Loius L'Amour The Last of the Breed

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if he returned and found them here, he would drive them out at once. The risk
was too great.
"Whatever you do," Zhikarev warned, "do not go to the post. Do not go nearer
the river than you must. They are very suspicious, and they shoot first and
ask questions of the body.
"Potanin likes to live well, and there is a small place" he traced an
imaginary diagram with his forefinger "here. There is a woman there who
makes little pastries and has tea. Also" he looked up at her "she does a
bit of business. She will have a bit of cheese and some sliced meat, and she
makes an excellent borscht.
"Potanin goes there. This our driver told me while you slept. He goes there
each day for a bit of something before going on duty. He reads a little, that
one. He will be a round-faced one with black hair, and he will have a book."
"A book?"
"He is always with a book. He reads the old ones, Pushkin, Gogol, Chekhov "
He paused. "Speak to him of books. You will have his attention at once. You
understand? He is friendly but aloof. I mean he does not mix. He is not one of
your vodka-swilling young officers who stagger home from duty.
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"He will have a drink, of course, but all who approach him want favors;
others are afraid because he is a soldier and wears that uniform. As for
receiving things from across the border, many of his superiors come to him for
a bit of something now and again. But speak to him of books and you will not
be brushed aside. He will be curious. I know him."
She put on her coat and the fur hat. She was shabby, she knew. Her clothing
was old and much worn. However, there would be many like her here, and it was
well that she would not attract attention. She must be as unobtrusive as
possible.
"You have some rubles?"
"Enough. Say a prayer for me, Father. I shall need it."
She went out and closed the door behind her. Ah, he said to himself, she
called me Father! I wish I were her father. To have such a child could make a
man proud. Yet he was frightened. She had been long away from towns and
people, and things in Russia had changed.
She walked steadily, stepping carefully because of the ice, but not wanting
to attract attention by hurrying too much. As she walked she was alert to all
around her.
A Volga went by, slowing a little for slippery places. Another Kama was
parked at the corner. As she passed it, she felt dwarfed by its size. Few
people were on the street. The Volga had gone on ahead of her and was pulling
off to one side near an official-looking building of concrete, squat and ugly.
She had to pass right by it, but she kept her head down and walked on. Two
people were getting out of the Volga, a big man who stamped his feet to warm
them and a woman. She was a young woman, dressed very well, but obviously an
official.
As she passed the Volga, the woman turned around. She was a sharp-looking,
very attractive brunette. Her hair was drawn back, and her eyes were large.
For an instant their eyes met, and she saw a puzzled expression come into the
woman's face. Natalya walked on, her heart beating heavily.
Had she been recognized? But how could she be? Who knew her? Or cared about
her?
Forcing herself not to look back, she continued on, rounded a corner, then
went off down another street. Then she came back to the little place of which
Evgeny had spoken.
She went in. Several people were present, but no young officer. She ordered
tea and a bowl of borscht that turned out to be surprisingly good.
She ate slowly and had another cup of tea. He did not come. At last she
arose, paid, and left. At the door she took a moment to straighten her coat
and put on her gloves, studying the street. Emerging, she looked again up and
down and then deliberately chose a way that would avoid the street along which
she had come. Her heart was pounding, and it was all she could do to avoid
looking around to see if she was followed.
Several times she changed direction, but the streets were virtually empty in
this quarter. She hurried on, returning to the little room in the corner of
the old building.
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Evgeny Zhikarev was waiting inside. He reached both his hands for hers,
drawing her quickly inside, and then closed the door.
"Ah! You do not know how frightened I have been! I have imagined all sorts of
things! Please, are you all right?"
"I am all right, but he did not come. Your literary lieutenant did not come.
I sat and waited. I drank my tea slowly, but he did not come."
She took off her coat and hat, fluffing her hair a little after the hat's
confining. "There was a car, a Volga with two people in it. The woman looked
straight at me. For a minute I thought "
"Two people? What was she like, this woman?"
"Dark hair, very striking. A handsome woman, she had manners like an
official. She looked right at me."
Zhikarev could feel his heart beating, and there was a sick feeling in his
stomach. "And the man? A tall, soldierly man? Very strong?"
"That's the one. Do you know them?"
"I know them." Evgeny Zhikarev sat down suddenly. "She is Comrade Kyra
Lebedev. She works with Colonel Zamatev, and the man was Stegman." He gestured
to his crippled feet. "He did this to me."
He limped across to the fire and added coal from the bucket. He straightened
up. "We have no time, then. Why else would they be here but for us?"
"She knows you by sight?"'
"Of course. She has been to my shop. We spoke of furs together. She would
recognize me at once." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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