Weekdays operative Last night of the young baroness

Continued. Start at No. 529

1

Right from the Vienna airport, Garanin went to the Soviet commandant's office to lieutenant colonel Kuligin, who was in charge of intelligence and counterintelligence.
- I was waiting for you, like manna from heaven, Lieutenant! - said, smiling, Lieutenant Colonel Kuligin Garanin. “We urgently need operatives.” In essence, our operational service is not yet established. You and create it! Our intelligence has at least to some extent been set, two women and an experienced illegal, but operational service on zeros ... There are plenty of cases, here we have a lot of bastards in the underground: Austrian Nazis, Vlasov, Ustashi, Bandera, Polish nationalists, speculators , black market, currency, banditry! Recently, for example, they robbed the largest jewelry store in Vienna of a certain Mr. Gerlach on Kurtnerstrasse. When investigating the scene on the floor, the investigator found documents of the foreman of our guard battalion, Vladykin. We interrogated him, what's the use of that ?! He says he was drunk as a lord, some beautiful German woman gave him a drink. He was drunk and remembers nothing. And the newspapers are already trumpeting the looting of Soviet soldiers!

Kuligin's eyes are anxious. By intonation, by the expression of the eyes it is clear that he is nervous, he is not alone in this spacious office. All his life he worked in the personnel department at Lubyanka and only five months ago he was transferred — for some sins there — to this completely unfamiliar job. He rises from his chair, walks around the office and says:
“Or here ... Today, the head of the patrol service reports:“ At night, my patrol found in the church in Simmering a group of six Nazis. Many weapons taken. I believe the priest is guilty of this. I arrested him. ” And if this is a provocation? If all this is tweaked just to make us pop this under a tribunal? What will happen then? Do not know? I will tell you. Tomorrow a heart-rending howl will go all over the city: “The Bolsheviks arrest clergymen! They are brought under the tribunal! They are threatened with execution! ”And all this in the plural! Can you imagine, Lieutenant, what kind of concert the local Catholics will give us!
Or another example. A gray-bearded old man comes to see me. I look and wonder what the soul holds. Calls himself a Polish bishop. Until the forty-first year he lived in Poland, the Nazis took him to Vienna. Crying bitterly. “Have mercy,” he says, “over my old age, help me get to Poland, die there. The Lord will repay you. ” I think: “It remains for you, dad, to really live a matter of days. Go to Poland, good riddance. One priest in Vienna will be less. A woman with a cart is easier for a mare. ” Gave permission, even with transport helped. Three months pass - and suddenly a call from Moscow. Minister of State Security Comrade Abakumov on the wire. “How is it,” he shouts, “you fool, have managed to transfer the foul volchars from Austria to Poland? I am taking you to Magadan, committing a polar subcommand! ”It turns out that my old man went to Poland not to die at all, but on the special assignment of the Vatican. Along the way, in Budapest, he managed to see the Cardinal of Hungary, gave him a secret assignment from the Pope of Rome, and in Krakow, in Wawel, in church sermons, he began to denounce the Soviet Union. In a word, the old man so annoyed the people's authorities that they snapped at Abakumov himself. And you say ...
Now you will have to deal with all of these ... Today you are the youngest in the commandant's office, but if you put yourself in the right direction, recommend, then you will quickly go to the mountain ... Already today must act ... Sit down and write. There is such a town - Baden. The Carmelite convent is located not far from it ... In the village of Mayerling ... the Russian princess Elena Alexandrovna Gagarin (nee Golitsyn) now lives in the monastery hotel. She gave me a note from one of the nuns who had come to Vienna for a monastery. I asked to urgently send a detective story to her on the case of great importance (as she herself put it). I don’t think that business really is of great importance, but what the hell is not joking ... The old woman is pro-Soviet, helps us with what she can, has some weight and connections here, the Nazis hated ... You need to respect her. So take Sergeeva and press on the jeep to the princess. I advise both to wear civilian suits. Act as quietly as possible ...
- If you will, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, just the opposite. The entire district immediately notice suspiciously quiet Russian in civilian clothes on a jeep with signs of the commandant's office. It is better to come in full uniform and with orders. Find some suitable excuse. For example, the day of the angel of this very princess. Give her a bouquet of flowers and a box of Moscow sweets - if you can get it here.
“How do you know about her angel's day ?!” - surprised lieutenant colonel Kuligin.
“I don’t know.” Most likely, there is nothing like that. I will say: a mistake came out, I'm sorry, but I will hand sweets and flowers. And the contact will be established, and there is a reason, and there is nothing to hide.
- Well, you, Lieutenant, apparently, the guy is experienced. Act on circumstances. And we will get sweets and flowers. At its best.

2

In Mayerling, Garanin quickly found a monastery hotel. A small, but solidly built two-storey stone mansion. He opened a massive, heavy gate and entered the courtyard. A gravel path led to a high porch. On both sides of the path, flower beds were broken symmetrically. Flowers have faded, except for a few yellow balls. The entire courtyard is clean, licked - without a single mote. Garanin climbed to the second floor. Directly opposite the stairs were the apartments of the Princess. He asked the maid, who had fluttered out of the door, to report on him.
“The princess is waiting for you,” the maid said and brought Garanin into the small living room.

Here he saw in the easy chair a shabby old woman under seventy. Cheeks skillfully rouge, lips slightly touched paint. She was somehow emphatically neat, as if inanimate, as if an exhibit of a museum cabinet. An old-fashioned hairstyle, a black silk dress, on a white lace inset, which covered a thin senile neck, stood out a black velvet ribbon with an old medallion on a thin gold chain.
Garanin stretched out, snapped his heels and introduced himself:
- Lieutenant Garanin. The commandant of Vienna instructed me to congratulate you on the day of the angel and to present a box of Moscow chocolates.
The old woman threw a lorgnette in amazement, glanced briefly at Garanin and said casually:
- Oh, lieutenant, your commandant confused something, my angel's day will be February 19, in four months, that is, but I’m heartily pleased with you. Oh, how long ago have I not seen a Russian officer at a party. Excuse my feminine curiosity, are you a guardsman? Transfiguration?
“That's right,” said Garanin, “only I am a Soviet guardsman.” Come from workers. My father is a worker from Trekhgorka.
- Yes, eh? - surprised Gagarin. - Oh, yes, I remember, well, sometimes Nikolasha Prokhorov, owner of Trekhgorka, came to her husband. A very nice person, respectful such, you know, kept himself extremely modest. She and her husband were on the board of the Moscow Automobile Society. I would never have thought, however, that you are the son of a worker. Bearing, posture, you become a true guard. I remember that even in Divnoye - this is my estate in the Moscow province - I was introduced to a very educated young lieutenant. And what would you think? It turned out his ancestor was Tula blacksmith! What is it? He pleased Tsar Peter with something; he was granted a nobility. The blacksmith went up the hill, got rich, and his grandson married Princess Matilde de Montfort. Maybe there was a princess in your family too? - coquettishly smiling, asked Gagarin. - Or at least the Countess? Not? Let it be your way. But I would never say that you are from work. No never! Believe me, you have what was called a breed in our circle. However, I have a business to you. More precisely, not even with me, but with my maid. Little girl, you know, so young, but very decent. Gertrude! She cried.
She entered the living room, holding a large bundle in her hands, the maid, a sweet young German girl. She was agitated, in the eyes - confusion. Embarrassed, she tugged at the collar of her dress and tried in vain to straighten the rebellious strand of blond hair.
Garanin looked at her expectantly, but she was silent. Finally, her excitement overcame her, whispered:
- I ask you to listen to me, Mr. Officer ... I am an honest, decent girl, but I was forced. And I gave up. And now I do not know what to do ... And here he came ...
The maid was crying. Her shoulders shook nervously. She was completely taken aback, could not find a handkerchief, and tears flowed in large drops down her cheeks.
- Excuse me, Mr. officer! - finally healed the tears, she said softly, and again she fell silent.
- Maybe you still briefly state your business to me? - said Garanin.
“Ah, Mr. Officer, the fact is that two years ago I met one person and loved him.”
“Damn it brought me here to listen to the love stories of the maid! - thought Garanin. “Now she will say that she is pregnant, and her dear Hans gave a tear, and could Mr. Officer catch him and bring him down the aisle!”
Meanwhile, Gertrude continued:
- Oh, he had a modest but good job. He worked as a clerk at the jewelry store of Mr. Gerlach on the Curtnerstrasse. (Hearing the name of the store, Garanin immediately became alert.) He was not a Nazi at that time, but then he was replaced. He joined the party and even became some kind of boss there. I really did not understand much about it. His name is Franz Lichter. Before the arrival of your troops, Franz disappeared. At first it was said that he was killed in those days when fighting was going on in Vienna. Then the neighbor told me in her ear that she seemed to see him near Prater when she went to her sick sister. And a week ago he sought me out. And brought this.
The maid put a bundle on the table. It contained several cans of American canned food and a pack of sugar.
- What next?
- Came to me, brought this bundle and said: “Gertrude, the Nazis are still alive. You must do what I order you ... Take this suitcase and keep it like the apple of your eye. You will keep it for a week. Then a young woman will come to you, and you will give her a suitcase and then, in addition to this convolution, you will receive a pack of dollars. ” I began to refuse, said I did not want to listen to him. Then Franz began to curse, curse disgustingly and threatened: "If you disobey me, I will write to the Soviet commandant a statement that you gave out the Communists, and even attach documents about this from the Gestapo." “There are no such documents,” I said. “Don't worry, they will,” Franz laughed. “In the Soviet commandant office they will not believe your excuses, but if they do, then I will shoot you like a dog.” Turned and left. But before leaving, he left a small, very heavy suitcase and said: "On Sunday, at midnight, I and another woman will come for him." I did not sleep all night. I decided: let him kill me, but I will die honest. And the next morning I told my mistress. She is so smart and understands everything. And she told you. Franz will appear behind the suitcase tonight, exactly at midnight. I'm so scared, I feel that he will kill me!
Garanin reassured Gertrude as best he could.
“I will be there,” he said, “do not be afraid, behave as naturally as possible.” Of course, the purpose of our visit is to convey the congratulations of our commandant to the princess on the occasion of her angel's day. Now my driver and I will take a little walk, sit in a rustic squash and leave. We will leave, of course, not far, we hide somewhere in the forest. And at twelve we will be here. Where do you sleep? Next to the princess?
- What do you! - surprised Gertrud. - I live in the outhouse. Yellow house with a tiled roof opposite the entrance to the hotel.

At ten o'clock, when everything was quiet in the monastery, Garanin and Sergeyev quietly approached the outhouse and hid in the elder bushes. At exactly twelve, a car drove up to the outhouse. Two men came out - a man and a woman. The driver stayed behind the wheel.
“I will seize him,” Garanin whispered to Sergeyev, “then you will also jump out of the bushes.” Together we twist it.
When the two visitors entered the outhouse and the door closed behind them, Garanin quietly approached the driver from behind, grabbed him by the neck and jerked her back. The driver wheezed. Then Sergeyev appeared with a rope. When the deal was done, Garanin quietly told the driver, putting his TT on his temple:
- You will behave intelligently, spare. If you pikesh, sew like a dog.
At this time, night guests came out of the outhouse. Instantly assessing the situation, they opened fire. Sergeev replied. The driver was killed by the first shot of Franz, but Franz himself was shot in the back of the head.
Garanin brought a heavy suitcase to the commandant's office, two corpses and a young woman who did not enter the exchange of fire and calmly watched her from the side. Lieutenant Colonel Kuligin, having learned of the night incident, ordered two bodies to be taken to the Soviet hospital, he decided to examine the suitcase himself, and ordered the young woman to interrogate Garanin.
Only in the office Garanin could see it. She was amazingly good. Tall, slim, strong. The matte skin of the face is so transparent that it seems that you feel hot blood beating beneath it. Huge black eyes. And a shock of the same black curly hair. But something predatory, cruel looked through in the guise of this woman - whether in the figure of the mouth, or in her smile, when she showed her white sharp teeth.
She held herself defiantly. She casually crossed her legs and played with the tip of her lacquered shoe. I smoked an expensive cigarette, carefully watching how smoke rises to the ceiling.
Garanin asked the first standard questions:
- Your first and last name?
- Magda Yagich.
- Age?
- Women are not asked such tactless questions.
- Nationality?
- Is it really all the same who I am - Montenegrin, Bulgarian, Croat? Most likely - Croat ... Why not?
Really, who is she? He speaks Russian fluently, but with a strange accent, which Garanin has never heard.
“Do you plead guilty to rob Gustav Gerlach's jewelry store?”
- Today it would be foolish to deny it.
- Who, besides you, participated in a robbery?
- Well, at least those whom you shot today. I hope they are dead?
- Who else?
- Mr. officer, let us agree with you: I will not answer any questions anymore. Boring
And she really shut up and continued stubbornly silent, playing shoes and blowing rings of smoke.

3

The next day, coming to the commandant's office, Garanin learned that Yagich was fleeing. After the interrogation, the arrested person was placed in the room of those under investigation. There was no woman nearby, and Magda decided not to search. With a saw hidden in her bra, she sawed two bad iron bars and descended from the second floor through a drainpipe. Lieutenant Colonel Kuligin was raging, metal thunder and lightning on the head of the guard department, Major Slavin. Garanin was ordered to catch Magda alive or dead. But she seemed to fall through the earth.
To be continued