The Last Night of the Young Baroness

Continued. Start at No. 529

Catastrophe

Vasily's head rushed confused thoughts:
“Arrest again?” Exactly arrested. Now for the long haul. Communication cadet school MGB spy! Now this civilian will say: "Come in the car."
But Major Chizhov spoke of something else:
- We consulted with your command and decided that if Marina came out to you, then we would rather twist her so that she would not take up someone else, less experienced officer. She specifically hunts for officers in the rank of colonel and above. You are not the only one in her mind. So, continue to meet with her. So that she does not suspect anything, show a male interest to her. Be persistent. Maybe she will ask some specific questions. You will keep me informed about everything. We will meet in the safe house. Here is the address and phone number. Nobody tell anything. Even the closest and most reliable people.

At the first meeting at the safe house, the captain handed Garanin a certain amount of money, as he put it, “for courtship”. After that, Vasily, during the dances, began to more closely press Marina and, to his surprise, found her suppleness and reciprocal desire. Once she very tightly pressed against him and kissed him on the lips.
Learning of this, Major Chizhov recommended:
- Act more persistently. She clearly likes you, maybe we can recruit her.
And Marina at the next meeting suggested:
- Let's go to my friend, let's dance, drink some good wine. I'm tired of the restaurants.
In the apartment of a friend Marina and Vasily were alone. Dancing, she pulled him into the bedroom and began to throw off her clothes. In bed, Marina literally covered his whole body with kisses, and then groaned, biting his neck and shoulders. Exhausted, fell, almost losing consciousness. Waking up, she said:
“All right, now I'm dead ... Now I can't live without you.”
Hearing about this, Major Chizhov remarked without expression:
- Congratulations, now it is ours. We take incriminating photos and ...
From these words, Vasily felt uneasy. So, will they be taking a hidden camera to photograph what he does with Marina in bed? If earlier he went to meetings with her without any special emotions, now, imagining how he was being watched, he felt incredible disgust. In the bedroom, Basil peeked around: where is the camera that is watching them? He had already studied these devices in recruitment classes, but could not find them in the room.
And then the unexpected happened. Once Garanin entered the GUM and ... No, it seemed, of course, it seemed that this could not be. From the second floor, Elsa descended the stairs ... Disbelieving eyes, he nevertheless rushed downstairs, caught up to the stranger, looked into her eyes. Elsa, it was her!
- Vasya?
- Yes, Elsa, yes! What a joy that we met. This is destiny. Please give me your phone number.
- Write it down, just hurry, I'm late for the lectures. I study, and I live in a hostel, on Pyrogovka.
- Where are you studying? - asked, writing down the phone number, Vaska.
- I ran. Call I am very glad, terribly glad!
And she laughed happily.
From this moment on, Garanin’s life was lit up with the warm light of Elsa’s eyes. He simply could not live, could not breathe without her. But Sunday came, and I had to go on a mission. Marina pounced on Vasily as soon as he crossed the threshold of “their” apartment, and dragged him to bed. Insatiable, moaning with passion, the female sucked out of him all the forces. And he cursed the hopelessness of the situation.
Once Vasily and Marina met in the subway. Marina laughed loudly and hugged her lover, not paying attention to the fact that people standing nearby on the escalator look and look away disapprovingly. And suddenly, with a sixth sense, he caught someone staring at him intently. He looked around and saw: Elsa was standing on another escalator! She opened her golden eyes wide, not believing what she saw. It seemed to Vasily that the staircase was moving for ages, and all this time Elsa was looking at him, not taking her eyes off.
All night Garanin could not sleep. Elsa's gaze drilled his head to him, and he twisted, groaning, as if he had done something shameful that there was no forgiveness.
At the next meeting, the major said:
- All right, the game is over! We recruited her, and you cut off all contact with her. Our command to you, comrade Garanin, is grateful for the successful execution of a special task, as a result of which we have neutralized an experienced English recruiter.
For some time Garanin lived as after a serious illness. He went to school, went to the gym, in the shooting gallery, but everything, the whole world had faded, became dull, sticky, unkind. The people who surrounded him lost all interest for him. He had no future ahead. He did not call Elsa, finding no excuses for himself. It was impossible to explain to her that he was a counterintelligence officer and that she witnessed one of the episodes of a kind of counterintelligence operation. But he could not forget Elsa either. She lived in every cell of his heart. And the heart stopped dying at the thought of what a happy life they could possibly have.
And again Vienna
Gradually came the final exams. Garanin was considered an able and promising student, but he passed the exams mediocre. Love for Elsa, entered thorn deep in the heart, prevented him from concentrating. That hope, then despair, constantly aggravated the wounds of his heart. Then he thought that it was not all over, that he would find Elsa and explain everything to her that they would have a happy and long life, then in despair he understood that Elsa would never forgive his betrayal, even if he told her all the truth. And he knew how painfully he loved her and how hopeless this love was. Sometimes it became so hard on the soul that it literally pulled into a loop. Therefore, his examinations were on the verge of failure, but he still received the shoulder straps of a junior lieutenant.
According to the rules of the school, a special commission on the results of examinations (and even considering a short stay in prison) was to send him to some Magadan or Syktyvkar with a simple opera to the district administration. Unexpectedly, bypassing the commission, he was called directly to the personnel department of the MGB. This happened at school for the first time. He was received by an elderly colonel in charge of a special sector. He flipped through Garanin’s private file for a long time, then, looking up from the file, suddenly asked:
- A major Soviet intelligence officer, who worked in the Abwehr and then in the SD, during the war, applied for you. Can you guess who it is?
“Liber! - instantly remembered Garanin. “How could I forget that!”
Aloud he said:
- I was familiar with only one Soviet intelligence officer who served in the Abwehr. I don’t know his real name, and I don’t have the right to disclose a pseudonym.
- Look, the conspirator was found! Okay, this is irrelevant. You are heading to Viktor Kuligin, a resident of Soviet foreign intelligence in Vienna. He works under the cover of the post of head of the personnel department of our commandant's office in Vienna. Here are your documents. ”With these words, the elderly colonel handed Garanin a thick envelope of thick gray paper. - You take off in two days by plane. For now, get some rest and buy yourself a decent civilian suit. Good luck!

The capital of Austria arose imperceptibly, growing gradually due to vineyards, small factories and elegant suburban cottages, covered with a thick veil of autumn rain.
The driver, Sergeant Sergeev, confidently and quickly leads his jeep on the highway that runs from the military airfield to the city center. Flashes of houses with frequent Oppinks from machine-gun bursts on respectable facades decorated with heavy caryatids. Around the ruins, piles of rubble, deep funnels on the pavements. Ruins, fires, already overgrown with grass. Although the streets are still deserted, Sergeev is slowing down: the workers are restoring a water pipe, and it is necessary to move along the shaky narrow wooden flooring thrown over a deep ditch. In some places, near the piles of garbage, people rush slowly. On the right grows a majestic old baroque cathedral. In front of him in a shady square tiredly, leaning on the handrails of a stone chair, sits a stone old man. Something familiar flashes in his large, low bowed head, in his brooding pose. Again the cathedral, miraculously surviving among the ruins, this time with narrow, tearing up, pointed windows. The huge, massive palace among the dense park, blazing crimson of autumn. Again a monument. Again the shady square. This city is peculiar, beautiful, even scorched by war. Yet alien, unknown ...
Willys rides through the central, ancient part of Vienna: wide modern streets intersect narrow lanes. Entangled in this maze of streets and alleys, Sergey stops at the sidewalk and, godlessly distorted German, asks the elderly crowns how to get to the building of the Soviet commandant's office. An elderly gentleman cautiously and extensively explains that the Soviet commandant's office is located in the Epstein palace, next to the parliament building.
Sergeyev thanks, sharply turns the jeep and presses forward along the Ring. Suddenly, Garanin joyfully compressed the heart. Here it is - the Soviet commandant's office. On the facade of the massive commandant's office to the left of the entrance is a huge portrait of Lenin, on the right - the same portrait of Stalin in marshal's uniform. At the entrance of the Soviet soldiers with machine guns. Like a bit of native land in this unfamiliar, alien city. At the entrance - strict verification of documents. At the stairs to the fourth, the last floor is another. There - the holy of holies. Human Resources and Intelligence. In the reception of Lieutenant Colonel Viktor Kuligin sits a man of about thirty in a black civilian suit. The old-fashioned metal-rimmed pince-nez is striking. Outwardly, he is a bit like a school teacher.

- Junior Lieutenant Garanin? The man asks dryly. - Comrade lieutenant colonel is waiting for you.
On the threshold of the office, Lieutenant Colonel Viktor Kuligin appears. Garanin pulled into a string.
- Welcome, lieutenant! - says the lieutenant colonel and opens the door to his office.
Cabinet lieutenant colonel. Large writing desk with rich wood carvings. Above him is a large portrait of Stalin. Soft chairs. Massive safe. Two phones. On the wall is a detailed plan of Vienna. The owner of the office is tall, tightly contoured, dark hair neatly combed back, he is about forty. He is not in a hurry, he very carefully reads Garanin’s private affair. Suddenly raises his head and quietly asks:
- What are the reasons why you hid from the authorities the fact that your mother came from a rich Jewish family living in Vienna?
- I have already reported to the authorities that I did not know anything about this fact: neither the mother nor the father ever told me anything about it. Moreover, I saw that mother sometimes went to church, and I considered her Orthodox.
“Did she teach you German?”
- Yes, she was a German teacher at school and taught me a language from the age of six.
- Did you teach literary German or Viennese dialect?
- I can not say for sure. Probably both. Anyway, in Austria, I understood the local dialect well.
- Have you been to Austria? Are you well-versed in the country?
- I was in Austria for a very short time, but in the library of our school I accidentally found several books in German on the history and geography of Austria, as well as a guide to Vienna, read them very carefully, one might say, by heart. So if necessary, then ...
- It's good! I was waiting for you like manna from heaven, lieutenant! 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 ...
Kuligin is clearly pleased with the guest, but his eyes are disturbing. He speaks cheerfully, jokingly, but from the voice intonation, from the expression of his eyes, it is clear that he is nervous, he is not alone in this spacious office.
“It’s not a great deal,” says the lieutenant colonel, “intelligence, counterintelligence, personnel, guard service, patrol service are on our shoulders. There is no time to even think. And here it is necessary to think. Otherwise, you make such a mess that you don’t clear up until the end of your days. And most importantly, you will not immediately discern who is friend and who is enemy. Some sort of sixth sense must immediately recognize that, say, this visitor, dressed in a worn working overalls, is in fact a provocateur and enemy. After all, everyone here lives on a shovel: Austrian fascists, Vlasovites, Ustashi, Bandera, Polish nationalists and all the rest. Vienna - it has always been the spy center of Europe. And speculation, black market, swindles, currency, banditry, prostitution ...

To be continued