Page 60 of Last Violent Call
“We are only refueling. You do not have to worry.”
Vodin waved for Benedikt to take a step back, looking concerned at the combative stance he had adopted. They had practically ambushed the officer as soon as he walked through the door. Benedikt shuffled slightly, inhaling deeply so he could lower his voice a sensible amount. Marshall squeezed his elbow, noting his tension. They stood in the passageway of the last soft-class carriage, right beside the guarded door that led into hard-class. In the search for answers, Benedikt had charged through all the carriages looking for Vodin, only to be stopped at the barrier by the attendant and told that he was speaking to the officers at the rear. Since those officers couldn’t come forward, only Vodin received signal communication from the engineer driving the train at the front in the locomotive cab.
“But the doors need to remainclosed,” Benedikt emphasized. “The moment this train stops, it is an opportunity for escape.”
Right on cue, the train came to a complete halt, pulling up to Novosibirsk-Glavny Station. A whistle of steam howled into the night. Since one of the nearby compartments had its door propped open—its passenger napping casually on the bed with no care for the conversation in the passageway—Benedikt could see flashes of the station through the compartment window. A few streetlamps lit the night scene. The station’s turquoise green walls were an imposing sight, bright alongside the mounds of winter snow stacked at its sides.
It suddenly felt strange for the floor to be unmoving under his feet. He had gotten too used to the constant sensation of momentum. The world at rest felt like an unnatural state, some deviation from what was supposed to be routine.
“Don’t worry. The people at the station will handle the task at the locomotive, so there is no need for anyone to step foot outside the train. We will be in Novosibirsk for no longer than twenty minutes. Like I said, there is nothing to be concerned about.” Vodin looked around. “Where’s Lev?”
“Here!”
The boy scampered out from another compartment clutching a lined piece of paper in his hands. “I think that is everyone’s handwriting. We had a very pleasant chat about ink pens.”
“Did you now?” Vodin peered at the paper, giving an approving nod. “Be a dear and take my satchel from me, would you? My shoulder is getting quite weak.”
Lev hurried to ease the bag off his uncle’s left arm. Benedikt cast Marshall a quick look. He had been correct about his guess.
“All the samples are in there,” Vodin said. “The only one who wouldn’t offer one was… Lev, what was his name again?”
“Eduard Kozlov,” Lev supplied eagerly.
“Right, right. He was rather difficult about showing his shoes too. On this there was no answer at his door.”
“Maybe we will have more luck trying,” Marshall suggested. “Which is his compartment?”
Lev sidled closer to his side. “I can direct you there. I remember.”
“Yes, you do that, Lev.” Vodin was already gesturing for the attendant to step aside again so he could return to the hard-class carriages. “I have some further matters to sort out for hard-class, but keep yourselves busy. I will reconvene with you once the train is moving along.”
He pushed out of the carriage. Lev bounded into action, exclaiming, “Follow me!” and charging in the other direction.
“We only ever seem to have terrible luck on trains,” Benedikt muttered, meaning only for Marshall to hear his words.
“That’s not true,” Marshall replied brightly. “Our last trip into Zhouzhuang went perfectly fine.”
“Our last trip, for Roma’s birthday?” Benedikt asked, unsure if Marshall was being serious or pulling his leg. “In 1929? When our train halted on the Chinese Eastern Railway before our destination? Because the Soviet Red Armyhad started fighting the Chinese?”
Marshall winced. “It was a small skirmish. We transferred into Harbin smoothly.”
“The Soviets detained almost every Chinese person in the Russian Far East! We were this close to putting a bag over your head to hide you from view in case they asked for your papers!” Benedikt put both his hands on Marshall’s aforementioned head, steering him forward faster as they walked. “We all need to relocate before Sino-Soviet relations turn wholly foul and travel becomes unmanageable. I’m going to get early heart failure otherwise.”
“I feed us too many healthy meals for you to get early heart failure.”
At once, Benedikt moved his left hand so that it clapped overMarshall’s mouth instead, keeping him quiet as they proceeded into the third carriage. “Nonsense. I could be a medical marvel.”
“It’s this one,” Lev announced up ahead. He waited for Benedikt and Marshall, bouncing on his toes patiently in the middle of the carriage passageway. The floor remained stationary beneath them, but a low vibration was traveling along the carpet, shaking with the rumble of fuel being pumped into the engines.
Benedikt, becoming a professional again, removed his hand from Marshall’s mouth as they stopped outside Eduard Kozlov’s compartment. He straightened his posture. “Is Mr. Kozlov in there?”
“I think I hear something.” Lev pressed his ear to the door. He listened for a moment, only looking curious, but then his expression flashed into confusion. “Actually, I hear alotof rustling.”
“Mr. Kozlov, if we could have a moment of your time.” Marshall leaned forward to knock, his knuckles coming down on the compartment door. While he kept his tone nice, asking for cooperation, Benedikt mimicked Lev’s position and leaned closer to determine exactly what he was hearing.
It wasn’t just rustling. That sounded like the window being pushed back.
“Oh,shit.” Benedikt slammed his shoulder against the door without warning, scaring Lev and Marshall. “Stand back, stand back!”
