir collective experiences wildly contrasting. The same was true of the staff. Almost all of the teachers had been transferred to Voualsk from different regions. Having experienced a similar upheaval to the one she'd just gone through they treated her nicely enough. They were suspicious of her, of course. Who was she? Why was she here? Was she all that she seemed? But she didn't mind, these were questions everyone asked of each other. For the first time since arriving in this town Raisa could imagine creating a life here.

She'd lingered at the school until late in the evening, reading, preparing for her lessons. School 151 was considerably more comfortable than a noisy room above a stinking restaurant. The shabby conditions had been intended as a punishment and while they bothered Leo they were an ineffective weapon against her. Above all else she was supremely adaptable. She had no attachment to buildings or cities or belongings. These sentiments had been taken from her, stripped out the day she'd witnessed the destruction of her childhood home. During the first years of the war, seventeen years old, she'd been foraging in the forest, mushrooms in one pocket, berries in the other, when sh.e.l.ls had begun to fall. They'd landed not near her but in the distance. Climbing the tallest tree, feeling the vibrations through the trunk, she'd perched on a high branch, like a bird, watching as several kilometres away her home town had been transformed into brick dust and smoke, a town literally flung up into the sky. The horizon had disappeared beneath a man-made fog, beaten up from the ground. The destruction was too swift, too widespread, too complete for her to have felt even the slightest hope for her family. After the sh.e.l.ling had finished she'd climbed down from the tree and walked back through the forest in a state of shock, her right pocket dripping juice from the crushed berries. Her eyes had streamed: not tears of sadness, for she hadn't cried then or since, but a reaction to the dust. Coughing on an acrid cloud, all that remained of her home and family, she'd realized that the sh.e.l.ls hadn't been fired from the German line, they'd whistled overhead, direct from the Russian front line. Later, as a refugee, she'd heard confirmation that their country's army had instructions to destroy any towns and villages which might fall into German hands. The complete annihilation of her childhood home had been a:

Precautionary measure.

With those words any deaths could be justified. Better to destroy your own people than there be a chance a German soldier might find a loaf of bread. There were no qualms, no apologies and no questions allowed. To object to the killings was treason. And the lessons her parents had taught her about love and affection, the lessons a child learns from watching and listening and living around two people in love, were pushed to the back of her mind. That behaviour belonged to a different time. Having a homea sense of place: only children held onto such dreams.

Stepping back from the window, Raisa was struggling to remain calm. Leo had begged her to stay with him, detailing the risks in leaving. She had agreed for no other reason than this was her best bet, not much of one, but the best all the same. And now he was jeopardizing their second chance. If they were to survive in this new town they had to remain inconspicuous, do nothing out of the ordinarysay nothing and provoke no one. They were almost certainly under observation. Basarov was almost certainly an informer. Vasili would most probably have agents in the town spying on them, just waiting for a reason to go the extra distance, to upgrade their punishment from exile to internment to execution.

Raisa turned the light off. In the dark she stood, staring out of the window. She could see no one outside. If there were agents working surveillance they'd almost certainly be downstairs. Maybe that's why the window had been secured. She would have to make sure Leo brought back the nails so they could be replaced. Basarov might check them when they were at work. She put on her gloves and coat and climbed out of the window, lowering herself onto the icy roof, trying not to make a sound. She closed the window behind her and clambered down to the ground. She had made Leo swear to one conditionthey were to be equals as they'd never been equals before. Yet he'd already gone back on his word. If he thought that she would silently stand by himthe obedient, supportive wifewhile he endangered her life for his own personal reasons, he was mistaken.

Same Day An area with a radius of roughly five hundred metres from the point where Larisa's body had been found had been searched as part of the official investigation. Even without any experience in murder investigations that area seemed small to Leo. Nothing had been discovered except the girl's clothes, discarded some forty or so paces from the body deeper into the forest. Why were her cloth.e.s.h.er shirt, skirt, hat, jacket and gloveslocated in a neat pile so far from her body? The clothes showed no trace of blood, they bore no knife marks, no slashes or cuts. Larisa Petrova had either been undressed or she'd undressed herself. Perhaps she'd tried to run away, towards the edge of the forest, only to be caught just before the clearing. If that was true she'd been running naked. The killer must have persuaded her to accompany him, maybe offering money for s.e.x. Once hidden in the relative depths of the forest, once she'd taken her clothes off, he'd attacked. But Leo was finding it difficult to apply logic to this crime. The incomprehensible detailsthe soil, the removal of the stomach, the stringwere alien to him and yet at the same time he couldn't stop thinking about them.

There was little chance of finding anything new regarding Larisa's death, even allowing for incompetence and oversight. Therefore Leo was in the conflicted position of needing to find a second body. During the winter these forests would be deserted, a body could lie here for months, preserved as Larisa's body had been preserved. Leo had reason to believe she wasn't the first victim. The doctor had suggested the killer knew what he was doing, that he had a competence and a.s.suredness that came from practice. The method suggested a routine, a routine suggested a sequence. And then, of course, there was the death of Arkadya fact that Leo held in abeyance at this time.

Searching by a combination of moonlight and discreet use of his flashlight, Leo's life depended on being undetected. He believed the general's death threat absolutely. However, his need for secrecy had received a setback when the man working in the train station, Aleksandr, had seen him walking into the woods. He had called out and Leo, unable to think of a plausible lie, was forced to tell the truth, saying that he was collecting evidence regarding the young girl's murder. He'd then asked Aleksandr not to mention this to anyone, claiming that it would compromise the investigation. Aleksandr had agreed and wished him luck, remarking that he'd always presumed the killer had been on a train journey. Why else was the body so near the station? Someone who lived in the town would know far more secluded areas of forest. Leo had agreed that the location was suggestive, making a mental note to himself to check up on this man. Though he seemed nice enough the appearance of innocence counted for little. Although, Leo mused, innocence didn't count for much either.

Using a map stolen from the militia's office, Leo had divided the forests surrounding the railway station into four areas. He found nothing in the first area, which was where the victim's body had been found. Much of the ground had been trampled under hundreds of boots. Not even the b.l.o.o.d.y snow remained, removed no doubt as part of the effort to erase all trace of this crime. As far as Leo could tell, the remaining three areas hadn't been searched: the snow was untouched. It had taken him an hour or so to cover the second grid, by which time his fingers were numb with cold. However, the advantage of the snow was that he could move relatively quickly, scanning large sweeps of ground for footprints, using his own tracks to mark sections that he'd covered.

Having almost finished the third area he paused. He could hear footstepsthe crunch of snow. Turning the flashlight off, he moved behind a tree, crouching down. But he couldn't hidethey seemed to be following his tracks. Should he run? That was his only chance.

-Leo?

He stood up, turning on his flashlight. It was Raisa.

Leo lowered the beam out of her face.

-Were you followed?

-No.

-Why are you here?

-I'm here to ask you that question.

-I told you. A little girl was murdered, they have a suspect but I don't think- Raisa interrupted, impatient, abrupt.

-You don't think he's guilty?

-No.

-And since when has that mattered to you?

-Raisa, I'm just trying- -Leo, stop, because I don't think I can stomach you telling me you're here doing the right thing, motivated by the principles of justice, or honour. Let's be blunt. This is going to end badly and when it ends badly for you, it ends badly for me.

-You want me to do nothing?

Raisa became angry.

-I'm supposed to bow down to this personal investigation of yours? There are innocent people suffering all across this country and there's nothing I can do about it except try and not be one of them.

-You believe that keeping our heads down, doing nothing wrong, that protects us? You did nothing wrong before, they wanted to execute you as a traitor. Doing nothing is no guarantee we won't be arrested anywayI've learnt that lesson.

-But you're like a child with a new fact. Everyone knows there are no guarantees. It's about risk. And this is an unacceptable one. You think if you can catch one genuinely guilty person all those innocent men and women you've arrested will just fade away? This isn't about any little girl, it's about you.

-You hate me when I toe the line. You hate me when I do the right thing.

Leo turned the flashlight off. He didn't want her to see him upset. Of course, she was correct, everything she said was true. Their fates were st.i.tched together; he had no right to embark on this investigation without her approval. And he was in no position to argue morality.

-Raisa, I don't believe they'll ever leave us alone. At a guess they'll wait a couple of months, maybe a year, between my arrival here and my arrest.

-You don't know that.

-They don't leave people alone. Perhaps they need to construct a case against me. Perhaps they just want me to rot in obscurity before finishing me off. But I don't have long. And this is how I want to spend that time, trying to find the man who did this. He needs to be caught. I appreciate that doesn't help you. However, there's a way for you to survive. Just before I'm arrested they'll double the surveillance. At this point, you should go to them, feed them some story about me, make a show of betraying me.

-What am I supposed to do until then? Sit in that room and wait? Lie for you? Cover for you?

-I'm sorry.

Raisa shook her head, turned around and walked back towards town. Alone, Leo switched the flashlight on. His energy was sapped, his movements sluggishhis thoughts were no longer on the case. Was this nothing but a selfish, futile enterprise? He hadn't gone far when he once more heard the sound of footsteps in the snow. Raisa had returned.

-You're sure this man's killed before?

-Yes. And if we find another victim the case reopens. The evidence against Varlam Babinich is specific to this girl. If there's a second murder, the case against him falls apart.

-You said this boy Varlam had learning difficulties. Sounds like a perfect person to blame for any crime. They might just blame him for both murders.

-You're right. That is a risk. But a second body is the only chance I have of reopening this case.

-So, if we find another body, you have an investigation. If we don't, if we find nothing, you promise to let this drop.

-Yes.

-All right, then. You lead.

Awkward, uncertain, they set off, deeper into the forest.

After almost thirty minutes, walking alongside each other, Raisa pointed ahead. Crossing their path were two sets of tracks, an adult's and a child's, side by side. There was no sign of any disturbance. The child hadn't been pulled along. The adult's boot prints were enormous and deep. He was a tall, heavy man. The child's footsteps were faint. The child was small, young.

Raisa turned to Leo.

-These might continue all the way to some rural village.

-They might.

She understood. Leo was going to follow them to their end.

They'd been walking for some time, following the tracks, with no sign of anything being amiss. Leo had begun to wonder if Raisa was right. Maybe there was an innocent explanation. Suddenly he stopped walking. Up ahead an area of snow had been flattened, as though someone had lain down. Leo moved forward. The footprints became confused, as if there'd been a struggle. The adult had walked away from the disturbance while the child's tracks went off in the opposite direction, their footsteps unevenly s.p.a.ced, raggedthe child had been running. From the impressions in the snow it was clear that the child had fallen over, there was a single hand print. But the child had got up and continued to run before falling again. Again the child had struggled on the ground although it was impossible to work out with whom or what they'd been struggling. There were no other footsteps. Whatever had happened here, the child had managed to get up, running once more. Desperation could be read on the snow. However, the adult's footsteps were still nowhere to be seen. Then, several metres up ahead, they reappeared. Deep boot prints emerged out of the trees. Yet something was oddthe adult was running in zigzags, this way and that, inaccurately converging on the child's position. None of it made any sense. Having walked away from the child the man had changed his mind and run erratically back towards him. Judging from the angles of the footprints he had caught up at some point past the next tree.

Raisa stopped, staring ahead at the point where the tracks would meet. Leo touched her on the shoulder.

-Stay here.

Leo moved forward, stepping around the tree. He saw the b.l.o.o.d.y snow first, then the bare legs, the mutilated torso. It was a young boy, maybe no more than thirteen or fourteen years old. He was small, slight. Just as the girl had been on her back, so was he, staring up at the sky. There was something in his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye Leo caught sight of movement. He turned to see Raisa standing behind him, staring down at the boy's body.

-Are you OK?

Slowly, Raisa raised her hand to her mouth. She gave Leo the smallest of nods.

Leo knelt down beside the boy. Tied around his ankle was string. The string had been cut: only a short length trailed in the snow. The boy's skin was red where the string had rubbed, cutting into his flesh. Steeling himself, Leo turned to look at the boy's face. His mouth had been stuffed with soil. It gave him the appearance of screaming. Unlike Larisa there was no layer of snow over his body. He'd been killed after her, maybe within the last couple of weeks. Leo leant over, reaching towards the boy's mouth and taking a pinch of the dark soil. He rubbed it between his finger and thumb. It was coa.r.s.e and dry. The texture wasn't like earth. There were large, uneven chunks. Under the pressure of his fingers the fragments broke apart. It wasn't soil at all. It was bark from the trunk of a tree.

22 March Some thirty-six hours after he and Raisa had found the boy's body, Leo still hadn't reported the discovery. Raisa was right. Instead of throwing the case open the second murder could be blamed on Varlam Babinich. The boy had no sense of self-preservation, he was open to suggestionwhisper something in his ear and he was likely to go along with it. He offered a convenient and swift solution to two horrific murders. Why look for a second suspect when there was one already in custody? It was unlikely Babinich would have an alibi, given that staff working at the internat internat wouldn't remember his movements or be prepared to vouch for him. The charges would almost certainly jump from one count of murder to two. wouldn't remember his movements or be prepared to vouch for him. The charges would almost certainly jump from one count of murder to two.

Leo couldn't simply announce the discovery of the young boy's body. First he had to establish that Varlam Babinich knew nothing about it. That was the only way to save him: to collapse the proceedings against the militia's prime suspecttheir only suspect. However, this was exactly what Nesterov had warned Leo against doing. It would mean that a criminal case would be opened without any suspect: a criminal case against persons unknown. The problem was exacerbated by the fact that Babinich had already confessed. Local MGB operatives would almost certainly become involved if they heard that a confession had been discredited by the militia. Confessions were the bedrock of the judicial system and their sanct.i.ty needed to be protected at all costs. If anyone else found out about the second murder before Leo could establish Babinich's ignorance, they might decide that it was far easier, simpler and safer for everyone involved to amend the confession and spoon-feed the suspect the necessary detailsthirteen-year-old boy stabbed in the woods, on the opposite side of the tracks, several weeks ago. This solution was neat, efficient and upset no one, not even Babinich himself since he probably wouldn't understand what was going on. There was only one way to guarantee that news of the second body didn't filter through and that had been for Leo to remain silent. On returning to the train station he hadn't raised the alarm or called his superior officers. He hadn't reported the murder or set up a crime scene. He'd done nothing. To Raisa's bewilderment he'd asked her not to say anything, explaining that he couldn't get access to Babinich until the following morning, which meant leaving the body out in the woods for the night. If the boy was to have a chance at justice then he couldn't see that there was any other option.

Babinich was no longer in the militia's carehe'd been handed over to the lawyers from procurator's office. A team of sledovatyel sledovatyel had already obtained a confession to the murder of Larisa Petrova. Leo had read the doc.u.ment. There were differences between the confession obtained by the militia and the one obtained by the had already obtained a confession to the murder of Larisa Petrova. Leo had read the doc.u.ment. There were differences between the confession obtained by the militia and the one obtained by the sledovatyel sledovatyel but this hardly mattered: they were broadly the samehe was guilty. In any case, the militia's doc.u.ment wasn't official and wouldn't be referred to in court: their job had only been to point out the most likely suspect. By the time Leo had made his request to speak to the prisoner the investigation had all but been completed. They were ready to go to trial. but this hardly mattered: they were broadly the samehe was guilty. In any case, the militia's doc.u.ment wasn't official and wouldn't be referred to in court: their job had only been to point out the most likely suspect. By the time Leo had made his request to speak to the prisoner the investigation had all but been completed. They were ready to go to trial.

Leo had been forced to argue that the suspect might have killed more girls and that before he was taken to trial the militia and sledovatyel sledovatyel should jointly question him in order to establish if there were any more victims. Nesterov had cautiously agreed: it was something they should've done already. He had insisted upon joining the interrogation, which had suited Leo fine; the more witnesses the better. With two should jointly question him in order to establish if there were any more victims. Nesterov had cautiously agreed: it was something they should've done already. He had insisted upon joining the interrogation, which had suited Leo fine; the more witnesses the better. With two sledovatyel sledovatyel and two militia officers present Babinich had denied knowing anything about any other victims. Afterwards the team had agreed that it was unlikely the accused had killed anyone else. As far as they were aware, there were no other missing girls with blonde hair, which was the motive in this case. Having achieved mutual agreement that Babinich was unlikely to have killed anyone else, Leo had feigned uncertainty, claiming they should search the forests just in case, widening the search to include any part of the forests within a thirty-minute walk of the town's perimeter. Sensing that Leo had an agenda, Nesterov's uneasiness had grown. In ordinary circ.u.mstances, had Leo not been connected to the MGB, his request would've been dismissed. The idea that the militia's resources should be spent actively looking for a crime was ridiculous. But as much as Nesterov mistrusted Leo he'd seemed afraid to oppose the suggestion, afraid that to do so would be dangerous since the order might be coming from Moscow. The search had been arranged to take place today: thirty-six hours after Leo and Raisa had found the boy's body. and two militia officers present Babinich had denied knowing anything about any other victims. Afterwards the team had agreed that it was unlikely the accused had killed anyone else. As far as they were aware, there were no other missing girls with blonde hair, which was the motive in this case. Having achieved mutual agreement that Babinich was unlikely to have killed anyone else, Leo had feigned uncertainty, claiming they should search the forests just in case, widening the search to include any part of the forests within a thirty-minute walk of the town's perimeter. Sensing that Leo had an agenda, Nesterov's uneasiness had grown. In ordinary circ.u.mstances, had Leo not been connected to the MGB, his request would've been dismissed. The idea that the militia's resources should be spent actively looking for a crime was ridiculous. But as much as Nesterov mistrusted Leo he'd seemed afraid to oppose the suggestion, afraid that to do so would be dangerous since the order might be coming from Moscow. The search had been arranged to take place today: thirty-six hours after Leo and Raisa had found the boy's body.

During these past hours the memory of the boy lying in the snow had dominated Leo's thoughts. He'd suffered nightmares where a boy in the middle of the forest, naked, disembowelled, had asked why they'd abandoned him.

Why did you leave me?

The boy in the nightmare was ArkadyFyodor's son.

Raisa had told Leo that she found it hard concentrating at school knowing there was a dead child in the woods and pretending nothing was wrong. She felt an overwhelming urge to warn the children, somehow alert the townthe parents knew nothing of the danger. None of them had reported a child missing. The school records showed no unexplained absences. Who was the boy in the woods? She wanted to name him, find his family. All Leo could do was to ask her to wait. Despite her unease she'd deferred to Leo's judgement that this was the only way to free an innocent young man and initiate a hunt for the person responsible. The ludicrousness of the reasoning made it sound entirely plausible.

Having recruited workers from the lumber mills to make up the search teams, Nesterov split the men and women into seven groups of ten. Leo was a.s.signed to a group searching the forests beside State Hospital 379, on the opposite side of town from where the body was located. This was ideal since it would be better if he didn't make the discovery. There was also a possibility that there were more bodies to be found. He was convinced that these victims weren't the first.

The ten members of Leo's team broke down into two groups of three and one group of four. Leo was working with Nesterov's deputy, a man instructed, no doubt, to keep an eye on him. They were joined by a woman, a mill worker. It took them the entire day to complete their portion of the search, several square kilometres through difficult snow drifts which needed to be prodded with sticks to make sure there was nothing underneath them. They found no body. Rea.s.sembling back at the hospital, none of the other two teams had found anything either. These forests were empty. Leo was impatient to know what was happening on the other side of town.

Nesterov was standing by the edge of the forest, near the railway maintenance cabin which had been commandeered and turned into a temporary headquarters. Leo approached, trying to seem unhurried and indifferent. Nesterov asked: -What have you found?

-Nothing.

And after a calculated pause Leo added: -What about here?

-No, nothing, nothing at all.

Leo's poise of cool indifference fell away from him. Aware that his reaction was being watched, he turned away trying to work out what could have gone wrong. How had they missed the body? Was it still there? The tracks were clearly visible. It was possible that the search perimeter hadn't stretched as far as the body but it must have stretched as far as the tracks. Was it that the team hadn't followed them to their end? If they were unmotivated, then they might have given up once the tracks continued past the edge of their designated search area. Most of the teams were returning: there wasn't much time before the entire operation would be concluded with the boy's body still in the woods.

Leo began questioning the returning men. Two militia officers, neither of them much older than eighteen, had been part of the team searching the area of the forests closest to where the body lay. They admitted there'd been tracks but they'd appeared to be innocent since they were four sets of prints rather than two: they'd presumed that they were nothing more than a family on an expedition. Leo had neglected to take into consideration that he and Raisa had made an additional set of tracks running parallel to those of the victim and the murderer. Fighting back his exasperation he forgot that he no longer had any authority and ordered the two men back into the woods to follow the tracks to their conclusion. The officers weren't convinced. The tracks might go on for kilometres. And more to the point: who was Leo to give orders?

Leo had no option but to go to Nesterov, ill.u.s.trating with the use of a map that there were no nearby villages in that direction, arguing that the tracks were suspicious. But Nesterov agreed with the two young officers. The fact there were four sets of prints made it an unlikely trail and not worth following. Unable to contain his frustration, Leo said: -I'll go alone, then.

Nesterov stared at him.

-We'll both go.

Leo was following his own footsteps deeper and deeper into the forests, accompanied only by Nesterov. Belatedly he realized that he was in danger, unarmed and alone with this man who wanted him dead. If he was going to be killed this was a good place. Nesterov seemed calm. He was smoking.

-Tell me, Leo, what are we going to find at the end of these tracks?

-I have no idea.

-But these are your footprints.

Nesterov pointed to the tracks in front of them and then at the tracks Leo had just made. They were identical.

-We're going to find the body of a dead child.

-Which you've already discovered?

-Two days ago.

-But you didn't report it?

-I wanted to establish that Varlam Babinich knew nothing about this murder.

-You were worried we'd blame him for the murder?

-I'm still worried.

Was Nesterov going to draw his gun? Leo waited. Nesterov finished his cigarette and continued walking. They said nothing more until they reached the body. The boy lay exactly as Leo remembered, on his back, naked, his mouth full of bark, his torso a savaged mess. Leo stood back, watching as Nesterov made an examination. He took his time. Leo could see that his superior officer was outraged by the crime. That was of some comfort.