Klim and the two girls set off for the airport hotel while Oscar and Yefim went to the Soviet Consulate.

All this time, Oscar’s thoughts had been dwelling constantly on Nina. How could some commoner have managed to trick him into believing she was a baroness? He should have handed her over to the OGPU straight away instead of putting himself at risk, creating a jealous scene. If Nina had been just a little stronger, she could have smashed his skull with that starter handle.

It was clear from Elkin’s testimony that Nina Kupina was in Germany. What if she decided to go to the press and tell the newspapers about the private life of the famous Mr. Reich? It was essential he found Nina and got rid of her!

But it was no easy task to locate a young lady who had arrived in Germany on a false passport. In Moscow, all you had to do was go into some establishment and show your OGPU credentials, and immediately, you would find out everything you needed to know. But in Berlin, it was difficult even getting a list of guests from a hotel. And how many such hotels were there in this city with its population of millions?


The Soviet consul, a fussy, stout man with dark eyebrows, took Oscar and Yefim into an office with pale wooden walls.

“Take a look at the message that just came in,” he said.

He handed Oscar a diplomatic cable stating that on November 13, 1928, a dangerous criminal by the name of Klim Rogov—the husband and accomplice of Nina Kupina—had fled the USSR.

“But we were on the same plane with him!” cried Oscar and began to read the cable aloud: “Rogov is to be captured immediately and returned to the USSR. If it is impossible to take him alive, destroy him. His departure will demonstrate our utter defeat and constitute a serious blow to the reputation of the Soviet Union. Deploy all possible means to achieve this mission.”

“Our plane has broken down—otherwise, we could have ordered Friedrich to turn back,” muttered Yefim and turned to the consul. “We need to arrest Rogov immediately. How many free men do you have?”

The consul shook his head. “There’s no one I can call on.”

“There’ll be no end of trouble with the kids,” said Oscar, frowning. “Let’s get to Germany and seize him there. He’ll probably go straight to Kupina, so we can take the two of them together. Wire the envoy’s office in Berlin and have them send their men to the airport. Then we’ll take Kupina and Rogov to Hamburg and put them on a Soviet ship. They won’t get away from us after that.”

38. THE REICHSBANK

1

The plane circled the new airport of Tempelhof. Gazing out of the window, Klim saw a building stretching the length of the airfield and dozens of planes—some modern and some veteran fighter planes from the last war.

As it landed, the plane sped past aircraft hangars and towers with flags. When the plane’s engine had stopped, two servicemen in dark blue boiler suits wheeled up a sloping gangway.

Klim jumped down to the ground and took a deep breath of the cold air. Thank heaven they had arrived!

The freight handlers began to take the baggage out of the hold and load it onto trolleys.

“Goodbye!” Oscar waved to Klim and hurried toward the large glass doors of the airport building.

Yefim set off at a run, following him.

Klim took both girls by the hand. “How are you feeling?”

The girls were exhausted from the journey, but nonetheless, curiosity got the better of them. Tata stared wide-eyed at the technicians driving about the landing strip on motorized carts.

Klim went through passport control, and a customs officer checked his baggage.

“All in order, sir. Welcome to Berlin!”

Klim found a stand with a plan of the airport and located the taxi rank on the map.

“Here are some of my fellow Russians!” the exclamation came from a tall, fair-haired young man in a thick sweater and quilted pants who was bearing down on them. “Delighted to meet you. I’m Sergei. Can I take you anywhere? I have a taxi waiting just outside.” Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed Klim’s suitcases. “Come on. It’s just a step away. Are you from Moscow? I’m from Suzdal myself. My parents brought me to Berlin when I was just a little boy.”

Chatting and laughing, Sergei led them through to an empty passage between two hangars where a small yellow van stood waiting. It was emblazoned with a picture of a pike with staring eyes and the inscription “Fresh Fish” in Russian and German. Beside it stood a burly man with gold teeth, holding a tyre lever.

Klim looked around in alarm. This van was clearly not a taxi. Where had they been taken? Who were these people? Thieves?

Sergei, quite unperturbed, was securing Klim’s cases to the baggage rack.

“Take a seat, Mr. Rogov, please. Let’s go!”

And how on earth did this man know his name?

Klim picked up Kitty. “Tata, we’re going!”

But they had barely taken a step when Yefim came around the corner of one of the hangars, holding a revolver.

“Get into the car this minute!” he ordered quietly.

The two girls set up a terrified wail.

Sergei and Yefim sat Klim between them on the back seat. Tata was ordered to take Kitty and sit in the front next to the driver with the gold teeth.

“Where does Kupina live?” Sergei asked Klim.

Klim kept his head down and said nothing.

“Do you think we’re here to play games with you?” Sergei grabbed Klim by the shirtfront.

Klim pulled away, and a scuffle broke out. The children began to wail even louder. Then Yefim took a brass knuckleduster from his pocket and dealt Klim a blow to the back of the head, knocking him out.

2

Tata huddled in close to Kitty’s shoulder, which was shaking with sobs.

Who were their abductors? Tata thought. White Russian émigrés? Surely it had to be! Nobody else would be capable of such a vile act!

The van kept circling the streets aimlessly while the gangsters argued about whether they should head to some “envoy’s office” or drive to Hamburg.

Once, Tata plucked up the courage to look around. Uncle Klim was lying unconscious at the feet of their abductors. Good grief! Maybe he was dead already?

“How on earth will we find out Kupina’s address now?” Sergei asked Yefim angrily. “Who told you to knock him on the head?”

“You started it with your questions!”

“Quiet!” snapped the driver. “Make up your minds where we’re going.”

The abductors were silent for a minute.

“Let’s make for Hamburg,” said Yefim. “We’ll hand Rogov in there and work out what to do after that. In any case, we can’t take these kids into the envoy’s office. There’ll be no end of fuss.”

Trying to appear casual, Tata put out a hand to touch the lock on the door.

The car was traveling down an elegant street lined with tall buildings adorned with balconies and sculptures. All around, car horns sounded, and bicycle bells rang. Street merchants were selling newspapers, balloons and—oranges!

Suddenly, their road was blocked by a column of demonstrators. They were dressed in what looked like army uniforms: battered peaked caps and military trousers and belted tunics. The demonstrators kept clenching their fists and raising their right arms to the regular beat of a drum.

“Rot Front!” their cries echoed over the street.

“Oh my god! That’s the Union of Red Combatants!” Tata whispered. “The military division of the German Communist Party!”

The demonstrators had come to a stop, and it was impossible for cars to pass. The driver with the gold teeth stuck his head out of the window to see how long they would have to wait.

“Damn it all!” he cursed. “It looks like we’re stuck.”

At that moment, Tata tugged at the chrome door handle, and she and Kitty tumbled out onto the pavement.

“Run!” shouted Tata.

“Hey, stop!” yelled the driver. “Get back here this minute!”

He set off after them at a run, but the girls had already dashed ahead through the lines of demonstrators and soon outstripped him.

“We left Daddy behind!” Kitty kept sobbing, but Tata pulled her relentlessly through the crowds.

Breathless and tear-stained, they stopped before a strange building that looked like some ancient temple.

All around, Tata saw men and women dressed up to the nines looking like profiteers. All the signs were in German, and Tata couldn’t understand a word, even though she had learned German at school for several years.

Everything here was foreign and unfamiliar. A barrel organ grinder stood on the pavement, singing something in a nasal voice. Two soldiers in silly looking helmets were buying sausages from a street vendor. The only thing that reminded Tata of home was the pigeons fussing about in the gutter. But they were pecking at white bread! Who would toss away anything so delicious?

Kitty had not stopped wailing.

“Please try not to make so much noise!” Tata implored her.

She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the note that Uncle Klim had given her. He had told her that this address was a safe place for them. But where was it? And how would they get there? They were surrounded by Germans and could not even ask anyone the way.

An old man with whiskers carrying a bucket and a roll of paper under his arm went up to one of the advertising columns and began to paste up a poster decorated with a red star and the inscription “Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands.” Tata knew what those words meant: “The Communist Party of Germany.”