The route Illya planned out of Novgorod would take them towards the Russian side of the border with Finland but at one point it would be necessary for them to abandon the car.
He knew enough about the landscape to expect it to transition from thick pine and birch forests to fields that lay fallow, over to marshland and back into primeval forests. Those places were little traveled as they were ripe with dangers, both natural and unnatural. The woods were filled with wolves, bears and border patrols with their attack dogs.
They would not only have to be wary of any patrols but also of moose. It was hunting season, and the animals would be agitated and often on the move. They could be even more dangerous and unpredictable than the other wildlife hiding there in the primordial forests.
Like a river of black top, the road formed the main street of town after town of once beautiful, but now teetering wooden peasant homes, built i in the old style before the revolution. Periodically, along the roadside, women wearing their babushka kerchiefs sat selling pickled beets and potatoes, pots of steaming coffee, folk dolls, displaying their wares from beneath rickety lean-tos.
Here in the country it was less likely to get caught selling illegal or black market goods by the secret police as sit seemed the residents of the cities and more industrial areas suffered that indignity more often.
As he drove the Pobeda,the pavement became choppier, the chill heavier, and the shoulder of the road was covered on both sides with trash, and other human detritus.
No one came to clean it up, as no one cared.
All the while traveling through this scenery, Illya continually looked in the rearview mirror. His instincts told him they were being followed, yet he saw nothing, and he tried to put it off to nerves. Though there was no one in sight, he remained more on edge than usual, despite his best efforts at ignoring his premonition; it crept beneath his skin like an annoying itch.
They continued along the motorway, making a stop at Chudovo and again at Lyuban, all for the sake of Nada and the baby. Finally, the last leg of their journey began as they headed to Kirovsk. There Illya planned to leave the Pobeda and make their way on foot, crossing the Neva river by the stark concrete Ladozhsky Bridge. It was the uppermost bridge spanning the Neva River, leading to part of Murmansk Highway and finally to the Oreshek Fortress some 15 km away.
The walk would have taken the average person three hours or so, but with the woman and child, it would take longer. Illya felt it wise to hide the car outside of Kirovsk, and not take it to the fortress where it would sit in plain sight and perhaps draw unwanted attention to any passersby.
After many rest stops, and taking turns carrying Grisha, they finally reached the bridge and their last leg of this part of their journey. There at the fortress of Oreshek they would rest for the night before heading out across the Karelian Isthmus to get to the border. That would be the most dangerous part of their journey
They reached Kirovsk by nightfall, and he parked the small car off the road in some thick trees and bushes, leaving it safely out of sight, after which they began their trek in darkness, with the pavement of the highway as their guide. When headlights became visible, in their direction, they duck into the line of trees for cover. Three adults and a baby walking along the Murmansk Highway in the dark of night would alert anyone's suspicions.
There were few people ever at the ruins of the fortress, given it's out of the way location. The still intact 16th-century Tsar's Tower, through which visitors entered the fortress, would offer them shelter for the night.
Several additions had made to the island in its time as a penal colony, including the Secret House of Emperor Paul's reign, which now includes recreated cells to give visitors an idea of inmates' conditions, and the New Prison, which was built in 1884 and held, among others, Lenin's brother, Alexander Ulyanov, who was hanged for treason in 1887. The tower, still mainly intact, would keep them somewhat sequestered from the rest of the world and curious eyes before they began the next phase of their journey.
After arriving at Oreshek hours later Illya and his tired charges settled down, readying a few blankets they'd brought with them. The last of the food was eaten cold. It was but a few cold roasted potatoes, black bread and cold tea, meager fare but better than nothing.
Kuryakin gave up his blanket to Nadia, who was shivering as she finished nursing Grisha, the boy suckling greedily at his mother's breast made little sounds of satisfaction. She handed him the baby, accepting the blanket while she buttoned up her blouse and Illya took the child, feeling a little nervous at first as it had been many years since he's held an infant.
"Go ahead, pat him on the back so he can belch," she smiled, reminding him to support the baby's head.
He laughed when Grisha let out a loud burp, and he recalled a distant but happy memory when his baby brothers Sasha and Misha were fed and needed to be burped the same way. Though he was only eight years old, he remembered helping his mother. It was a good memory, though it did make him feel a little melancholy as he'd not thought of the twins in a very long time.
The baby latched onto his thumb with tiny fingers, and Illya stared in amazement, that a memory too of Sasha and Misha doing the same thing. He passed Grisha back to his mother."He is a beautiful child," he tried smiling, touching his hand gently to the baby's head.
"Thank you," Nada smiled, "he's a good baby, maybe you will have children of your own someday?"
He blushed in response to her. "That is something I doubt will ever happen. One has to live in order to do that, and wit my life as an agent of the GRU, the idea of having a family is in a grey area." In truth, he didn't want to say that he thought he'd never live long enough to marry and have a family of his own. Such a thing was not exactly a priority at the moment.
"Illya I am sorry I slapped you, I was very afraid, You are trying to save us, I understand that now and I appreciate it very much."
He nodded his acceptance of her apology, when Nicholaí pulled him aside, speaking frankly out of earshot of Nada. "Tovarisch, do you really believe this is going to work?"
"I am not sure about anything at this point, but trying it is at least better than the alternative...which for all intents and purposes is a sure thing."
"Illya how did we get into this business you and me? You are very smart, how is it you are not a scientist working in Gorky?"
"Nicholaí, I was an orphan and taken under the wing by a member of the Directorate and for that reason I had no choice of the direction in which my life would take. I have had no say since I was ten years old."
"I did not know that. I suppose I did have a choice. My father was in the military but became disgraced. He was sent to Solovki gulag as punishment. When he was released, he was a changed man, as if all the spirit had been driven from him. I joined GRU to restore my family name and to bring honor back to it, but now with this order you were given, I see I am of no worth to them, and my family name still means nothing."
Illya nodded his understanding. He could have told Nicholaí of his own grandfathers incarceration at Solovki, and the downfall of the Kuryakin name as well, but thought it better not to; reminding himself of his mantra 'the less someone knows of you, the longer you will live.' Instead, he rose and bedded himself down in a corner to catch some sleep.
"I suggest you get some rest, as our real journey begins tomorrow. We travel across the isthmus to the border. There will be no food, and we will need to live off the land for the time being. It will be an exhausting journey, and I am concerned about your wife and child being strong enough."
"She is stronger than you think, and there is nothing more inspiring than a mother lioness protecting her cub. She will manage," Nicholaí whispered before he joined his wife lying on the floor, snuggled up with their son.
Both Illya and Nicholaí slept fitfully during the night, their nerves were on edge, and every little unfamiliar noise startled them to attention.
Only the baby seemed to sleep well though the night and that, Illya supposed, was because he was the only one well fed and unaware of the dangers that surrounded him.
He was grateful for the child being silent, as an infant's cries would echo throughout the fortress and might call undue attention to anyone who was nearby.
It was just after dawn when Illya woke, and he rose quietly as the others slept and looked out the small window. What he saw gave him instant cause to become alarmed.
Parked down below was a black sedan, definitely not the type just anyone who could afford a car would drive. Illya's premonition they were being followed had come to fruition, as he knew this car had to belong to KGB.
He moved quickly to Nicolaí, tapping him gently on the shoulder, but signalled with his finger over his lips to be silent as soon as the man had opened his eyes.
"We have company," Illya whispered, "I fear it is KGB. I am sorry Comrade but my plans were apparently not as clever as I thought they were. We must move quickly if we are to escape. Wake your wife, but whatever you do...do not let the baby cry as that will signal our doom."
They moved quickly as soon as Nada was awake. She stuck her finger in the baby's mouth for him to suck on, and keep him quiet as they crept silently down the spiral stone staircase and made it safely to the outside of the tower.
It was then Grigori decided to let out a blood-curdling wail, alerting the KGB agents on the far side of the tower, and that was when all hell broke lose.
Illya and Nicholaí pulled Nada and the baby to cover behind a pile of large stone blocks, fallen from the fortress walls and as soon as they spotted the Secret Police; they opened fire.
It was a fierce gunfight, with both Illya and Nicholaí taking down the agents. The gunfire ceased, and Nicholaí stood to go to Nada and the baby. Grisha at this point was screaming his lungs out.
There was a single shot, and Nicholaí fell to the ground. The young blond looked on in shock for a moment, but then turned and dispatched the shooter, one of the KGB men who had merely been wounded. Illya finally stood, passing the body of Nicholaí as he knew a dead man when he saw one, and headed straight for the woman and the baby.
He gasped, seeing Nad had taken a bullet to the head, and was also dead. There was blood everywhere, and Illya picked up the baby, examining his bloody soaked clothes, finding that he too had been hit. Illya ripped a piece of cloth from the baby's blanket, and tied a tourniquet around Grisha's leg to help stop the bleeding.
In an adult it would have not been a fatal wound, but to a child only a month old...Illya had no idea if the boy would live or die. He stood, mostly in shock, thinking of what to do next, and decided he needed to get medical attention for the child as quickly as possible.
Illya paused, performing the grisly task of removing Nicholaí's finger, and retrieving his identification. If he indeed made it back to Moskva in one piece, these were trophies he would need to save his own miserable life.
He left the bodies all where they lay; the scene would show a gun battle that went bad, but just in case, Illya planted his beloved Tokarov in Nada's hands if in the event everything was looked at carefully by police. His gun in Nada's hand might place him there but then again not.
Illya climbed into the sedan, placing Grisha on the seat beside him and drove off, not knowing where to find help. When he reached the far side of the Ladozhsky Bridge he abandoned it, heading to where he'd left the little Pobeda.
He looked down at Grisha, who'd become very quiet, and touching the child's cheek; he realized the baby was dead. Illya spotted a small church in the distance and headed there with the body of little Grigori, intending to bury the little innocent. He could not bear the idea of abandoning the baby's body as he had the child's parents.
It was a small wooden orthodox church, one that had obviously been abandoned a long time ago, and he located the nearby graveyard. There beneath the statue of an angel, Illya dug out a shallow grave with a a flat stone, and buried the baby there, covering it with more stones to protect it from wildlife.
"Forgive me Grigori Nickovich Alexandrov, it is my fault you and your parents are dead." Illya looked up at the sky, though no longer believing in God he somehow felt compelled to speak out. "My plan was foolhardy from the start." he moaned, tears streaming down his cheeks as he blamed himself for the catastrophe that had befallen this poor family.
"If you are really there God, then take this little lamb to your side. He was truly an innocent in all this and not deserving of his fate. And if you do not do that for him, then I say again, to hell with you." Illya cursed, still not forgiving God for taking away his own family, and leaving him alone in life at such a young age. *
Illya made his way back to the Pobeda, and found it undisturbed. He climbed into the small car with a sigh and started the engine, putting it into gear; and beginning his trek back to Moskva. Would they accept the story he's tell them though it would be full of half-truths? That remained to be seen and if not, then he'd most likely join Nicholaí and his family in death.
.
At last when Illya stood exhausted before Vetochkin in his office, he told only parts of the story with some alterations... that Alexandrov had made a run for it with a woman and child and he followed them north. They were set upon by KGB agents and in the ensuing gun battle, Nicholaí and his family were killed along with the agents.
"Though I did not make the kill myself, here is proof Alexandrov is dead." He tossed the bloody finger on Vetochkins desk.
"Still, you managed to survive even with KGB interference. What does it matter I suppose, the man is dead by their hands, instead of yours, but your pursuit of your target was admirable and is proof you were indeed loyal to your orders.
Illya let go a barely perceptible breath, as he'd been holding it. He was safe...but at what cost?
"What about KBG, will there not be an investigation into the disappearance of their men?"
Vetochkin laughed. "Let them investigate all they want. If they inquire about you, they will be told that Alexandrov over powered you and escaped. That will offer an explanation as to why your Tokarov was at the scene, though Nicholaí's missing finger might be problematic. Let us hope the wildlife have their way with the bodies before they are found, It will most likely be days before KGB realizes something is amiss."
"Yes Comrade Vetochkin," Illya snapped his heels in salute."May I have your permission to go?"
"Not yet. You have performed admirably and I have a new assignment for you Comrade Kuryakin. You are being sent to the closed city of Gorky and there you will monitor the scientists to ensure their cooperation and loyalty. Given you excelled in the sciences while in school, you will make an ideal candidate for this position. Now you have my permission to leave. Go home, rest and get yourself some good food...you are too skinny."
Vetochkin tossed him several Kopecks, though Illya eyed them suspiciously.
"A bonus Comrade for a job well done." Vetochkin smiled. "I will expect timely reports from you once you have settled in at your new assignment. Now dismissed."
"Thank you Comrade Vetochkin," Illya saluted again.
He left the Directorate in a bit of a daze. He'd pulled it off, saving his own ass, but at the price of innocent lives; that guilt he would carry for a long time. He should have been the one to die, not Nicholaí and his family.
It was history repeating itself again. He should have died with his family during the war, yet he alone survived. He should have died in the concentration camp yet again but again he alone survived, and now he should have died at Oreshek. Why did he live while others around him did not?*
Uncle Vanya had told him he would grow to do good things in life and be a good man...but now he wondered at what cost?
Soon he would head out to Gorky, and another chapter in his short life would begin. Where would it truly take him?
Illya tucked his feelings away, burying them again where they belonged. It was back to business and doing as he was told, still if he had to decide again, he probably would have taken the same path he had with Nicholaí and his family. He had offered them a chance at life, though that chance was fraught with risks, it was better to die trying, was it not? They were still willing to try in spite of the danger. What was life without the willingness to take a gamble to survive?
The life of Illya Nickovich Kuryakin, he suspected, would go on as Uncle Vanya had predicted, but for what purpose and in which direction, he had no idea...
.
* ref "Beginnings"