The Margin of Evil! Read Online Free Page B

her and started to help themselves to whatever they wanted. Georgii went up to her; she turned around and spat into his face.   Suddenly, there was a loud deafening bang.
    He ran upstairs to where the sound had come from. Vasiliev stood there his back towards him, then his legs crumpled and Vasiliev's body fell backwards. Georgii looked down and saw that there was a scorch mark right between the eyes; blood was slowly seeping out of it.
    Standing between the body and the fireplace was a young boy. The boy was holding a loaded revolver.  He was now pointing it at Georgii.
    ' What's your name?'  Georgii said.
    ' Fyodor,' the boy replied.
    ' Give me the gun.'
    ' No ... I won't.'
    Georgii reached out to the boy with his open hand. He could see that the child was terrified.    The boy's hands were shaking and the whites of his eyes were stained with fear. They stood looking at each other. Georgii sensed that they were not the only people present in the room.   Again he reached out towards the boy. This time he could see that the boy was about to surrender the weapon to him. The boy lent forwards and was about to hand him the revolver when there was a second deafening roar and, in slow motion, he saw the boy blown backwards by the force of the bullet ... landing bodily in the grate of the fireplace. Georgii looked away; at the same time he fought back the urge to be sick. Two lives in two minutes.   What a waste!
    He turned around and saw Trofimov standing behind him holding a smoking revolver. He pushed past her and made for the street. He was appalled by his complicity in, and by the actions of, the new socialist state. He threw up on the virgin snow.
    ' Do you want a lift back to the station?'  He heard Trofimov's voice say.
    ' No it's alright I'll walk. Thanks.' He stammered.
    ' You sure?'             
    ' Yeah I'm sure,' he said.
    With that he turned the collar of his coat up and started walking. He was lost in thought; he lamented the loss of Vasiliev and the boy he never knew. What a tragic waste of life he thought. He walked on.  It was now getting light. People started to scurry around the streets.   He headed for the river.
    In times gone by Georgii Radetzky had always wandered down to the river. He liked the river. In the past he had watched the barges queue up to off-load and pick up other cargoes. Ten years before the Stevedores worked day and night through summer and winter.
    Now the wharfs were deserted .  Bushes grew where the loading bays had once been. The economy was stagnant; the only thing exported these days was death and destruction. What was the world coming to? He sat there and watched the frozen banks of the river. Nothing constructive happened here anymore. War communism [7] was nothing more than state appropriation. Georgii sat there leaning up against a bollard.  Eventually he got up and walked back through the streets to the office. He didn't get there because another thought passed through his mind. Today was Thursday and he was supposed to meet Gerhardt outside the Bolshoi at five o'clock, and the time right now was four o'clock. He had better get a move on.
     
    Chapter Two
     
    Georgii stood by the front of the building and waited. He looked at the people walking past.   After a while it occurred to him that the same people were just walking around in circles. No, no, he had to be wrong, but it was true, the same people were walking, around and around.   He waited until the light had well and truly faded; he was about to give up on Gerhardt ...
    ' Come with me!' the voice from behind said.
    They walked through the streets past clusters of Red Guards. Once or twice they were asked to show their papers. Each time the guard gave them a cursory glance and waved them on.   Eventually they came to a street. Along the side of the street was a long wall and in the wall was a blue door. They stood outside it and Georgii watched Gerhardt reach into his coat pocket and fish out a