Under A Blood Red Sky Part 51

He kissed her mouth. Soft and tender. She clung to him, imprinting the feel of him into her muscles, then she stepped out of his arms and kept her voice steady.

'Did you find Yuri? Or Pyotr?'

'No. Pyotr seems to have vanished, but I learned that Yuri is up in the plane.'

'What?'

The Krokodil Krokodil had been carrying a lucky few up into the air for short flights all afternoon but it had seats for only nine pa.s.sengers at a time. Most were for the Party hierarchy but some were reserved for workers nominated for special dedication and achievement. had been carrying a lucky few up into the air for short flights all afternoon but it had seats for only nine pa.s.sengers at a time. Most were for the Party hierarchy but some were reserved for workers nominated for special dedication and achievement.

'Yuri is up in the plane,' Mikhail repeated flatly.

'It's Stirkhov's reward to him,' Sofia moaned. 'For information. '

Mikhail nodded, silent and severe. 'I'm so sorry, Sofia.'

The aircraft was coming in for its final landing of the day, its engines drowning out the chorus of cheers hailing its return.

'They're hunting for you, my love. The perimeters are well guarded, ident.i.ty papers are being checked. Our best chance of hiding you safely is in the middle of the crowd where you can keep on the move, until you-'

'Mikhail, Pyotr idealises the Party. Don't blame him.'

'I do, Sofia. I blame him, and I blame myself.' He looked at her, noticed her change of clothes, and the anger in his eyes softened. Gently he cupped her cheek in his palm and she tipped her head sideways into it.

'Well, what have we here?' An officer in khaki uniform was standing beside the front wing of the truck, staring at them. He looked just as surprised as they were.

'Comrade,' Sofia smiled and slid an arm around Mikhail's waist, 'you wouldn't deny us five minutes away from the sharp eyes of my friend's wife, would you?'

The soldier laughed. His trousers were already half unb.u.t.toned and it was obvious he'd come to relieve himself behind the truck. His face was broad and good-natured but his nose ran in a crooked line, as though it had been involved in one fight too many.

'Don't mind me, comrades,' he said easily. But just as easily the Tokarev pistol flew from the holster on his hip into his hand, its business end pointed straight at Sofia. 'Just show me your papers first.' He said it with a grin to emphasise that he intended no harm, just being cautious.

'Of course, comrade.'

Sofia made a show of rummaging in her pocket for her papers but instead her hand touched the cool surface of the stone and instantly she cleared her mind, stilled her breath. She moved forward towards the soldat soldat, her eyes locked tight on his, and she saw him frown and glance down at the gun in his hand with sudden confusion That was when Mikhail struck. Two strides and the edge of his hand to the man's throat, followed by a sharp blow to his jaw that sent the soldier's head snapping back against the side of the truck with a loud metallic thud. The body crumpled on to the gra.s.s. They took no chances. In seconds Sofia had the soldier's belt off and Mikhail had used it to truss his hands and feet together behind his back, then they stuffed his handkerchief in his mouth and pocketed his gun.

'Now,' Mikhail said. 'Time to leave.'

As soon as the Krokodil Krokodil touched down, everything happened fast. The two crewmen and their two a.s.sistants bundled projection equipment and cardboard boxes back on to the plane, while final but mercifully brief speeches were made and the band struck up the touched down, everything happened fast. The two crewmen and their two a.s.sistants bundled projection equipment and cardboard boxes back on to the plane, while final but mercifully brief speeches were made and the band struck up the Internationale Internationale for the last time. White clouds began to drift across the sun like curtains drawing a performance to a close. The mood in the field was one of exhilaration, as noisy huddles of men started to gather round bottles of for the last time. White clouds began to drift across the sun like curtains drawing a performance to a close. The mood in the field was one of exhilaration, as noisy huddles of men started to gather round bottles of kva.s.s kva.s.s and vodka. and vodka.

But none of it stopped those in uniform going about their job efficiently, and every blonde young woman was ordered to show ident.i.ty papers. Sofia dodged several, but time was running out. Any moment now the soldier behind the truck would be found, but Mikhail had gone once more in search of Pyotr.

'Don't attempt to leave until I return,' he'd said sternly.

She'd kissed him farewell, a light brush of the lips, and with it everything cracked inside her. She breathed, but only because she had to, not because she wanted to. She stood in the middle of a dense gathering close to the aeroplane and became aware of the tall figure of the blacksmith, Pokrovsky, on her right, and Elizaveta Lishnikova over to her left. They were keeping watch, extra eyes seeking out danger, and Sofia was certain it was Rafik who had told them to guard her. She was just edging in Pokrovsky's direction to apologise for her outburst in the smithy, when the teacher shouted a warning and the next moment a hand fell on Sofia's shoulder. She spun round.

It was a khaki uniform but not the one from the truck. This man was older, alert eyes under heavy bristled brows.

'Dok.u.menti,' he ordered.

Four men in uniform stood around her, like wolves, and from the corner of her eye she saw Pokrovsky pushing his way through the crowd towards her. No, don't come near No, don't come near. She willed him to keep away because she didn't want him hurt too. It would be a bullet in the back for her if she ran, but a bullet in the brain if they saw the name they were searching for on her papers. Back or brain, the choice wasn't hard. Time slowed down as she reached into her pocket and slid out her residency permit. Anna, forgive me. Forgive me, my friend, forgive me for failing. Anna, forgive me. Forgive me, my friend, forgive me for failing.

'Ah, there you are.' Mikhail's hand suddenly slotted under her elbow, almost jerking her off her feet. Pyotr was pressed close to her other side, his brown eyes dark with misery.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered.

'It's all right, Pyotr, you did what you believed was right.' Gently she touched his hand and felt his fingers cling to hers.

'Your papers?' The soldier raised his voice.

'Comrade,' Mikhail said sharply, 'this woman is with the crew of the-'

But already the soldier was reaching forward to pull her from Mikhail's grasp. Rifles rattled around her.

'Stop that at once.'

Sofia swung round and was astonished to find herself staring into the face of Aleksei Fomenko. He gave her no more than a fleeting nod, then flashed some ident.i.ty in front of the uniformed officer. A s.p.a.ce immediately cleared around her.

'I can vouch for this woman,' he said brusquely. 'What the h.e.l.l are you and your men doing wasting your time here when you should be out there,' he flung a dismissive arm towards the rest of the field, 'searching for the fugitive?'

The s.p.a.ce around Sofia grew even larger as the soldiers backed off and she felt Mikhail's grip tighten on her arm.

'This woman and I are to leave with the aeroplane crew,' Mikhail protested angrily.

'I'll need to see proof of that,' the officer responded, but already the aggression had waned and his manner was hesitant.

Fomenko put himself between Sofia and the uniform, his authority taking easy control. 'Don't be b.l.o.o.d.y foolish, soldat. soldat. The cloud base is lowering every minute, so they need to leave right now, or shall I report you for causing delays, too-' The cloud base is lowering every minute, so they need to leave right now, or shall I report you for causing delays, too-'

'No, Comrade Chairman, that won't be necessary.'

Sofia felt Mikhail jerk her into action. Her feet remembered to move as, heart hammering, she was propelled forward and into the aeroplane. The flimsy corrugated door closed behind her, the body of the Krokodil Krokodil shuddered and rumbled, making noises that sounded like contentment. shuddered and rumbled, making noises that sounded like contentment.

Sofia breathed. Because she wanted to.

55.

Rivers meandered lazily below as the aircraft flew due north. The threads criss-crossed through a vast water-filled landscape, emptied of all colour by mists that shrouded them in secrecy. The M-17 engines throbbed and as Mikhail sat in the pa.s.senger cabin he could feel every beat of the pistons, driving his blood through his veins. They powered a wonderful sense of being cut free from the earth.

It was a long time since he'd felt like this, as good as this. Which was crazy because he knew he was in serious trouble whichever way he looked, but somehow that all faded into insignificance up here. He was with Sofia and he was flying again, and he was determined to find Anna Fedorina. Reality on the ground seemed a long way down.

'Are you all right?'

Sofia turned her face from the window and gave him a smile, that crooked little curve of her lips that he loved.

'I'm fine.'

'Not nervous on your first flight?'

'No, I love it. How high are we?'

'Around three thousand metres.'

She nodded but looked tense. He put out a hand across the narrow aisle that divided them and stroked her arm, soothing her.

'It's the continuous juddering,' he said. 'It sets nerves on edge if you're not accustomed to it.'

She nodded again, a little dip of her chin. They hadn't spoken much on the plane, because in the small cabin every word could be overheard. There were nine seats set out in pairs, four each side of a narrow central aisle and one at the back. The two pa.s.senger members of the squadron, whose job it was to arrange the films and distribute the pamphlets, were seated at the front, but even so they were close and conversations were far from private.

'How far will we fly?' she asked in a low tone.

'The Krokodil Krokodil 's range without refuelling is seven hundred kilometres. ' 's range without refuelling is seven hundred kilometres. '

'We'll go that distance?'

'Yes.'

Her eyes changed as they stared at him in disbelief. Then she tipped back her long throat and released a silent shout of joy.

'I thought,' she said in a voice that struggled to sound casual, 'that we would just be taken . . . out of that field and put down somewhere nearby.'

'No,' he laughed for the benefit of listening ears, 'the Captain is taking us on quite a little jaunt. He wants me to give my professional a.s.sessment of how these propaganda trips are working out. As my secretary, you must take notes.'

'Of course,' she responded in a demure secretarial kind of voice, but she rolled her eyes dramatically and mimed typing in the air, so that Mikhail had to bite his tongue to stop a laugh. As the shadows of the clouds chased each other over the flatlands below, she asked, 'Did you arrange this?'

'Yes.'

She nodded and was silent for a while, gazing intently out of the small window. Eventually she turned to him again. 'Mikhail, what about Pyotr?'

'He'll be all right. Zenia is going to take care of him while I'm away.'

Her eyelids flickered but he couldn't tell why. Was it anger at the boy?

'I didn't expect that from Fomenko,' she murmured.

He gave her a long look. Chyort! Chyort! Was that man still in her mind? He put his head back and shut his eyes. Concentrate on Anna Fedorina, he told himself, this is your one chance. Concentrate on her. Was that man still in her mind? He put his head back and shut his eyes. Concentrate on Anna Fedorina, he told himself, this is your one chance. Concentrate on her.

The Krokodil Krokodil touched down. The surface of the landing field gave them a b.u.mpy ride but the plane rolled quickly to a stop and they climbed out. From the air the town of Novgorki was an unpleasant black scab on the landscape, but on the ground it looked worse, drabber and darker. After hours of almost nothing but forests of ma.s.sed pine trees and silver shimmering waterways with an occasional fragile village clinging to the banks, the dirt and squalor of the streets of the northern town of Novgorki came as a sharp reminder of how easily people could make a place ugly. touched down. The surface of the landing field gave them a b.u.mpy ride but the plane rolled quickly to a stop and they climbed out. From the air the town of Novgorki was an unpleasant black scab on the landscape, but on the ground it looked worse, drabber and darker. After hours of almost nothing but forests of ma.s.sed pine trees and silver shimmering waterways with an occasional fragile village clinging to the banks, the dirt and squalor of the streets of the northern town of Novgorki came as a sharp reminder of how easily people could make a place ugly.

It was a purpose-built town dedicated to minerals, with belching chimney stacks that soared into the grey sky, thickening the air with chemicals. Yet oddly Mikhail liked it. It was an unpretentious place - he could sense an undercurrent of wildness as strong as the stink of the sulphur, a town on the very edge of civilisation. That suited him just fine.

He thanked the pilot of the Krokodil Krokodil, a handshake was enough. Sofia observed them with a thoughtful expression but pa.s.sed no comment, just kissed the pilot's cheek, which made him blush to the roots of his gingery hair.

Mikhail was glad of the walk into town as it gave them time to discuss what lay ahead. It was evening when they reached the centre of Novgorki, but in July the days were long and the nights no more than a darker shade of white. The main road was called Lenin Street, as was usual, and held a crush of shabby concrete buildings. All the same monotonous shade of grey, they stood alongside squat wooden shops that had a greater air of permanence than the concrete. Rain-filled potholes littered the road - even at this hour it was busy with trucks and cars making the most of daylight hours.

'What now?' Sofia was looking round warily.

'A bed and a meal.'

Groups of men stood around on street corners, cigarettes hanging from their lips and bottles in their pockets. Mikhail approached one man with a thick Stalin moustache who leered at Sofia but directed them politely enough to a workers' dormitory, a bleak building where they showed their ident.i.ty papers and paid a few roubles in advance. They were allotted a couple of camp beds and soiled quilts, in separate communal sleeping areas.

'It's better than nothing,' Mikhail pointed out.

Sofia raised a doubtful eyebrow at him.

'Have you noticed,' she asked when they walked back out on to the street, 'how few women are here?'

'That's why we have to take extra care of you.'

They walked up the main street, aware of eyes watching them.

'More of Stalin's economic boom times,' Sofia muttered under her breath, with an ironic nod towards the empty shop windows.

Even at this hour many of the shops were still open and they chose a prosperous-looking hardware shop for their purpose. It smelled of pine resin and dust inside, where a short man with a broad northern face and well padded cheeks greeted them from behind the counter. His eyes crawled over Sofia.

'Good evening,' Mikhail said and let his gaze roam the shop. 'Busy, I see.'

The place was empty of other customers but did at least have a few goods on display. A sack of nails and screws, a box of hinges, some kerosene cans and paint brushes - but no paint, of course. Lengths of matting and a range of second-hand tools lay in a jumble around the walls, while zinc pans hung from the roof beams, low enough to crack a careless skull wandering beneath them. But behind the shopkeeper's head were shelves holding a row of cardboard boxes, unlabelled, and Mikhail suspected they contained the better stuff for the better customers. He picked up a roll of canvas and tossed it on to the counter. Beside him Sofia stood silent.

'Is that all?' the shopkeeper asked, scratching his armpit with relish.

'No.'

'What else?'

'I have something to sell.'

The storeman's eyes brightened and slid to Sofia.

'Not me,' she said fiercely.

The man shrugged. 'It happens sometimes.'

Mikhail placed a fist on the counter between them. 'Who in this town might want to buy an object of value?'

'What kind of object?'