A Man Without Breath

‘You may not be glad you didn’t kill me. But I’m delighted you’re still alive my friend. You’re going to be a very useful witness in Germany. You’re going to be famous.’

‘Idl ti na fig.’ Krivyenko shook his head. ‘Chto za chepukha,’ he said. ‘The boss isn’t going to allow any of that.’

‘Oh, he’ll have to allow it,’ I said. ‘You see, it’s not just me who’ll be there to convince him that he has to. There’s Colonel von Gersdorff, too. And even if Von Kluge doesn’t want to believe you were part of what happened to Batov and at Katyn, he’ll have to believe it if someone of his own noble class tells him.’

Krivyenko grinned. ‘Better for you that you should let me go. Better for you and better for me. It will be embarrassing for him and he won’t appreciate that. Ya tebya o-chen proshu. Let me go and you’ll never see me again. I’ll just disappear.’ He nodded to his right. ‘The river is that way. I’ll just walk over there and disappear. But there will be hell to pay – for us both – if you try to make this stick.’

‘You think I’m going to let you go just because it might cause some embarrassment for Von Kluge?’

‘He will let me go if you don’t. Just to avoid the chance of any scandal.’

‘I reckon that if it comes to you accusing him of inciting the murders of the signalsmen it’ll be your word – the word of an NKVD major – against the word of a German field marshal. Nobody will believe anything you say. The minute you’re in custody my guess is that Von Kluge will try to put as much distance between him and you as possible.’ I frowned. ‘By the way, how did you get through the checkpoint on the bridge without your name appearing in the field police records? You didn’t swim, so how did you do it? Every boat between here and Vitebsk was requisitioned last summer.’

‘Trouble with you Germans, you think there’s only one way to skin a cat.’

‘From what I’ve heard most people use a knife.’

‘I’ll tell you for another drink,’ he said, ‘as I suppose even you will manage to find out, sooner or later.’

I put the flask to his lips and tipped some into his mouth.

‘Spasiba.’ He shrugged. ‘About five hundred metres upriver from here there’s a simple wooden raft. Some lady friends made it for me. You’ve probably seen them – in the river, binding logs together to transport stuff up and down the river. And I had a long pole that I used to just push it across. Nothing more complicated than that. You’ll find a motorcycle hidden in some bushes on the other bank. Look, if you’re not going to let me go then I’d like to see a doctor. My shoulder aches and I’m bleeding. You mentioned something about a prison hospital?’

‘I ought to kill you right here.’

‘Maybe you should.’

I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to his feet. ‘Get moving.’

‘What if I don’t want to walk?’

‘Then I can shoot you again. You should know, there are lots of ways to do it without injuring you too badly.’ I grabbed his ear and pushed the barrel of the Mauser inside it. ‘Or I could shoot your greasy fucking ears off, one at a time. I don’t think anyone but you and the hangman will mind very much if your head is minus a couple of spoons.’

*

I drove back to the Peter and Paul bridge and kicked my prisoner out of the passenger seat and onto the ground. I told the field police to take Krivyenko to the prison on Kiewerstrasse and, after the doctor had treated his wounds, to lock him up in solitary for the night.

‘I’ll be there with a list of charges first thing in the morning,’ I said, ‘just as soon as I’ve spoken with Colonel von Gersdorff.’

‘But this is Dyakov, sir,’ they said. ‘The field marshal’s Putzer.’

‘No, it’s not,’ I said. ‘The real Dyakov is dead. This man is an NKVD major called Krivyenko. He’s the one who murdered those two German signallers.’ I didn’t mention the Russians he’d murdered, or the Spaniard; Germans weren’t much concerned about people from a country other than Germany. ‘And he’s still dangerous, so treat him with care, do you hear? He’s a fox, that one. He just tried to shoot me, too. And almost succeeded. But for a rifle stock that got in the way, I’d be a dead man.’

My chest was still hurting so I unbuttoned my shirt to take a look, and under the kennel hound’s flashlight I saw a bruise that was the size and colour of a Friesian’s tattoo.

Back at Krasny Bor I noticed straight away that the colonel’s Mercedes was gone, and when I knocked on the door of his hut to tell him that Krivyenko had now revealed his hand there was no reply and none of the lights were burning.

I went to the officers’ mess in search of some information as to his whereabouts.

‘Didn’t you see the notice?’ asked the mess sergeant – a Berliner who was a bit on the warm side, I thought.

‘What notice?’

‘Most of the officers of the High Command are dining tonight in the mess at the department store in Smolensk, as guests of the local army commandant.’