secret project.’
‘And what did you plan on doing with it when you finished?’
‘Exactly what I’m doing now,’ he answered. ‘Making sure that the Webley is returned to its proper owner.’
‘So you didn’t believe the stories, either?’
‘About Pekkala’s death?’ Lazarev waved a hand through the air, as if to brush away the words he had just spoken. ‘The day they can find a way to kill the Inspector, I’ll hang up this coat and go home.’
‘I will hand this to him personally,’ said Kirov, tucking the gun inside his tunic, ‘and it won’t leave my sight until then.’ He turned to leave.
‘You are forgetting something, Major.’
Kirov spun around. ‘I am?’
Lazarev slid a fist-sized cardboard box across the counter. A dog-eared paper label, written in English, listed the contents as fifty rounds of Mark VI .455 Revolver ammunition, dated 1939 and manufactured by the Birmingham Small Arms factory. ‘Bullets for the Webley,’ he explained.
‘Where on earth did you find these?’ asked Kirov.
‘The British Ambassador here in Moscow had a rather expensive shotgun made by James Woodward on which the side-lock ejector had broken. Stalin himself referred the Ambassador to me, in order to see if the gun could be repaired. When I had completed the work, the Ambassador offered to pay me, but this,’ he tapped the box of bullets, ‘is what I asked for instead. You can tell Pekkala that there are plenty more where these came from. Now,’ Lazarev held out his hand, palm up, like a man looking to be paid, ‘before you leave, let’s have a look at your own gun, Major Kirov.’
Kirov did as he was told, removing the Tokarev from its leather holster and handing it to Lazarev.
With none of the reverence he had shown to Pekkala’s Webley, Lazarev took hold of the weapon. With movements so fast that they were hard to follow, he disassembled the Tokarev and laid it out in front of him. Over the next few minutes, Lazarev inspected the barrel to check for pitting, tested the recoil spring, the trigger and the magazine. Satisfied, he reassembled the gun and returned it to Kirov. ‘Good,’ said Lazarev.
‘I’m glad you approve,’ replied Kirov.
‘I expect you’ll need that where you’re going. And I hope for your sake that you’re right about one thing if you do ever find Pekkala.’
‘What is that, Lazarev?’
‘That the Emerald Eye wants to be found.’
Letter forwarded July 16th, 1937 by Samuel Hayes, clerk at US Embassy Moscow, to poste-restante Gotland, Sweden, awaiting arrival of yacht ‘Sea Cloud’ on extended tour of Baltic region.
Letter arrived Gotland August 2nd, 1937.
Forwarded to Grand Hotel, Oslo, August 10th.
Forwarded to Hotel Rondane, Bergen, September 1st.
September 30th, 1937, Hirtshals, Denmark. Yacht ‘Sea Cloud’. Memo from Joseph Davies, US Ambassador to Moscow, to Secretary Samuel Hayes, Moscow.
The Ambassador has no comment on the matter of the arrest of William Vasko or on the numerous other arrests of American citizens which have allegedly taken place in recent weeks. He is confident that any arrests are the result of crimes committed and confident, also, that the Soviet authorities were acting within their legal jurisdiction in these cases. Said authorities will process these criminals according to their own judicial system, at which time said authorities will notify the Embassy. Until such time, no action should be taken that could impede the forward momentum of US–Soviet relations.
Signed, p/p for Joseph Davies, Ambassador
Before leaving NKVD headquarters, Kirov climbed up to the fourth floor, where he found Elizaveta, Sergeant Gatkina and Corporal Korolenko in the fire-bucket room, just sitting down to tea.
Sergeant Gatkina slapped her hand upon the empty crate beside her. ‘Perfect timing, Major,’
‘I have some good news,’ announced Kirov, as he took his place upon the rough wooden seat.
‘A promotion, I hope,’ said
‘And what did you plan on doing with it when you finished?’
‘Exactly what I’m doing now,’ he answered. ‘Making sure that the Webley is returned to its proper owner.’
‘So you didn’t believe the stories, either?’
‘About Pekkala’s death?’ Lazarev waved a hand through the air, as if to brush away the words he had just spoken. ‘The day they can find a way to kill the Inspector, I’ll hang up this coat and go home.’
‘I will hand this to him personally,’ said Kirov, tucking the gun inside his tunic, ‘and it won’t leave my sight until then.’ He turned to leave.
‘You are forgetting something, Major.’
Kirov spun around. ‘I am?’
Lazarev slid a fist-sized cardboard box across the counter. A dog-eared paper label, written in English, listed the contents as fifty rounds of Mark VI .455 Revolver ammunition, dated 1939 and manufactured by the Birmingham Small Arms factory. ‘Bullets for the Webley,’ he explained.
‘Where on earth did you find these?’ asked Kirov.
‘The British Ambassador here in Moscow had a rather expensive shotgun made by James Woodward on which the side-lock ejector had broken. Stalin himself referred the Ambassador to me, in order to see if the gun could be repaired. When I had completed the work, the Ambassador offered to pay me, but this,’ he tapped the box of bullets, ‘is what I asked for instead. You can tell Pekkala that there are plenty more where these came from. Now,’ Lazarev held out his hand, palm up, like a man looking to be paid, ‘before you leave, let’s have a look at your own gun, Major Kirov.’
Kirov did as he was told, removing the Tokarev from its leather holster and handing it to Lazarev.
With none of the reverence he had shown to Pekkala’s Webley, Lazarev took hold of the weapon. With movements so fast that they were hard to follow, he disassembled the Tokarev and laid it out in front of him. Over the next few minutes, Lazarev inspected the barrel to check for pitting, tested the recoil spring, the trigger and the magazine. Satisfied, he reassembled the gun and returned it to Kirov. ‘Good,’ said Lazarev.
‘I’m glad you approve,’ replied Kirov.
‘I expect you’ll need that where you’re going. And I hope for your sake that you’re right about one thing if you do ever find Pekkala.’
‘What is that, Lazarev?’
‘That the Emerald Eye wants to be found.’
Letter forwarded July 16th, 1937 by Samuel Hayes, clerk at US Embassy Moscow, to poste-restante Gotland, Sweden, awaiting arrival of yacht ‘Sea Cloud’ on extended tour of Baltic region.
Letter arrived Gotland August 2nd, 1937.
Forwarded to Grand Hotel, Oslo, August 10th.
Forwarded to Hotel Rondane, Bergen, September 1st.
September 30th, 1937, Hirtshals, Denmark. Yacht ‘Sea Cloud’. Memo from Joseph Davies, US Ambassador to Moscow, to Secretary Samuel Hayes, Moscow.
The Ambassador has no comment on the matter of the arrest of William Vasko or on the numerous other arrests of American citizens which have allegedly taken place in recent weeks. He is confident that any arrests are the result of crimes committed and confident, also, that the Soviet authorities were acting within their legal jurisdiction in these cases. Said authorities will process these criminals according to their own judicial system, at which time said authorities will notify the Embassy. Until such time, no action should be taken that could impede the forward momentum of US–Soviet relations.
Signed, p/p for Joseph Davies, Ambassador
Before leaving NKVD headquarters, Kirov climbed up to the fourth floor, where he found Elizaveta, Sergeant Gatkina and Corporal Korolenko in the fire-bucket room, just sitting down to tea.
Sergeant Gatkina slapped her hand upon the empty crate beside her. ‘Perfect timing, Major,’
‘I have some good news,’ announced Kirov, as he took his place upon the rough wooden seat.
‘A promotion, I hope,’ said
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