cross-referencing system, though improved, had not caught it.
Lazenby looked at the sheet of paper handed to him.
ON FOOT THROUGH SIBERIA
Captain Willoughby Devereaux
London 1862 [Extract, p.194]
The water, enclosed in a basin of black basalt, has from a distance the appearance of ink, but is perfectly clear and in fact the purest in the area. It is known locally as Tcherny Vodi (dark waters) but I preferred the homelier appellation of Blackpool; and at Blackpool I camped for some days before returning the thirty miles to Zelyony Mys (Green Cape) .
‘Here’s Green Cape,’ Hendricks said, unfolding a further section of map. ‘It’s a port, on the Kolyma river, exactly thirty miles from the lake. That’s how Rogachev’s cigarettes came out.’
Lazenby looked from the map back to the prints.
‘You think this is what he’s trying to get out?’ he said.
‘No. I don’t. What would be so secret about it?’
‘This isn’t startling enough for you?’
‘Yes, it’s startling. But more startling is why they’ve kept quiet about it for so many years. Also where it’s going on. Would you experiment with apes in a place like this?’
‘Well, the Arctic isn’t their environment,’ Lazenby said.
‘Right. It isn’t. And this isn’t just the Arctic. It’s the most secret place they have – the remotest, the least accessible. There’s hardly any information on it. On this place itself there’s none. We knew nothing about it. Now that’s startling. It’s disturbing. We’re pretty well up on Russian science. People change jobs, news gets around. But nobody has changed jobs here. That is, if you get a job here you evidentlydon’t leave. And work has been going on in it for a long, long time, we can see that. Which raises another long-time question. What do you know of a fellow called Zhelikov?’
Lazenby looked at him. ‘Zhelikov the geneticist?’
‘That’s right. L. V. Zhelikov.’
‘Well, I knew of him. Who didn’t? He was the favoured student of Pavlov, the dog man. He’ll have been dead, what – thirty, forty years?’
‘Nobody knows when he did die. They didn’t tell anybody. We think because he died here. We think this was his place, and Rogachev took over from him. Which would make it about seventeen years ago. You’re right that Zhelikov went out of circulation some forty years ago. He was in a camp then, in the fifties. We think they let him out and offered him this, and he took it. Rogachev was in the same camp with him. Did you know that?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Well, he was. They knew each other. Anyway, this place was here when Zhelikov arrived. At least forty years ago, and probably established a lot longer. After all, they wouldn’t have sent a guy of his class up to Siberia to start something going there. Something must already have been going, probably involving animals, since that was his field. But not just animals. Animal work isn’t secret. This is secret. It’s very secret – they’ve put it in their most secret place. So yes, the pictures are startling. But more startling is what else is going on there. And why he’s trying so hard to tell us about it.’
They looked at each other for some moments.
Philpott discreetly collected the papers and returned them to the briefcase. He took another one out.
‘We need your help,’ Hendricks said.
‘Well, anything I can do, of course – although exactly what −’
‘Would you go on a trip for us?’
Lazenby stared at him, and his mouth dropped open.
‘No, not Siberia.’ Hendricks’s own small mouth curvedwryly. ‘Somewhere else. We think we’ve traced the young man you mention.’ He held a hand out and Philpott placed an enlarged photo in it. ‘Would he look anything like this?’
Lazenby gazed at the photo. The young Asiatic of his nightmare evening stared sullenly back. Broad, high cheekbones, eyes glowering from under a heavy fringe of hair.
‘Well – that is
Lazenby looked at the sheet of paper handed to him.
ON FOOT THROUGH SIBERIA
Captain Willoughby Devereaux
London 1862 [Extract, p.194]
The water, enclosed in a basin of black basalt, has from a distance the appearance of ink, but is perfectly clear and in fact the purest in the area. It is known locally as Tcherny Vodi (dark waters) but I preferred the homelier appellation of Blackpool; and at Blackpool I camped for some days before returning the thirty miles to Zelyony Mys (Green Cape) .
‘Here’s Green Cape,’ Hendricks said, unfolding a further section of map. ‘It’s a port, on the Kolyma river, exactly thirty miles from the lake. That’s how Rogachev’s cigarettes came out.’
Lazenby looked from the map back to the prints.
‘You think this is what he’s trying to get out?’ he said.
‘No. I don’t. What would be so secret about it?’
‘This isn’t startling enough for you?’
‘Yes, it’s startling. But more startling is why they’ve kept quiet about it for so many years. Also where it’s going on. Would you experiment with apes in a place like this?’
‘Well, the Arctic isn’t their environment,’ Lazenby said.
‘Right. It isn’t. And this isn’t just the Arctic. It’s the most secret place they have – the remotest, the least accessible. There’s hardly any information on it. On this place itself there’s none. We knew nothing about it. Now that’s startling. It’s disturbing. We’re pretty well up on Russian science. People change jobs, news gets around. But nobody has changed jobs here. That is, if you get a job here you evidentlydon’t leave. And work has been going on in it for a long, long time, we can see that. Which raises another long-time question. What do you know of a fellow called Zhelikov?’
Lazenby looked at him. ‘Zhelikov the geneticist?’
‘That’s right. L. V. Zhelikov.’
‘Well, I knew of him. Who didn’t? He was the favoured student of Pavlov, the dog man. He’ll have been dead, what – thirty, forty years?’
‘Nobody knows when he did die. They didn’t tell anybody. We think because he died here. We think this was his place, and Rogachev took over from him. Which would make it about seventeen years ago. You’re right that Zhelikov went out of circulation some forty years ago. He was in a camp then, in the fifties. We think they let him out and offered him this, and he took it. Rogachev was in the same camp with him. Did you know that?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Well, he was. They knew each other. Anyway, this place was here when Zhelikov arrived. At least forty years ago, and probably established a lot longer. After all, they wouldn’t have sent a guy of his class up to Siberia to start something going there. Something must already have been going, probably involving animals, since that was his field. But not just animals. Animal work isn’t secret. This is secret. It’s very secret – they’ve put it in their most secret place. So yes, the pictures are startling. But more startling is what else is going on there. And why he’s trying so hard to tell us about it.’
They looked at each other for some moments.
Philpott discreetly collected the papers and returned them to the briefcase. He took another one out.
‘We need your help,’ Hendricks said.
‘Well, anything I can do, of course – although exactly what −’
‘Would you go on a trip for us?’
Lazenby stared at him, and his mouth dropped open.
‘No, not Siberia.’ Hendricks’s own small mouth curvedwryly. ‘Somewhere else. We think we’ve traced the young man you mention.’ He held a hand out and Philpott placed an enlarged photo in it. ‘Would he look anything like this?’
Lazenby gazed at the photo. The young Asiatic of his nightmare evening stared sullenly back. Broad, high cheekbones, eyes glowering from under a heavy fringe of hair.
‘Well – that is
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