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Authors: Sam Eastland
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intensity.
What struck Pekkala was not how different the dead appeared but how much alike bodies became, no matter if they were man or woman, old or young, when the life had left their bodies. The same terrible stillness surrounded them, the same dull eyes and, eventually, the same piercing sweet smell. Some nights, he would wake with the stench of the dead flooding his nostrils. Staggering to the sink, he would wash his face and scrub his hands until the knuckles bled but still the smell remained, as if those corpses lay about the floor beside his bed.
Pekkala crouched down. Reaching out, he touched Nagorski’s fingertips, his own hand forming a reflection ofthe one which lay submerged beneath the muddy water. The image of Nagorski returned to him, blustery and sweating in the interrogation room of the Lubyanka jail. There had seemed to be something indestructible about him. Now Pekkala felt the cold skin of the dead man radiating up through his arm, as if his own life were being drained out through his pores. He pulled his hand away and rose to his feet, thoughts already turning to the work that lay ahead. ‘Who are you two?’ he asked the men.
‘I am Professor Ushinsky,’ explained the one with the grey hair, ‘responsible for developing armaments here at the facility. And this,’ he gestured to the man in the brown coat, ‘is Professor Gorenko.’
‘I am the drive train specialist,’ explained Gorenko. He kept his hands inside his pockets. His shoulders were trembling with the cold.
‘How did this happen?’ asked Pekkala.
‘We aren’t sure.’ Gorenko tried to wipe some of the mud from his coat but succeeded only in smearing it into the wool. ‘This morning, when we reported for work, Nagorski said he would be working on Number 3.’ With knuckles blue from cold, he rapped on the side of the tank. ‘This is Number 3,’ he said.
‘The Colonel said he would be working by himself,’ added Ushinsky.
‘Was that unusual?’
‘No,’ replied Ushinsky. ‘The Colonel often carried out tests on his own.’
‘Tests? You mean the tank is not finished yet?’
Both men shook their heads.
‘There are seven complete machines at the facility. Each one has been equipped with slightly different mechanisms, engine configurations and so on. They are constantly being tested and compared to each other. Eventually, we will standardise the pattern. Then the T-34 will go into mass production. Until then, the Colonel wanted to keep everything as secret as possible.’
‘Even from you?’
‘From everyone, Inspector,’ replied Gorenko. ‘Without exception.’
‘At what point did you realise that something had gone wrong?’
‘When I stepped outside the main assembly plant.’ Ushinsky nodded towards the largest of the facility buildings. ‘We call it the Iron House. It’s where all the parts for the tanks are stored. There’s so much metal in there, I’m surprised the whole structure hasn’t sunk beneath the ground. Before I went outside, I’d been working on the final drive mechanism. The single straight reduction gears have armoured mountings at each side of the tail …’
As if he could not help himself, Gorenko’s hands drifted up to the chest of his coat and began scraping once more at the mud embedded in the cloth.
‘Will you stop that!’ shouted Ushinsky.
‘It’s a brand-new coat,’ muttered Gorenko. ‘I only bought it yesterday.’
‘The boss is dead!’ Ushinsky grabbed Gorenko by the wrists and pulled his hands away. ‘Can’t you get that into your thick skull?’
Both men appeared to be in shock. Pekkala had seen behaviour like this many times before. ‘When did you realisethat something had gone wrong?’ he asked patiently, trying to steer them back on track.
‘I was out smoking my cigarette …’ said Ushinsky.
‘No smoking in the factory,’ interrupted Gorenko.
‘I can do this by myself!’ shouted Ushinsky, jabbing a finger against Gorenko’s chest.
Gorenko
What struck Pekkala was not how different the dead appeared but how much alike bodies became, no matter if they were man or woman, old or young, when the life had left their bodies. The same terrible stillness surrounded them, the same dull eyes and, eventually, the same piercing sweet smell. Some nights, he would wake with the stench of the dead flooding his nostrils. Staggering to the sink, he would wash his face and scrub his hands until the knuckles bled but still the smell remained, as if those corpses lay about the floor beside his bed.
Pekkala crouched down. Reaching out, he touched Nagorski’s fingertips, his own hand forming a reflection ofthe one which lay submerged beneath the muddy water. The image of Nagorski returned to him, blustery and sweating in the interrogation room of the Lubyanka jail. There had seemed to be something indestructible about him. Now Pekkala felt the cold skin of the dead man radiating up through his arm, as if his own life were being drained out through his pores. He pulled his hand away and rose to his feet, thoughts already turning to the work that lay ahead. ‘Who are you two?’ he asked the men.
‘I am Professor Ushinsky,’ explained the one with the grey hair, ‘responsible for developing armaments here at the facility. And this,’ he gestured to the man in the brown coat, ‘is Professor Gorenko.’
‘I am the drive train specialist,’ explained Gorenko. He kept his hands inside his pockets. His shoulders were trembling with the cold.
‘How did this happen?’ asked Pekkala.
‘We aren’t sure.’ Gorenko tried to wipe some of the mud from his coat but succeeded only in smearing it into the wool. ‘This morning, when we reported for work, Nagorski said he would be working on Number 3.’ With knuckles blue from cold, he rapped on the side of the tank. ‘This is Number 3,’ he said.
‘The Colonel said he would be working by himself,’ added Ushinsky.
‘Was that unusual?’
‘No,’ replied Ushinsky. ‘The Colonel often carried out tests on his own.’
‘Tests? You mean the tank is not finished yet?’
Both men shook their heads.
‘There are seven complete machines at the facility. Each one has been equipped with slightly different mechanisms, engine configurations and so on. They are constantly being tested and compared to each other. Eventually, we will standardise the pattern. Then the T-34 will go into mass production. Until then, the Colonel wanted to keep everything as secret as possible.’
‘Even from you?’
‘From everyone, Inspector,’ replied Gorenko. ‘Without exception.’
‘At what point did you realise that something had gone wrong?’
‘When I stepped outside the main assembly plant.’ Ushinsky nodded towards the largest of the facility buildings. ‘We call it the Iron House. It’s where all the parts for the tanks are stored. There’s so much metal in there, I’m surprised the whole structure hasn’t sunk beneath the ground. Before I went outside, I’d been working on the final drive mechanism. The single straight reduction gears have armoured mountings at each side of the tail …’
As if he could not help himself, Gorenko’s hands drifted up to the chest of his coat and began scraping once more at the mud embedded in the cloth.
‘Will you stop that!’ shouted Ushinsky.
‘It’s a brand-new coat,’ muttered Gorenko. ‘I only bought it yesterday.’
‘The boss is dead!’ Ushinsky grabbed Gorenko by the wrists and pulled his hands away. ‘Can’t you get that into your thick skull?’
Both men appeared to be in shock. Pekkala had seen behaviour like this many times before. ‘When did you realisethat something had gone wrong?’ he asked patiently, trying to steer them back on track.
‘I was out smoking my cigarette …’ said Ushinsky.
‘No smoking in the factory,’ interrupted Gorenko.
‘I can do this by myself!’ shouted Ushinsky, jabbing a finger against Gorenko’s chest.
Gorenko
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