Day of the Long Knives, page 14
‘God’s nails. This is a nightmare.’
‘Yes. Chikradza says he’s got enough men to take control of the bridges over the River Kuban and all the suburbs to the south.’
Nina instinctively looked around to make sure nobody was listening. She leaned towards Orbeliani. ‘He’s talking about civil war.’
‘Yes.’
‘We have to call this rally off.’
‘It’s too late.’
‘There must be something we can do.’
‘You must have lots of stewards.’
‘Of course.’
‘Well,’ said Orbeliani, ‘we have to make sure our stewards know there’s going to be a provocation, and they have to do everything they can to prevent a violent response.’
‘Agreed. Why don’t you get in touch with Lionidza? He’s pretty sensible about things like that. I’ll try to get the students and the unions onside. The one who scares me is Kakhi. There’s nothing that mad cretin would like more than a rematch of April the twenty-fifth.’
*
Two uniformed officers came into Ruslan’s cell and threw his clothes at him. ‘Put these on.’
‘What’s happening?’
‘You’ll see.’
Once he was dressed, they took him up to the ground floor, where they handcuffed him to one of their number and took him outside for the first time in over two weeks.
He blinked in the midday sunshine. ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘You’ll see.’
The Security Police led him to yet another black Volga and set off south through the city streets. They must be taking him home. Were they going to free him?
A thunderbolt struck him. What if they had noticed his crossed fingers and were planning to punish Tamara? He broke out into a cold sweat, closed his eyes and prayed frantically. Please God, please, not that. Anything but that. I don’t care if they kill me, but don’t let them hurt Tamara.
They pulled up outside his house.
‘Okay, Shanidza. Go and find yourself a donkey to fuck.’
They were setting him free.
He eased himself out, and the Volga and its escort sped off.
He walked up to his house. It seemed to be empty, but then the door opened and a young member of his staff called Sufiya stepped out, a distressed looking Shota in her arms.
‘Papa!’ Shota cried. ‘Want to go see Papa.’
Ruslan greeted Sufiya with four kisses and Shota clambered onto him.
‘Where’s Tamara?’
‘She’s at the demonstration.’
‘What demonstration?’
Sufiya smiled. ‘Calling for your release.’
‘Are you two here alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Haven’t you got any bodyguards?’
‘No. The Security Police came about ten minutes ago and made them leave.’
*
Korgayo, Korgayo, wadwaz, wadwaz (Korgay, Korgay, down, down).
The crowd was enormous and the din tremendous: slogans, whistles and drums, and empty pots and pans banged by the once prosperous housewives of Ronkoni. Lionidza wondered how many people there were. Kakhi said more than 350,000, but he was probably counting feet rather than heads. Even so, everyone agreed that it was bigger than April 25th last year, bigger even than the great mass rallies that had swept Korgay to power.
The sheer size of the demonstration gave Lionidza a real buzz, a sense of excitement and confidence that smothered his feelings of dread.
Korgayo, Korgayo, wadwaz, wadwaz.
Korgayo, Korgayo, wadwaz, wadwaz.
How the people hated him now.
Ruslanis Shanidzis muka’dagodi (Free Ruslan Shanidza).
Lionidza still wasn’t used to demonstrations. He didn’t understand how the crowd’s slogan could suddenly change like that. The whole thing seemed to be completely random.
Ruslanis Shanidzis muka’dagodi.
Nobody shouted this with more fervour than the woman marching next to him, right at the head of the demonstration. It was Tamara, her arms linked to Lionidza on one side and Nina Begishveli, of all people, on the other.
Lionidza had given very specific instructions to a group of his burliest supporters just a few rows behind. If violence broke out, they were to take hold of Tamara and escort her to safety at once.
Ksordia maka Korgaytan tad (Ksordia hungry with Korgay).
Ksordia maka Korgaytan tad.
The slogan had changed again.
Then, beneath the noise of the demonstration, Lionidza thought he heard music. At first, he ignored it, until he realised it was a mobile phone. It certainly wasn’t his: he abominated the things.
‘Tamara, is that your mobile?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Is that your mobile phone?’
Tamara could just make it out. ‘Oh God, yes.’ She fumbled in her bag and brought out her Nokia 101. She put it to one ear, her finger in the other. Then she stopped walking, doubled up and crouched down.
The front ranks of demonstrators came to a halt.
‘Ruslan!’
Everyone around her went quiet.
‘Ruslan, are you okay?...No, I’m fine...It’s all right, my love, I’m fine...They didn’t lay a finger on me...There’s nothing to forgive...Ruslan? Ruslan? Oh, God’s nails, I’ve lost the signal.’
She looked up at Lionidza and Nina, tears in her eyes.
‘He’s home. They’ve freed him.’
The news rippled back through the crowd, followed by a great wave of cheering.
Tamara stood up.
‘I’ll take you home,’ said Lionidza.
‘No,’ said Tamara. ‘You’re needed here.’
‘Okay, I’ll get my bodyguards to take you.’
And so, Tamara left the demonstration, hurrying off down a side street with Lionidza’s toughs. One of them used his mobile to call up a converted UAZ ambulance, which drove Tamara south, away from the noise of the demonstration. Here and there, she saw Zil and Ural lorries full of grey-uniformed policemen, and down one street, she thought she saw what looked like military lorries.
She tried to phone home time and time again, but either she lost the signal before she finished dialling or else the line was engaged. Once her own phone rang, but all she heard was Ruslan’s voice saying her name and then the signal went again. She didn’t get through to him properly until they were less than half a kilometre from her house.
‘Ruslan?’
‘Hi, Tamara. Got you at last.’
‘I’m on my way now. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.’
‘Bring some bodyguards. I haven’t got any.’
The signal went again.
‘God’s teeth,’ said Tamara. ‘These things are useless.’
*
Korgayo, Korgayo, wadwaz, wadwaz.
‘I can’t understand it,’ Lionidza yelled into Nina’s ear. ‘Why would he release Ruslan now?’
‘I know, it’s very odd.’
‘Korgay never does anything without a reason. He’s up to something.’
‘Yes, the question is: what?’
Lionidza’s confidence had by now evaporated: ‘I have a very bad feeling about this.’
Chapter Sixteen
THE SECURITY Police halted Tamara some 200 metres from her house. They said she could continue on foot and alone, but her bodyguards would have to leave the area. Lionidza’s men had strict orders not to let her out of their sight, but she was insistent. She had to be with her husband.
There were dozens of uniformed Security Policemen all along her route, standing smoking by their black Volgas, blocking the pavements and forcing Tamara to walk in the middle of the street. They leered at her silently as she walked past.
She reached the end of the cul-de-sac. The door opened and Ruslan stepped out, Shota in his strong right arm.
Shota wriggled and Ruslan let him down. He ran up to Tamara. ‘Papa’s home.’
‘Yes, poppet.’
Tamara ruffled his hair and embraced Ruslan.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
‘Let’s go inside, away from those goons.’
*
Lionidza stood at the back of the temporary platform and listened as Nina Begishveli pointed out the riot policemen skulking behind the tail end of the crowd.
‘There aren’t enough of them,’ she told him. ‘I’ve spoken at God knows how many rallies, all of them smaller than this one. But there have always been more riot police on duty than today.’
The crowd applauded a union leader who had just finished speaking, and Orbeliani, who was acting as master of ceremonies, announced that Nina would be next to speak. Everyone applauded.
Lionidza caught her arm. ‘For God’s sake calm them down.’
‘Don’t worry, Sergo, I’m just as scared as you are.’
That was the first time she had ever called him by his first name.
*
‘Where are the bodyguards?’ Tamara asked.
‘They made them leave before I got here,’ said Ruslan, speaking Russian so that Shota wouldn’t understand.
A shiver ran through Tamara. Had she just walked into a trap?
Ruslan was obviously thinking the same thing: ‘We need to get out of here.’
‘We can’t go out the front.’
‘Let’s go out the back.’
‘They’ll see us. They’re in one of the houses at the back.’
‘We can slip past them if we run.’
‘Are you in a fit state to run?’
‘What choice have we got?’
‘We could barricade ourselves in one of the rooms upstairs and phone Provisional Radio. They said they’d put me live on air if I was in danger. I’ve got the number.’
Ruslan thought for a moment and then nodded. ‘Okay, let’s do that.’
Tamara handed her mobile to Ruslan. He turned it on. ‘Blood and damnation, there’s no signal. We’ll have to use the landline.’
‘We can’t. They disconnected us when they arrested you.’
‘My mobile’s upstairs,’ said Sufiya. ‘You might be able to get a signal on that.’
They rushed up to the living room, where Sufiya retrieved her mobile.
No signal.
Just at that moment, there was a crash on the door downstairs. It was the Security Police.
Shota started to screech.
‘He’s really scared of them,’ said Tamara.
Ruslan handed Tamara’s mobile back to her. ‘You two, take Shota and barricade yourselves in a bedroom. It’s me they want.’
Tamara stared at him in horror.
More crashes came from downstairs.
‘Go!’
Tamara shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Tamara, save Shota. Just go. Sufiya, take her.’
Sufiya yanked at Tamara’s arm. She allowed herself to be pulled backward, staring in horror at Ruslan.
‘Go. Hurry up.’
She turned round, and she and Sufiya headed for the living-room door.
But it was too late.
The Security Police had reached the top of the stairs.
Shota screamed as half a dozen of them burst into the room, pistols drawn. Tamara recognised their leader, he of the eyebrows, accompanied by another plain-clothes officer and four in uniform.
She expected to be shot dead that very minute, but instead, they just confiscated her and Sufiya’s mobile phones. Their leader left two men to keep an eye on them while the others ransacked the house.
Tamara did what she could to calm her terrified child.
Within minutes she heard them say they had found two of the mobile phones hidden around the house.
‘I bet they’re clearing the way for Mingrelsky to come and kill us,’ she told Ruslan in English. ‘That’s why they want my mobiles. We should have a few minutes between them leaving and him arriving.’
‘We need to think what to do.’
‘Stop speaking English, you two,’ said one of the Security Police.
Tamara ignored them. ‘We can borrow a mobile from the neighbours and barricade ourselves upstairs.’
Ruslan nodded.
Just then, the colonel with the eyebrows stormed back into the room. He made straight for Tamara. Ruslan placed himself between them.
The two uniformed operatives leapt on Ruslan and wrestled him to the ground.
Shota shrieked and covered his eyes.
The colonel grabbed the front of Tamara’s top and shoved her against the wall.
‘There’s another one,’ he shouted. ‘Where is it?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Don’t fuck me about, or I’ll beat it out of you. We’ve found your mobile phones in the kitchen and bathroom. Where’s the other one?’
‘I’ll show you, but stop frightening my little boy.’
He let go of Tamara, and she led him up the stairs to her bedroom, Shota whimpering and covering his eyes in terror.
She pointed to the far side of the bed. ‘I taped it under there.’
Captain Eyebrows nodded, and one of his men went and crouched down by the bed, his hand feeling until he found the mobile phone. ‘Got it,’ he said. He yanked it out and threw it to his commander.
‘Right. Downstairs.’
As they opened the door to the living room, Tamara noticed the sweet chemical smell of chloroform.
Chloroform?
Inside the room, the smell was almost overpowering. Ruslan and Sufiya were lying unconscious on the floor, three Security Policemen standing over them.
Another operative grabbed Tamara from behind, and one of the three took out a small bottle and poured chloroform onto a cloth. With one hand, he took hold of Tamara’s hair. With the other, he covered her mouth and nose with the cloth.
Tamara held her breath as soon as she realised what he was about to do. At the same time, she held onto the struggling, screaming Shota.
What to do? What to do? She couldn’t hold her breath forever.
She had to pretend to fall unconscious. That was the only way.
She let Shota slip to the floor.
He dug his nails hard into Tamara’s arms. It was difficult not to scream with the pain of it, but she knew that if she breathed in once, she would be lost. She was already feeling giddy.
Oh God, she was going under.
She made her body go limp, and they removed the cloth from her mouth. One of the Security Policemen slapped her across the face, but she was too far gone to react. The pain felt very distant, their voices and Shota’s screams far away.
They let go of her, and she slumped to the floor, still holding her breath with grim determination.
‘What about the kid?’ she heard one of them say.
‘Leave him. Come on, let’s go.’
Tamara heard their footsteps echo in the distance. From somewhere she heard Shota’s frenzied voice: ‘Mama! Mama! Wake up, Mama!’
Then came a noise half-way between a sigh and a scream. Tamara realised that it came from herself. She had started to breathe again, and this made her fall further towards unconsciousness.
Of course, there was chloroform around her nose and mouth.
She held her breath again and somehow managed to get to her feet. Shota grabbed hold of her leg but Tamara shook him off. She staggered towards the kitchen. It was like lurching into a vortex, the air grinding noisily as it went round and round in front of her.
She turned on the tap and splashed water onto her face, feeling nothing but a slight sensation of cold around the temples. She splashed more and more, frantically washing the chloroform away from her nose and mouth.
The air stopped spinning and she began to breathe again, gasping, out of breath.
Shota had his arm round her leg. He was crying hysterically.
Tamara picked him up. She would have to be quick.
‘Come on, let’s go.’
She hurried downstairs. The front door was open. Its lock had been smashed. Tamara ran outside. All the Security Police had disappeared.
She hurried over the road to the house of the frightened couple. She saw them watching through their living-room window.
She hammered on the door. ‘Please! I’m desperate!’
‘Go away,’ the man’s voice said.
‘Just take my little boy and give me your mobile phone. Then I’ll go away.’
A few seconds later, the door opened. Tamara tried to give Shota to the husband, but he hung onto her and almost fell to the floor.
‘Stay with Mama! Stay with Mama!’
Tamara pushed him away from her and grabbed the mobile phone from the wife. She ran back into the house, shutting the bolt at the top of the front door.
She ran back upstairs to the living room. Ruslan and Sufiya were still unconscious.
She turned on the mobile phone. It seemed to take ages to get a signal.
She took the paper out with Provisional Radio’s number out of her pocket. Her hands were shaking so much that it took three attempts to dial the number. She pressed the ‘OK’ button and heard short tones with a longer pause between.
She sighed with relief. They weren’t engaged. Come on. Answer me for God’s sake.
‘Hello, Provisional Radio.’
‘Can I speak to the boss? It’s urgent, very urgent.’
‘He’s at the demonstration.’
‘Oh God. Look this is Ruslan Shanidza’s wife. He promised he’d put me live on air if I was in danger. Please, get me on air, quick.’
‘What’s happening?’
‘No time to explain. Just get me on air. For God’s sake, get me on air.’
‘Hold on.’
Come on come on come on. Hurry up.
‘Hello?’ Tamara recognised the voice at once. It was Tembot Ksansky, one of her favourite DJs.
‘Are we on air?’
‘Yes, and are you Tamara Shanidza?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s going on, Tamara?’
‘They’re coming to kill us.’
Ksansky was silent.
‘Hello,’ she said, ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes, sorry. Who’s coming to kill you?’
‘I don’t know. Probably Vakhtan Mingrelsky. The Security Police have set it up. They’ve left us here alone and they’ve knocked Ruslan out with chloroform.’
