Page 42 of White Wolf

Feliks brought up the rear and Kolya led the way, leading them down into an alley that stank of unwashed human bodies, where a queue more than fifty long waited in front of a window, where they were trading ration cards for questionable gray loaves of bread. Those waiting – a blend of older and young women, and dirty-faced children – glanced at their passing group with outward fear, shrinking down into their scarves and coat collars, averting their eyes.

In Tomsk, the Cheka were feared in a way that a bear with a taste for manflesh was feared: they were an unseemly annoyance thatcouldpresent a real danger, but mostly just hampered daily life. They invaded homes, and they stole, and had no respect for decency. But no one back home shrank like these people, quivering and hiding gasps in their gloves.

Sasha wanted to ask Ivan what this was about…but he didn’t have to.

After they passed the queue, and passed through an open iron gate, Sasha glanced up over Kolya’s shoulder and saw three men dressed up like Chekists walking toward them, long black coats swirling around their knees.

Beside him, Ivan’s spine straightened the final fraction, his breath catching in a quiet huff, like a startled animal.

“What?” Sasha asked, but then the strangers were upon them.

“Dyomin,” the leader greeted Kolya, drawing to a halt. He had a pale, pouchy face, his eyes small and set a hairsbreadth too close together. Seeing them in front of one another, there was an immediate contrast between this officer and Kolya – all of Nikita’s men. Kolya and the others were lean, and muscled, and hard, even young Pyotr, his cheeks windburned and sharp. Underfed, hungry, watchful and wary, they spoke to Sasha of woodland predators, strong, tough, wild things, who killed when they needed to, intelligence flashing in their carefully-hooded eyes.

But this man was doughy and soft, a city-dweller through and through, one who was confident and comfortable in his position. And that was when Sasha knew that his new flatmates were indeed secret Whites: they were nervous, on-edge always, even when asleep, even when joking and eating. But this man had no such nervousness, self-assured, his smile reptilian and satisfied. He looked like someone who hoped to catch his colleague in a trap, and suddenly, inexplicably, Sasha was nervousfor Kolya.

“Commander Beria,” Kolya said, tone cool and flat.

“Your trip went well?” the man, Beria, said.

Kolya nodded. “Yes. Very well.”

Sasha saw, and felt the man’s eyes flick up to him, touching his face with a moment of cold, calculating precision, before his gaze returned to Kolya. “You brought someone back with you.”

“Those were our orders.”

“Introduce me.”

“That I can’t do.”

The man’s eyes flashed. “What?”

“Our orders come directly from theVozhdon this assignment, Commander. You can take it up with him. If you’ll excuse us…” And he resumed walking down the alley, leaving Beria, now furious, behind.

“Come on,” Ivan muttered, free hand closing on Sasha’s arm, and he all but pushed him past the three other Chekists.

“Good morning, Commander,” Feliks said behind them as they passed.

When they were well away, Sasha whispered, “What was all that?”

Ivan shook his head and wouldn’t answer, expression grim.

The buildings on either side of them were made of dark stone, the walls studded with cinched-tight steel roll-top windows and black-painted doors. Sasha expected them to go through the double doors at the end of the alley with the official-looking sign posted over the top, but instead Kolya ducked to the left and let them through a narrow red door that fed directly into a concrete staircase that seemed to go up, and up, and up. When Feliks shut the door behind them, the light was cut off, the latch sliding back into place with a decisiveclick.

“Where are we?” Sasha asked, not really expecting an answer.

But Ivan said, “Our private offices. We’re very important people around here, don’t you know.”

“As important as Commander Beria?”

There was just enough light to see Ivan’s slanted, smirking look. “Careful, pup.”

“Right.”

The light grew brighter, and then the stairs leveled off at the top to reveal a wide open space – the sight of which hit Sasha like a physical presence, halting him on the top step, hand reaching reflexively for the bit of iron railing there. Before him stretched a loft, the top floor of a warehouse with soaring ceilings, exposed steel beams and girders, rivets, and vents. Ten tall, arched windows marched down the far wall, pouring in pale winter sunlight across rough board floors. Open, and bright, and full of echoes, like a cathedral.

The furniture seemed too-small: a cluster of tidy desks and telephones, a low table cluttered with mugs. A blue china teapot sat perched atop a stove in one corner. In another, there were dumbbells, barbells, and a sand-filled punching bag suspended from the ceiling.

He found it indescribably lovely.

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