|
particular. Anthrax. I don’t suppose you know very much about that.”
“I know about anthrax,” I said.
“We thought we could change the world … your father especially. He
was looking at ways to prevent the infection of sheep and cattle. But
there was an accident. Working in the laboratory together, we created a
form of anthrax that was much faster and deadlier than anything anyone
had ever known. It had no cure. Antibiotics were useless against it.”
“It was a weapon?”
“That wasn’t our intention. That wasn’t what we wanted. But – yes. It
was the perfect biological weapon. And of course the government found
out about it. Everything that happens in this place they know about. It
was true then. It’s true now. They heard about our work here and they
came to us and ordered us to develop it for military use.” Dementyev
took out a handkerchief and used it to polish the lenses of his glasses. He
put them back on. “Your father refused. It was the last thing he wanted.
So they started to put the pressure on. They threatened him. And that
was when he did something incredibly brave … or incredibly stupid. He
went to a journalist and tried to get the story into the newspapers.
“He was arrested at once. I was here, in the laboratory, when they
marched him away. They arrested your mother too.”
“How old was I?” I asked.
“You were two. And – I’m sorry, Yasha – they used you to get at your
parents. That was how they worked. It was very simple. If your parents
didn’t do what they were told, they would never see you again. What
choice did they have? They were sent to Estrov, to work in the
factory. They were forced to produce the new anthrax. That was the
deal. Stay silent. And live.”
So everything – my parents’ life or their non-life as prisoners in a
remote village, the little house, the boredom and the poverty – had been
for me. I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. Was I to blame for
everything that had happened? Was I the one who had destroyed their
lives?
“Yasha…” Dementyev stood up and came over to me. He was much
taller than I had expected now that he was on his feet. He loomed over
me. “Were you inoculated?” he asked.
I nodded. “My parents were shot at when they escaped. But they stole
a syringe. They injected me.”
“I knew your father had been working on an antidote. Thank God! But
I guessed it the moment I saw you. Otherwise you would have been dead
a long time ago.”
“My best friend died,” I said.
“I’m so sorry. Anton and Eva – your parents – were my friends too.”
We fell silent. He was still standing there, one hand on the back of my
chair.
“What will happen to me?” I asked.
“You don’t need to worry any more, Yasha. You’ll be well looked
after.”
“Who was that you called?”
“It was a friend. Someone we can trust. He’ll be here very soon.”
There was something wrong. Things that he’d told me just didn’t add
up. I was about to speak when I heard the sound of sirens, police cars
approaching, still far away but drawing nearer. And I knew instantly
that there was no friend, that Dementyev had called them. It wasn’t
detective work. I could have asked him why my parents had been sent to
live in Estrov while he had been allowed to stay here. I could have
played back the conversation he’d had on the telephone, how he had
referred to me simply as “the boy”. Not Yasha. Not Anton’s son. The
people at the other end knew who I was because they’d been expecting
me to show up, waiting for me. I could have worked it out but I didn’t
need to. I saw it all in his eyes.
“Why?” I asked.
He didn’t even try to deny it. “I’m sorry, Yasha,” he said. “But nobody
can know. We have to keep it secret.”
We. The factory managers. The helicopter pilots. The militia. The
government. And Dementyev. They were all in it together.
I scrabbled to my feet – or tried to. But Dementyev was ahead of me.
He pounced down, his hands on my shoulders, using his weight to pin
me to the seat. For a moment his face was close to mine, the eyes staring
at me through the thick lenses.
“There’s nowhere you can go!” he hissed. “I promise you … they won’t
treat you badly.”
“They’ll kill me!” I shouted back. “They killed everyone!”
“I’ll talk to them. They’ll take you somewhere safe…”
Yes. I saw it already. A prison or a mental asylum, somewhere I’d
never be seen again.
I couldn’t move. Dementyev was too strong for me. And the police cars
were getting closer. We were twenty-four floors up but I could hear the
sirens cutting through the air. And then I had an idea. I forced myself to
relax.
“You can’t do this!” I exclaimed. “My father gave me something for
you. He said it was very valuable. He said if I gave it to you, you’d have
to help me.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s in a bag. It’s in my pocket!”
“Show me.”
He let go of one of my shoulders … but only one of them. I still
couldn’t wrench myself free. I was sitting down. He was standing over
me and he was twice my size.
“Take it out,” he said.
The police must have turned into the main university drive. I heard car
doors slam shut.
Using my one free arm, I drew out the black bag that my mother had
given me. At least Dima and his friends hadn’t stolen it when they took
my money. I placed it on the desk. And it worked just as I’d hoped.
Dementyev still didn’t let go of me but his grip loosened as he reached
out and opened the bag. I saw his face change as he tipped out the
contents.
“What…?” he began.
I jerked myself free, throwing the chair backwards. As it toppled over,
I managed to get to my feet. Dementyev swung round but he was too
late to stop me lashing out with my fist. I knocked the glasses off his
face. He fell back against the desk but then recovered and seized hold of
me again. I needed a weapon and there was only one that I could see. I
reached out and grabbed the arm of the skeleton, wrenching it free from
the shoulder. The hand and the wrist dangled down but I hung onto the
upper bone – the humerus – and used it as a club, smashing it against
Dementyev’s head again and again until, with a howl, he fell back.
I twisted away. Dementyev had crumpled over the desk. There was
blood streaming down his face.
“It’s too late…” he stammered. “You won’t get away.”
I snatched back the jewellery and tumbled out of the office. There was
nobody outside. Surely someone must have heard what had happened? I
didn’t want to know. I ran to the lift. It was already on the way up and it
took me a few seconds to work out that the police were almost certainly
inside, travelling towards me. And I might have been caught standing
there, waiting for them! I continued down the corridor and found a fire
exit – leading to twenty-four flights of stairs. I didn’t stop until I reached
the bottom and it was only then that I realized I was still carrying the
skeleton’s arm. I found a dustbin, picked up some loose papers and
dropped the arm in.
As I walked down the steps at the front door, I saw three police cars
parked there with their lights flashing. I pretended to be immersed in the
papers I had taken. If there were any policemen outside, I would look
like one more of the countless students coming in and out.
But nobody stopped me. I hurried back to the station with just one
thought in my head. I was alone in Moscow with no money.
Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: | 
