Chapter 18

Warning - there are some graphic descriptions of injuries in this chapter.

Historical note: NKVD Forced Labour Camp Number 7 on Krasnykh Komandirov Street in Kiev existed, and many Russian political prisoners ended their lives there. Nikolai appears to have been one of the lucky ones and survived. Just.

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Rivka stared in profound shock at the man standing smiling in the doorway.

"Gavri! Gavri … I - " Her words faltered as Gavri Velonin's hazel-green eyes studied her … and his smile faded. He hadn't changed much in the past five years since she had seen him … still tall and wiry, strong despite the lean build. His blonde-brown hair had receded a little, but the thin lips soon changed from his usual insincere smile to a grim line as he noticed the swell of her body.

"Well, well - what's this?" His lips curled into a snarl as he pushed his way past her, shoving Rivka none-to-gently out of the way as he entered the warm comfort of the ancient cellar. He grabbed a shocked Rivka by the arm and jerked her away from the door, slamming it shut behind him, and pushed her back against the wall. "I decide to come home after all these years, thinking my beloved wife would save herself for me and welcome me with open arms … and what do I find?" Rivka shrank back in fright as he pushed his face close to hers, his other hand lifting to stroke her breast. "You've been screwing around, my love! Opening your legs for another man!"

Rivka suddenly snapped into reality. Gavri was back … and he was hurting her, as she felt him squeeze her breast painfully.

"Stay away from me!!" She shoved hard and Velonin, taken by surprise at her resistance, took a couple of steps back, letting her go. "Don't you touch me, you … you …"

Recovering his composure, Velonin lifted his hands in surrender, the smile once more creeping back onto his face.

"All right, all right ... I suppose having been gone all these years I couldn't expect you to stay pure and chaste for your husband, could I? That would be just too much to ask, hey, Rivka, my sweet?" His grin widened as he saw the anger on Rivka's face. He looked about the cellar, seeing evidence of a man's presence ... clothes drying on a rack, a pipe on the mantelpiece, and a wool ushanka hat hanging on the coat rack Nikolai had put up on the wall next to the door. "Hmmm - a soldier, I see? A goyim, I bet, too. Pity - I thought at least you could have chosen a good Jewish fellow ... still, I suppose beggars can't be choosers."

Rivka bristled, terrified though she was. Looking at the clock on the mantelpiece she realised with desperate relief that Nikolai would be home fairly soon ... and when he came home, Gavri Velonin would be laughing on the other side of his sly face.

Velonin caught the desperate look on her face and cocked his head on one side, then glanced at the clock. He nodded in sudden understanding.

"Ah, so he'll be home soon, this goy of yours." Reaching into his pocket, he brought out a slim, steel-bladed knife, the honed edge glittering in the light of the paraffin lamp, and Rivka couldn't contain a whimper of terror. "I think this will keep him under control, my sweet Rivka, don't you? And you're certainly in no condition to stop me." He moved closer and Rivka stumbled backwards as he gestured at her belly with the knife, pressing her back against the footrails of the big bed. Velonin looked at the neat quilts on the bed and chuckled. "Too bad, hey, Rivka? A shame you wouldn't let me near you - I wouldn't have left, you know. Well, perhaps not quite as soon as I did. Maybe it would have been me filling your belly with a child instead of the bastard goy brat you're carrying. I would have pleased you if you had let me ... maybe I'll do just that before I go, my sweet wife. How would you like that? Old Gavri showing his wife just how a woman should be treated, hey?"

At the thought of Velonin putting his hands on her again, Rivka's temper finally broke.

"You? You, Gavri Velonin?? Try and make love to me?? You wouldn't know how!!" Rivka was spitting mad now, and the threat of the knife for some reason made her even more incensed. If she could distract him, she thought, perhaps she would manage to shout a warning to Niko before he came in through the door ... perhaps, she could save him from a knife between his ribs. The thought filled her with horror. "You were useless then, Gavri, and I suspect you're even more useless now - "

But before she could continue Velonin's hand caught her by the throat and the knife point pricked under her chin, drawing a thin trickle of blood. Rivka was pushed roughly onto the bed as Velonin towered over her. For a moment his hand strayed to his pants and began to unbutton his fly, but suddenly he stopped, hesitating.

"No ... no, not now. Later, Rivka. I have other things to do before I take what's mine. Now woman, I'm hungry. I want food and any cash you have, d'you hear?" He saw Rivka hesitate and used his empty hand to grab her arm and haul her painfully to her feet, shoving her towards the stove. "Come on, woman! Food!!!"

Rivka stifled a yelp of pain as she staggered against the table, her body ungainly and uncharacteristically awkward. But she steadied herself, her mind in chaos as she tried to concentrate on the big pot of soup she always kept warm ready for Nikolai's return.

Why was Gavri here? What on earth had made him return to the hell-hole that had become Stalingrad? She studied him furtively out of the corner of her eye as she began to stir the soup, watching him wander around the cellar, touching the belongings she and Nikolai had painstakingly gathered together over the past months. He certainly looked somewhat careworn and threadbare - not at all like the smartly-dressed and neatly-groomed Gavri Velonin she remembered. She wiped away the thin line of blood under her chin and reached a trembling hand towards a bowl, ladling a generous amount of soup into it. Setting it on the table she went to sit on the bed but Velonin would have none of it. He reached out and hauled her into a chair, Rivka wincing at the grasp of his strong fingers, and the tall man sat down and tucked into the bowl of soup as though he hadn't eaten for a week.

Rivka's mind was in a whirl. She was seated with her back to the door, and had no way of watching for Nikolai's return, so how was she to warn him? Nikolai was walking into a deadly trap, and Velonin would no doubt hear Nikolai's steps as he came down the wooden stairs into the cellar anteroom, even though the big trapdoor was open to allow the warm summer breeze to freshen the underground cellar. She saw Velonin's eyes constantly check the closed but unlocked door, and the man's free hand clasped the long, slender knife as though his life depended on it. Perhaps it did. There was a desperation in Gavri Velonin … and Rivka realised he was a frightened man. But frightened of whom? He seemed confident that he could deal with Nikolai, so it must be someone else … perhaps if she talked to him, brought that fear to the surface, and maybe … just maybe … he would make a mistake and she could warn Nikolai. She took a deep breath.

"Why are you here, Gavri? Why come back?"

She hoped he didn't notice the quaver in her voice, but Velonin just swallowed a mouthful of soup-laden bread and grinned.

"Because, my dear, sweet, not-so-innocent Rivka, I needed a bolt-hole and some money. You do have some money, I take it? This man of yours has to keep you somehow."

Rivka's chin tilted in defiance despite her fear.

"We have a little - and he doesn't keep me, Gavri. We share everything, Niko and I. We don't have much, but it's enough."

Velonin raised an eyebrow.

"'Niko', is it? Tell me Rivka … this 'Niko' of yours … is he good to you? What's he like? Good in-between the sheets, is he?"

Rivka smiled grimly.

"Yes, Gavri Velonin, Nikolai is good to me. He's a good man … decent, kind … not like you. He's gentle, too. But when he comes home he'll break you in two, I promise you that. He's a soldier, yes, and a good one at that … a sniper … a man they call 'The Bear'. Maybe you've heard of him?"

Her final words struck home as she saw Velonin pause in his chewing, his green-gold eyes widening slightly.

Yes, he's heard of 'The Bear', she thought. Now he is even more afraid …

Velonin straightened and cocked his head to one side.

"'The Bear'? Yes … yes, I've read about him. A tough man." Velonin fingered the knife, the razor edge glittering in the light. "But how tough is he against a knife, Rivka? I'm good with a knife, you know … I can gut him like a sturgeon in a second."

And in that moment Rivka felt a chill run through her. Gavri Velonin was a desperate man, and fear ran through him like a river … but his fear did not make him a coward. Nikolai would come home expecting warmth and food and the love of his woman, and instead would be met with cold steel. Dear God, she had to warn him!

But suddenly there was no time as she heard the clatter of boots on the stairs. Nikolai was home.

Gavri Velonin smiled.

*******************

Lieutenant Colonel Nikolai Koulikov of the 284th Rifle Division was feeling uncharacteristically happy with himself.

Life's not so bad, he thought, as he hummed quietly, hefting his rifle off his shoulder and leaning it against the old table in the anteroom of the cellar. Next he slipped off his greatcoat, for as warm and sunny as the early summer weather was, he still felt the cool of the evening, even though his health had improved dramatically over the past month.

He grinned. Rivka's good food and gentle care of him had worked wonders, and he felt better than he had done in years. His teaching was going well and his students were managing to stay alive and kicking in the hell that was the Front, away to the south west. Their child was soon to be born, and with luck, Nikolai thought, he would one day be able to marry his Rivka. His Rivka. He snorted to himself in amusement. A year ago he was a lonely, doomed soldier, his days filled with death and horror, and what was worse, he accepted it. There had been nothing else other than a bullet and a life cut short in the split second between the gentle pull of a trigger and the echo of a single shot. Now he had hope. Hope and a woman who loved him and was on the point of making him a father. God - if there was a God - did indeed work in strange ways.

Turning back to the old door he was faintly surprised not to see Rivka there in the doorway, smiling, her arms ready to hold him in greeting. She must be resting, he thought. About time too. His hand reached out to lift the latch.

"Nikolai!" Rivka's voice reached him even through the thick, hefty oak door. "Niko!!! Watch out!! He has a kni - " Her voice was cut off by a hard slap and Nikolai heard the sound of a body stumble and fall heavily, accompanied by a keening cry of pain.

Years of living in various war zones and a sharply-honed instinct for self-preservation would normally have kicked in and tempered his reactions, but that agony-filled cry sent any thought of caution out of his head. It was Rivka that he heard whimpering in pain, and a blood-red fury roared through his veins.

As he burst in through the door, using his not inconsiderable strength and size to send it crashing back on its hinges, he took in the scene before him in an instant. Rivka lay crumpled against the wall between the stove and the bed, cradling her arm which had obviously been burnt as she slammed into the heated stove. Her nose was bleeding, and a bruise was already swelling on her cheekbone.

Shocked for a split second, Nikolai hesitated … and that hesitation almost cost him his life.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a shape lunging for him, and something gleamed sharply in the light. Something long and deadly. Nikolai twisted desperately to one side, light on his feet for such a big man, and instinct kicked in as he swung his left arm upwards to deflect the knife now aiming for the space between his third and fourth rib which led to his heart. He caught a glimpse of hazel-gold eyes, glittering with malice, and the flash of a white, manic grin, and then a burning pain sliced across the back of his wrist.

With a roar of anger, Gavri Velonin felt Nikolai's arm deflect the knife and he shifted his balance slightly, aiming his other bunched fist at Nikolai's chest, the weight of his body adding impetus to the blow. He heard Nikolai grunt with pain and stagger backwards into the wall, and Velonin couldn't stop his own body slamming into the big soldier, driving the breath from both of them. They both slid into a tangled heap on the floor.

Winded, they separated, Velonin managing to scramble clear of Nikolai's powerful grasp. Nikolai however was trying desperately to take a breath. Velonin's blow to his chest had hurt, and now the wind was knocked out of him his damaged lungs protested at the strain. He began to cough, unable to control the hacking, wrenching spasms in his chest, and Velonin took advantage of Nikolai's momentary incapacity to roll onto his knees, breath hissing through his teeth with the effort.

His face twisted in triumph as his hand raised, ready to drive the knife deep into Nikolai's chest. He couldn't let this bastard of a goyim take his woman … he just couldn't. Whore that she was, Rivka was his. And he meant to take her back at any cost, despite what his intentions had been when he returned to Stalingrad. He may have deserted her, but as her husband it was his right to do with her what he wished, and this big shit of a soldier had to be taught a lesson. He drove the knife downwards with dreadful certainty.

Nikolai knew he couldn't defend himself in time. His body had betrayed him when he needed it most, and he hadn't a hope in hell of deflecting the blade.

But suddenly Velonin was sent sprawling, dazed, the knife loose in his grasp, and Rivka was standing above him, swaying, a length of firewood held in her good hand, gasping with the effort of delivering a glancing blow to her errant husband's shoulder. But it had been enough.

With a grunt of effort, Nikolai struggled to his feet and kicked the blade from Velonin's nerveless hand as he lay blinking on the cold floor. Catching Velonin by the shirt front with his bleeding hand he lifted the man bodily and sent his other fist into his soft abdomen, hearing the breath whoosh from him as Gavri Velonin doubled up in agony. Dumping Velonin on the floor, he gave the man only a glance to check he was not an immediate danger to them. Nikolai turned his attention to Rivka, and caught her in strong arms as she began to crumple to the floor. Sweeping her into his grasp with ease he lifted her in one movement and held her to him, whispering to her that she was safe, and then he laid her gently on the bed, blue eyes blazing with anger and fear.

Rivka opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her arm was on fire, she hurt all over and she could feel her cheek swelling where Velonin's knuckle had caught her. Her nose had stopped bleeding, she was sure, but Nikolai was stroking her face gently, checking to see she was all right.

"Rivka … please, Rivka … tell me you're all right … God help me Rivka, I'm sorry … I wasn't back in time …"

Despite her pain Rivka smiled, wincing as her cheek protested.

"I'm all right love … did he hurt you? I couldn't warn you … I'm so sorry, my Niko …"

They clung to each other, reassuring themselves that all was well. Nikolai wiped the blood from her face with a gentle thumb and tenderly tucked a curl back from her bruised cheek. When she let out a hiss of pain as he held her to him, Nikolai remembered the burn on her arm. He inspected the raw, angry welt on her forearm.

"Bloody hell, Rivka! I'll go get Oleg - "

Rivka reached up and touched his cheek, seeing the white of his skin stretched over cheekbones in anger.

"Hist love! Don't worry … I'll be fine, I promise … I've had worse! What about your poor hand - "

Nikolai lifted his left hand and saw the long, shallow bloody gouge along the back of his angular wrist and instantly knew it wasn't serious.

"Just a scratch, woman, so you can stop fussing." His eyes narrowed. "The baby, Rivka … are you all right? I mean … the fall …"

Rivka kissed him.

"We're fine … just a bit bruised."

They were interrupted by a retching groan from Gavri Velonin, and it was as though the noise snapped something inside Nikolai Koulikov.

With a growl of fury he left Rivka's side and strode to the man now struggling to get to his feet, holding his gut. Velonin barely stretched upright before a fist smashed into his jaw, sending him reeling once more. Blood and broken teeth filled his mouth and he was incoherent with pain, but Nikolai didn't stop. Whoever this intruder was, he had hurt Rivka, endangering both her and their child, and Nikolai Koulikov was going to pulverise him until he was nothing but dog food. Velonin cringed, expecting the next blow to take his head off as he cowered against the wall, the blood roaring in his ears. He knew he was finished. Nikolai Koulikov was going to kill him.

But the blow never came. He could hear Rivka's voice, and squinting painfully up at the figures above him, saw Rivka was standing beside the big soldier, unsteady but insistent, hand on his upraised arm.

"Niko, please - you don't understand. It's Gavri! Gavri came back! Don't you understand, love? It's over! I can be free of him at last!"

Nikolai stood, arm uplifted, ready to beat Gavri Velonin to a pulp. But Rivka's words penetrated his blood-rage, and common sense began to reassert itself. Gavri Velonin. The bastard they had been looking for these past couple of months. The stupid bugger had come back to Stalingrad. Dropping his hand he hauled Velonin to his feet and dumped him in a chair, the black marketeer wiping a shaky hand over his shattered mouth. Nikolai bent down and growled in Velonin's ear.

"You stay put, you sneaky little shit. I have something for you to do - call it the price of me letting you keep your scrawny, stinking skin."

Nikolai straightened and lifted a sheaf of folded papers down from behind the old clock on the mantlepiece. Dropping them in front of Velonin, he dug out a pen and some ink.

"Sign these."

Velonin looked at the papers, bleary-eyed, his body protesting at every movement.

"What … what are they?" His voice mumbled through broken teeth and a mouthful of blood.

Nikolai grinned, and Velonin thought he had never seen anything so frighteningly menacing in his life.

"Divorce papers. They're all stamped, signed and ready to go. There's a copy for us and a copy for you, granting Rivka a civil divorce. Oh, and if you have any sense you'll sign the ones at the back, too. They're a 'get', granting you a divorce from Rivka under Jewish law. We've been looking for you for months, but you got it into your head to come back. On the run, are you? Your black-marketeering friends out to get you, are they? And you thought Rivka would take you in and hide you, give you money?" Nikolai snorted. "Actually, she probably would have if you had treated her properly. Rivka has a good heart, you arse-hole, and she would have helped if you had asked. But you didn't. And anything that happens to you from now on is your own doing. So sign."

Nikolai watched Velonin as the battered man lifted the pen and hesitantly dipped it into the ink, then grinned. Velonin signed everything. He signed the divorce papers and the get, and when he had finished Nikolai separated out the copies, folded one set and tucked them into the inside pocket of Velonin's shabby suit. The other set he slipped into the drawer of the bedside table where they nestled against the two little bundles of letters both he and Rivka treasured.

Leaving Velonin to sit shakily at the table for a moment Nikolai turned and guided Rivka back to the bed where he pulled back the sheets and made her lie down. He slipped off her shoes and tucked the blankets around her, kissing her lightly.

"Now, Missus, just you lie still and I'll get something for that arm. Then I'll deal with this piece of shit - "

Rivka's heart lurched.

"Niko, love, please, don't do anything - "

He touched her lips with his finger, hushing her.

"Shhh, my lady. You stay where you are and let old Nikolai take care of everything. And no, I won't do anything to him, I promise. Nothing permanent, anyway, although …" Nikolai's voice hitched for a moment. He wanted to kill Gavri Velonin. He wanted to kill him so badly it hurt, because of what he had done to Rivka, both now and in the past. But he knew it would upset Rivka, it would drive a wedge between them that no amount of love would remove, and for that reason he would let Gavri Velonin live. "Righto, then. Let's get you cleaned up …"

Still keeping an eye on the battered Velonin, Nikolai dug out Rivka's first-aid kit and fetched water and a towel. Gently and lovingly he tended her wounds, Rivka lying quietly in the bed as she watched him fuss over her. At that moment she understood how much he loved her. He would have killed for her, she realised … but what was more, he was stopping himself from doing so because she had asked him to let the most hated thing in Nikolai's life survive. For her, he would swallow his hatred and let Gavri Velonin live.

When he had finished and Rivka was warm and settled, he made her some tea, all the while ignoring the beaten man sitting defiantly at the table occasionally wiping away blood from his mashed lips. Once Nikolai was satisfied that Rivka had not come to any serious harm, he turned back to Gavri Velonin. Without saying a word, he grabbed Velonin by the shoulder of his jacket and hauled him to his feet, shoving him through the open door. He looked back at Rivka before he followed Velonin.

"You behave yourself, Rivka, and stay where you are. You need to rest. I'll be back in a little while … and I won't do anything nasty to him, I promise."

Rivka watched him from luminescent eyes as she sipped the hot tea, flinching as she shifted slightly. She knew she would be too stiff to move much by morning, but at least she was safe. She felt a momentary burst of irrational panic … she would be on her own again. But she squashed it firmly. Nikolai would be home soon, and then they could both rest and recover.

She nodded.

"I know… don't be long, love … please …"

Nikolai grinned reassuringly.

"I won't. I'll just dump this piece of rubbish somewhere well away from here and then I'll be back." He gave Velonin another shove, almost sending the man to his knees as he stumbled forward.

Rivka relaxed back into soft pillows and sighed. Niko would be back soon, and everything would be all right. Closing her eyes, she began to drift, and didn't see Nikolai reach into his Sidor bag and remove his old Luger automatic. He tucked it into his belt and headed off outside into the moonless June night with a hapless Gavri Velonin in tow.

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They headed somewhere into the shadows of the Lazur chemical factory in the eastern quarter of Stalingrad. It had seen some of the most appalling fighting in the months-long battle, and Nikolai shoved Velonin forward, the shabby black-marketeer staggering onward into the shattered ruins. There were many unburied corpses still, often piled in gawky disarray, the bodies lying where they fell as the bitter hand-to-hand fighting had moved metre by bloody metre through the dreadful days and nights of a Russian winter. Velonin couldn't stop himself from gagging at the stench.

"A pretty mess, isn't it?" Nikolai smiled grimly as he saw the dismay on Velonin's ravaged face. "This is what Rivka's faced every day in the past year. She's a tough woman, Velonin … tougher that you'll ever be."

They walked on a little further, their way lit only by starlight in the clear summer night, until Nikolai caught hold of Velonin's jacket and dragged him to a halt. They were standing in a deserted alley next to the factory, well away from any habitation, and Nikolai shoved Velonin down on his knees, the tall man suddenly wide-eyed.

Nikolai sighed.

"Right. This'll do."

Gavri Velonin heard a click and looked up at Nikolai, only to feel the press of cold steel against his forehead. The barrel of a gun. He swallowed his terror and ground out words through clenched, shattered teeth.

"You told Rivka you'd let me live."

Nikolai's grin was feral.

"What Rivka doesn't know won't hurt her, Velonin. Only you and I will know, and I'm not going to tell her. And as for you … well, we won't have to worry about you ever again, will we? 'Cause you'll be dead and gone and no-one will give a shit. You're a black marketeer, selling drugs and medicine to the highest bidder. Do you know how many men died in the hospitals here because of you bastards selling stuff out from under the doctors? Do you have any idea how many men Rivka watched die because of you, because no matter how much she helped out she didn't have the equipment? You deserve nothing, Velonin! Killing you would do the world a favour!" He looked stonily down at Gavri Velonin with eyes that glittered in the shadowed night. "Hell's teeth, you're a gutless wonder, and that's no mistake. It's all right when you're beating a heavily pregnant woman, or sticking a knife in someone's ribs from the shadows, but expecting you to face it head on? Nah. Not like these poor bastards still lying where they died." Nikolai gestured with his free hand at the corpses around them. "Shot to buggery or blown to hell - doesn't matter who they were … Fritz, Russian, Rumanian, Ukranian … they're all bloody heroes compared to the likes of you. A waste of bloody space, that's what you are."

For long moments the two men were still, Nikolai pressing the barrel of the Luger so hard into Velonin's forehead it left an indentation, and for a split second Velonin could swear he felt Nikolai's finger tightening on the trigger.

But, miraculously, the pressure eased.

Nikolai snorted in dismay and aimed the weapon into the night sky, the single shot echoing in the still silence. He knew no-one would care about the shot … there had been too much gunfire in the city the past year for one shot to matter. Despite Velonin's bravado Nikolai grimaced at the sharp, acrid smell of urine that rose from the man.

"Godalmighty, man! Haven't you any control at all?" He slipped the Luger back in his pants belt and bent down to glare into Velonin's pale face. "Now then, my lad - I'll let you go only because I promised Rivka I would. But listen hard, Velonin. If you ever, ever show your face anywhere near Rivka again, I'll kill you. I know you're on the run, and I know the NKVD want to get their hot little hands on you as well, but for Rivka's sake I'll give you an hour before I tell 'em. And then you'd better be well clear, or they'll finish what I started, and I might even load their guns for 'em. You understand?" He saw Gavri nod, the muscles jumping in tension along the man's jaw. "Righto. I'm off home, and you'd better pray she's all right from that beating you gave her, you little shit. And then … then I'm going to marry her. She won't have to carry your sad excuse of a name for any longer than I can help. Her name will be Koulikov, and so will my son's, Velonin - she'll be my wife, and I swear to God I'll protect her from bastards like you with my life. So … stay away, and you'll live longer, all right?"

Without waiting for an answer Nikolai straightened, thought about kicking Velonin in the arse and then had second thoughts. He didn't want to get piss on his boots. Turning away from the man kneeling in the ruined alley, Nikolai Koulikov walked away and didn't look back.

******************

When Nikolai got home Rivka was still in bed - but to his horror she was curled on her side, arms clutched around her swollen stomach. She was sobbing his name as he tried to gather her into his arms.

"Niko! P … please, Niko … get Oleg … quickly … oh God! I think … I think the baby's coming … too soon … ahhh!!!"

Nikolai hesitated. He didn't want to leave her, but when he saw another spasm of pain hit her he was out of the door in seconds and running faster than he had ever run in his life.

And all the time the words ran through his mind like a litany.

Too soon … the baby was coming too soon …

*******************

Nikolai Koulikov paced up and down the cellar as Oleg Chernyenko muttered and 'hemmed' behind the heavy curtains surrounding the big bed. Rivka's pain-filled moans had subsided at least, but still Oleg didn't appear. Nikolai looked at the clock on the mantlepiece and fretted anew - an hour. Oleg had been with Rivka an hour, and still he hadn't emerged to let him know what was going on. He jumped as something touched his sleeve, and he looked down into Anna's beautiful grey eyes.

"Sit down, Nikolai, before you fall down, please!" Anna's brow furrowed with concern. The big man was exhausted, she could tell.

"I can't, little one. What the hell is going on in there? Dear God, why won't someone tell - "

His words were interrupted as Oleg finally emerged from behind the curtains and looked at his wife of six weeks.

"Anna … could you come and give Rivka a hand to clean up a little … she'll feel a little better once she's had a wash …"

Anna nodded, patted Nikolai on the arm in assurance, and slipped behind the curtain to help Rivka. Nikolai could barely control his temper.

"Well??? What the hell's going on?? How's Rivka?? Is the baby all right? For God's sake, man -"

Oleg smiled wearily and draped his old stethoscope around his neck, rolled up his sleeves and began to wash his hands in the bowl of water Anna had left for him.

"She's fine, Nikolai. Both she and the baby. Just fine."

Nikolai's eyes widened. "She's all right? The baby's here? Now?"

Oleg had to grin.

"No, I mean the pregnancy is doing well enough, Nikolai. False contractions. The combination of stress and bruising brought on false contractions - don't worry, it's very common. It's just a bit unnerving, to say the least."

Nikolai almost forgot to breath in relief. Rivka was all right. The baby was all right. Dear God, they were both fine! He was suddenly faint, and Oleg dropped the towel he was using to dry his hands and guided Nikolai to his big old chair, the brawny sniper collapsing into it as his legs almost gave out under him.

"Easy now, Nikolai … that's it … calm down. You're hyperventilating, my friend … Rivka's going to be all right …" Oleg crouched beside Nikolai for a minute or two, then he frowned as he noticed the ragged, bloody cut on Nikolai's wrist. "How did you get this, and what the hell has been going on?"

Nikolai felt his heart ease from its panicked beating and looked up at the young doctor. He couldn't stop himself from flinching as Oleg began to clean the shallow gash.

"Gavri Velonin, that's what happened. The bastard came back. He hit Rivka then tried to take a knife to me. He failed."

Oleg could see from the gleam of fury in Nikolai's face that every word of it was true, not that he would have even considered for one moment that Rivka's injuries had been inflicted by Nikolai. He carried on wiping away dried blood then dressed the wound.

"There. It doesn't need stitches, but keep it clean if you can. So, what happened to the bastard?" Oleg was quietly vehement - a man who hit a woman wasn't a man at all in his opinion, especially a woman as heavily pregnant as Rivka.

Nikolai smiled grimly.

"Don't worry, he won't be back - and if you want to know if I killed him … no, I didn't, although I was tempted, I can tell you. I kicked his carcass out and told him the NKVD was after him - which is true. I also told him I'd be telling them where he was if he didn't clear off, which isn't. I don't want those miserable bastards sniffing around Rivka, especially right now." Nikolai frowned. "Oleg, you can be honest with me - is Rivka really all right? I mean, she was in so much pain - "

Oleg nodded. "I'm being honest, Nikolai. She'll be sore for a few days - Velonin wasn't gentle on her and her abdomen's badly bruised. The burn shouldn't scar, and she'll heal in time, but there is one thing I want you to watch out for." He saw Nikolai's eyes widen. "Now don't get in a panic, man! It's a concern, I'll admit, but with luck it'll all blow over and she'll be none the worse for it. But … if she begins to bleed, you come and get me straight away. She took a bad fall Nikolai, and there's a slight danger that the placenta could tear or come away - in which case …" He took a deep breath. "Still, baby's heartbeat is strong and regular, and all of the indications are good. Just keep her quiet and resting, and I think everything should work out. So, stop panicking, and get some rest - both of you!"

Nikolai nodded, relieved. But a thought struck him.

"Oleg … what would have happened if … if the baby had started to come? Would it … I mean, could it … survive? Rivka thought it was too soon - "

Oleg laid his hand on Nikolai's shoulder in reassurance.

"Now, that's an easy one - Rivka has about five or six weeks to go, and I can assure you many babies survive despite being that early. They're often small and prone to infection, but given good care they often make it. So, should the worst happen, the baby has a chance. Happy now?"

Nikolai swallowed and nodded. Things were looking up a little from the disaster the day had become, and he breathed easier. Any further discussion was immediately forgotten as Anna pulled back the curtain and revealed a Rivka looking pale and a little worse for wear but now thankfully out of danger.

"Someone wants to see you, Nikolai!" Anna smiled, glad that Rivka wasn't too badly hurt.

Nikolai was beside her in moments, Rivka reaching out to hold his hand as he settled beside her on the bed.

"Well, Missus, you nearly bloody well frightened me to death, you know that don't you?" The relief in Nikolai's voice was almost palpable. He thought he had never seen Rivka so vulnerable, so pale … so frail.

Rivka had problems holding back the tears. She had been terrified, not just of Gavri, but of losing the child, and, at one point, of losing Nikolai.

"Oh, Niko - "

Even the thought of what had happened made her tremble, and Nikolai frowned in concern.

"Now then, Rivka, don't be getting yourself in an uproar! You're supposed to be resting, and you're going to do just that, y'hear?"

She nodded, just glad to feel his big hand squeeze hers gently. Anna came to stand beside him, slipping into her coat.

"I'll be back in the morning, Rivka. Oleg will check on you before he goes to work, and I'll stay with you for the day - I'm on night-shift this week, so you, Nikolai, will go to work and not worry. I'll be here, so there's nothing to concern yourselves about." She leaned over and patted Rivka's arm. "Everything will be all right, I promise."

Oleg packed up his things, and after quiet goodnights, Rivka and Nikolai were left alone.

They were still for long minutes, digesting the events of the evening, then Rivka lifted her wounded arm, long fingers stroking Nikolai's tense brow. He leaned into her touch, eyes closing at her loving caress, and he caught her fingers and kissed them gently.

"You should sleep woman, you've had a rough day. Do you need anything? Tea? Some soup? Anything?" The soft baritone was velvet with love for her.

Rivka smiled.

"Only you, my Niko. That's all I need. All I want is for you to come to bed and hold me." Her voice trembled. "Hold me, Nikolai … please, I want to feel you hold me as I sleep …"

Nikolai leaned forward and kissed her with love-softened lips, making Rivka smile at the tickle of his moustache, then he undressed and slipped into bed beside her, propping himself up on pillows as Rivka managed to ease her bruised body into his welcoming grasp. Settling back against his broad chest she sighed. His arms were around her as she snuggled into his shoulder, and at last she could relax. In Nikolai's care she felt safe, and she curled into his body, feeling his kiss on the top of her head. His voice was a mere whisper, a soft rumble in the deep chest where his kind, generous heart beat only for her.

"Sleep my lady … my Rivka … my wife …" Nikolai murmured into the wealth of her beautiful hair, and already he felt her breathing quieten as she drifted into slumber. But as her breath evened out he heard the merest hint of drowsy words.

"Always, my Niko … always … forever …"

And through the long night he held her close, watching over her and the child she carried, soothing her bad dreams and easing her pain, and whispered words of love that only she could hear.

****************
Over the next few days Rivka slept a great deal, ate when she was told to and marvelled over Nikolai's tender care of her. He fussed and nagged and made her laugh, and at night he held her in his arms and chased away the nightmares so she could sleep in peace.

Slowly she improved, the bruising faded and the burn on her arm began to heal. Her pregnancy carried on with no other problems, and they both heaved a sigh of relief when Oleg told her any danger had past. Now all Rivka and Nikolai had to do was await the child's birth, and they quietly made tentative plans to marry.

Her first day out of bed coincided with Nikolai's first proper leave in six weeks. This one precious day off was spent quietly, Rivka curled next to Nikolai on the sofa as they talked and listened to music. In the evening he made supper and then settled down to work on an old crib he had found in a bombed-out building whilst out on a training foray with a class of young snipers. They had cheerily borne it home to the cellar and their youthful banter had lightened Rivka's heart, rousing her from the depression brought on by Gavri's appearance.

Nikolai was fixing one of the rockers back onto the body of the crib when a knocking was heard at the door. Sighing, he left his work and answered it, only to find a young corporal he had seen around headquarters standing there nervously. Gesturing at the lad to come in, Nikolai offered him a seat but the young soldier declined. Rivka lay on the sofa sewing, and she raised an eyebrow at Nikolai. He shrugged.

"So, boy, what's the problem? This is my one day off, you know."

The lad nodded and swallowed shyly. This was his first meeting with 'The Bear', and he was a little awed.

"Er, sorry, Comrade Colonel, only Comrade Commissar Danilov told me to come and fetch you. He has something he has to discuss with you, he says, and he gave me this." The young corporal gave Nikolai a slip of paper. Nikolai unfolded it and his eyebrow raised as he read the one word written there.

Velonin

His chest tightened. Something was wrong, he knew it.

"What is it, Niko?" Rivka was curious.

Nikolai folded the paper and sighed, careful to show no sign of his concern.

"Oh, just some blasted paperwork, Rivka. I forgot to reorganise my schedule for next week, Igor has deadlines to keep and I'll have to go and sort it out." Lifting his jacket he put it on then settled his pilotka on his head. "I won't be long." He leaned over and kissed her. "You behave and don't do anything until I get back, all right?"

Rivka's cheeks dimpled into a smile.

"Tell Igor he's to come to dinner next week - he's lonely, Niko, and I want to make sure he's eating properly."

Nikolai couldn't control the grin that broke onto his rugged face. Typical. Rivka would mother the whole world if she got a chance.

"I will, woman! I don't know, Rivka - you'd think the boy was starving to death the way you fuss over him. If I didn't know better, I'd be jealous!"

Rivka returned his grin.

"Ach, away with you, you big idiot! Hurry up and do your paperwork and then come home, you hear me? I'll have some tea ready for you."

Nikolai turned to leave and ushered the young soldier out of the door, the corporal saluting Rivka smartly and with great respect. Rivka smiled in charmed amusement and returned to her sewing.

*****************

Nikolai had never seen Igor Semyonovich Danilov in such an agitated state. Ushering Nikolai into his office, Igor shut the door behind him and turned to the big sniper.

"He's dead, Nikolai. Gavri Velonin's dead."

Nikolai Koulikov blinked.

"Dead?? What d'you mean, dead? He can't be ... well, he was alive and kicking the last time I saw him."

Only a few chosen people were privy to the information about Gavri Velonin's assault on Rivka ... Oleg Chernyenko and his wife Anna, Danilov, and Corporal Nikitin and his motley crew, who had been charged with the task of keeping an eye out for the black marketeer. If they spotted him they were to tell Nikolai immediately, and the grimy little corporal had bared rotting teeth in loathing when Oleg had described how Velonin had hit Rivka. The little mechanic and his bunch of scruffy cronies adored Rivka, and Oleg had to stop them from going to hunt the man down in the ruins and dumping his carcass in the river.

Igor ran a hand over his face and continued.

"A bunch of drunken soldiers found him in the early hours of this morning when they were on their way back to their billets. It looks as though his black-marketeering friends found him and ... well, it's not a pretty sight. It appears he double-crossed them and they've certainly made him pay, Nikolai."

Nikolai sank down into a chair and sighed heavily. Well, this was a turn-up for the books.

"I told the stupid bastard to leave Stalingrad, Igor! I told him he wasn't safe here, from me or from his pals. Or the NKVD for that matter. Silly idiot didn't listen, did he? What's going to happen now?"

Igor sat on the edge of his desk.

"I thought I'd let you know as soon as I could, Nikolai, although it appears the case is cut and dried - they caught the men that did it about two hours ago, and they've already confessed."

Nikolai snorted at that one - the confessions would have been very painfully gained, he guessed.

"All right. So, it's a case of dumping what's left of him in a grave and then Rivka and I can get on with living. It's certainly simplified matters, I must say."

Igor frowned.

"It's not quite as simple as that, Nikolai, I'm sorry. The NKVD Major in charge of the investigations is here, and he's a little curious as to why Velonin was here in Stalingrad - he's asking questions, and I don't quite know how I can put him off talking to you and Rivka."

Nikolai's head jerked up.

"He knows about Rivka?? That she lives here? How?"

Igor raised his hands in bewilderment.

"I have no idea, Nikolai, I swear. It should be all right though. There's nothing to indicate he came into contact with you - "

Nikolai's face paled with shock.

"Bloody hell! The papers! The divorce papers were in his inside pocket! He signed 'em and I gave him a copy! Where the hell would he have got 'em if it wasn't from Rivka?"

It was Igor's turn to be shocked, but he thought about it for a moment, and signalled to Nikolai to stay where he was as he left his office and headed off down the corridor to the left. He returned minutes later with a brown paper parcel and dumping it on his desk untied it, revealing a blood-stained pile of clothing and a few odds and ends of personal items.

"Velonin's personal effects. One of my men bagged them before the body was sent to the hospital for a post-mortem. The NKVD major won't have seen this lot yet as he only arrived an hour ago. Wait a minute ..." Igor sifted through the belongings and grunted in relief. "They haven't been itemised yet, thank goodness. Here, have a look ..."

Between them they eased open the blood-soaked jacket, and Nikolai pulled out the now red-stained divorce papers. Igor shook his head as Nikolai offered the papers to him.

"No, Nikolai. I don't want them. Take them with you ... burn them if you can. You don't need them now anyway."

Nikolai gazed at the young political officer, understanding with perfect clarity what the boy was doing - he was tampering with evidence. If Igor was found out, he could face a firing squad. And he was doing it so that he, Nikolai Koulikov, and his Rivka were be untouched by the foulness that was Gavri Velonin. If the NKVD had any inkling that Rivka had seen Velonin before his death, they would be unforgiving in their pursuit of the extent of that involvement. And Nikolai didn't want the NKVD anywhere near Rivka. He wanted Gavri's ending to be as tidy as possible, and then he and Rivka could carry on with their lives. He clapped Igor Danilov on the shoulder.

"Thank you, lad. You don't know how much I appreciate this, I can tell you."

Igor smiled at the big sniper and his brown eyes twinkled behind the wire-rimmed spectacles.

"It just makes everything a lot less complicated, Nikolai, believe me. And anyway, you're my friends. That's what friends do, isn't it? Help each other?"

Nikolai nodded, once more astounded at the kindness of the people around him ... and all this was because of his Rivka, the woman who had made his life worth living. He tucked the papers in his jacket pocket and sighed.

"Right. Let's get this lot tidied up, and then I suppose I'd better talk to this Major. Come on lad, let's put this stuff back where it belongs, shall we?"

Between them they tied up what was left of Gavri Velonin's pitiful belongings, returned them to the store and then headed off down to the hospital. There they would meet up with the NKVD Major who was viewing the corpse, and Nikolai could put him straight on a few things.

************

Danilov had been right - Gavri Velonin was not a pretty sight.

Oleg was finishing the post-mortem when Igor and Nikolai arrived, and Nikolai gazed dispassionately at the corpse lying on the rough table in the hospital outbuilding put aside for such things. Igor blenched, but Nikolai was unmoved. He had seen worse.
Oleg wiped his bloody hands on his apron and lifted a needle to sew up the incisions he had made.

"They certainly made sure that he suffered, Nikolai. See ... here." Nikolai caught the glisten of bloody, gleaming bone. Oleg continued. "It was methodical, brutal … they tortured him before putting him out of his misery."
Velonin's ravaged, once-handsome face was now bloody and almost unrecognisable.

"He was mutilated, Nikolai, accurately and with great care." Oleg grimaced. "He took a while to die, I would think, and they removed his feet and hands and his ..." He cleared his throat. "Let's say he would never have sired any children even if he had lived. When they had finished they cut his throat."

Nikolai gazed at the corpse thoughtfully. How he was going to tell Rivka he didn't know, but he wouldn't tell her about this ... about how Gavri Velonin had met his end. The man had paid the price for his betrayal, and that was all there would be to it. He would leave out the details. He would tell her about Velonin's untimely death, and that would be enough. But his train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind him, and the voice when it came made him stiffen in shock.

"Well, well! It's been a long time, Comrade Lieutenant! Or should I say, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel."

Igor Semyonovich Danilov saw Nikolai's face become set with hatred, but the big sniper's voice was deceptively soft.

"Anton Krylov. I'd know that voice anywhere."

Nikolai turned and gazed at the man standing before him ... tall, open-faced, straight-backed and neat as a new pin in the distinctive uniform of the NKVD. He hadn't changed much, Nikolai thought. The short, razor-cropped hair was greyer and thinner, and the face was a little more gaunt, but Major Anton Krylov looked much the same as he had when war broke out. The Anton Krylov who had been the same rank as Lieutenant Nikolai Koulikov, newly returned to Russia from Gnössen's famous sniper school. The same Lieutenant Anton Krylov who was charged with the task of 'interrogating' the big sniper in the infamous labour camp at Krasnykh Komandirov Street in Kiev on a cold spring morning in 1939.

Krylov smiled, and Igor Danilov suddenly understood what people meant when someone was described as 'reptilian'. His teeth were uncommonly even, white and slightly too small, and Krylov's smile did not reach the pallid grey eyes. Igor was hard-pressed to control a shudder of revulsion.

Nikolai and Krylov studied one another for long moments, until the sparely-built major turned to the stainless steel table in the corner of the dank room. On it rested two files. Nikolai guessed one of those files concerned the lately-deceased Gavri Velonin, but the other ... the other one was vaguely familiar. Then the memories came flooding back, and he remembered seeing that file sitting on a desk in a stuffy room lit only by a table lamp, and he remembered how it was opened constantly to the same sheet of paper. His confession, the one that said he was a traitor, the one he refused to sign, knowing that if he did he would be instantly executed. Perhaps, he thought idly, it's still in there ...

"So, Comrade Colonel, here we are again." Krylov's voice jarred him back to the present as the man lifted Velonin's file and turned back to the body on the table. "It seems so long ago since we last met - yet it must only be, what, four years or so?"

Nikolai nodded, careful not to show any emotion.

Emotion is a weakness ... emotion can get you killed ... Krylov will know ...

"Give or take a month or two. It's not something a man forgets in a hurry, Major." Nikolai emphasised Krylov's rank. It would rankle the man that Nikolai, his victim, had indeed gained a higher rank than his torturer. From what he could remember, Krylov was exceedingly ambitious. To his immense satisfaction he saw the hint of a wince in Krylov's face.

"The war has been good to you, Comrade Colonel, I see." Krylov regained his composure quickly. "When we first met you were a newly-promoted Lieutenant, and here you are, a fully-fledged Lieutenant Colonel. Perhaps, if you play your cards right, you'll make General before you retire. Not bad for a damn' 'ranker'."

Nikolai Koulikov grinned, and Krylov regarded the steel teeth in the wolfish smile. Nikolai decided to rub it in.

"Not bad at all, Major, for a barely literate, bastard-born farm serf, hey? But then you wouldn't know about that, would you, Krylov? Seeing as you came from a good family ... albeit from the wrong side of the blanket."

This time his words brought a glitter of anger to the grey eyes. Nikolai had hit a nerve and he knew it, with his reference to Krylov's aristocratic father and his low-born mother who had been the man's mistress. Krylov had garnered a good education and recognition from his father, but any inheritance had gone to his legal half-siblings. Krylov was, just like Nikolai Koulikov, a bastard, and he hated it.

Krylov smiled his mirthless smile.

"Enough of these pleasantries, Comrade Colonel, and let's get to the matter in hand, shall we?" He stood beside Velonin's mutilated, stiffened corpse and referred to the file. "Gavri Velonin, a Jew, black marketeer and now a statistic. I see this sort of thing all the time, and as far as I'm concerned he's one less troublemaker I have to worry about." Krylov put the file down on the table once more and lifted the other thicker file ... Nikolai's file. "Now, Comrade Colonel, the fact that Velonin got himself butchered by his own kind doesn't concern me in the least - we have the culprits, and they're being dealt with as we speak." He looked at his watch blandly, and let a small wry grin crease his thin lips as the crack of two single shots rang out in the cool evening, somewhere along the shores of the Volga. "See? Problem solved. But there is one little thing that intrigues me, Comrade. Can you tell me why Velonin came back to Stalingrad? Why come into a ruined city when you're on the run? Whatever could he find here? Someone to give him money, perhaps? Hide him, even?"

Nikolai watched as Krylov pulled out a stool from beneath the table and sat down. Oleg continued to stitch up Velonin's corpse, but he had listened to the discussion between the two soldiers, his dark eyes guarded. Igor Danilov just stood in the doorway, still pale, but reasonably calm. Krylov opened the thick file, pulled out several papers and studied them nonchalantly as minutes ticked by. When he finally spoke his voice was sibilant and soft.

"Perhaps, Lieutenant Colonel Koulikov, he was here to see his wife. A woman called Rivka Velonina ... your woman, I believe she is now called. Would that be a correct assumption?"

Nikolai pondered the question, then nodded.

"I suppose you could say that. Yes, Rivka is ... was, married to this piece of shit, and yes, she is what you might call 'my' woman ... but whether Velonin was here to see her or not, I couldn't tell you. I'm going to marry Rivka Velonin, Major, and don't you think if I'd seen Velonin I would have broken the stupid bastard's neck? You say you know me, Major ... and you know I wouldn't hesitate. But he was obviously killed before he could do so, and my problem is solved. Good riddance, is what I say." Nikolai relaxed back against the wall, leaning his broad shoulders against the damp brickwork. His whole demeanour was that of a man in control and unconcerned with Krylov's investigation.

Krylov continued looking at the papers. He did not seem to have heard Nikolai's words.

"Hmmm ... perhaps, Comrade Colonel, I should speak to this ah, 'woman' of yours. A Jewess, is she not? Not exactly wise, marrying a Jew, is it? It may hamper your meteoric rise through the ranks."

Nikolai smiled and straightened.

"Oh, I don't think I'm too worried by that. And I certainly wouldn't think about talking to Rivka, Major. It wouldn't be a wise move ... not wise at all. You have your culprits and you should be grateful that your case has been closed so easily. Rivka can't bring any light to bear on the matter, and her health is delicate at the moment. So I suggest you drop the whole thing, Major."

The dank air was laden with unspoken menace.

Krylov looked at Oleg and Igor, and realised that he would get no support on the matter, and whatever was being said in this room of death would stay there. He was foiled. No matter, he decided. He had been thwarted by Koulikov once before in the prison camp, when despite the various persuasive methods he had thought up, Krylov had been unable to force Koulikov to confess. That had lost Krylov his promotion, although when Koulikov had been thrown out into the muddy street he had been more dead than alive. How he had survived the abuse Anton Krylov had no idea, but here he was, large as life and a Lieutenant Colonel to boot.

No, Krylov thought. I'll bide my time. One day, Lieutenant Colonel Nikolai- bloody-Koulikov, you'll make a mistake. And then you'll pay ...

He replaced the papers in the file with a sense of finality and stood.

"I'll have the death certificate forwarded to his widow. Perhaps we'll meet again sometime, Comrade Colonel. Goodnight."

Major Anton Krylov of the NKVD turned, left the room and closed the door behind him.

Nikolai stood looking at the closed door for a long time, then he turned his gaze to his two friends.

"I never thought I'd see his ugly mush again. Just goes to show you can never be sure of anything, hey?"

His job finished, Oleg pulled a grubby sheet over what was left of Gavri Velonin. He saw the pain on Nikolai's face and was concerned.

"It was him, wasn't it? Krylov was the man who tortured you."

Nikolai gave them both a mirthless grin, his steel teeth glittering in the ill-lit room.

"Well, all I can say is, there wasn't a sickle, but there certainly was a hammer." He clapped Igor on the shoulder. "C'mon lad, let's away from here. You have work to do and I have to go and break the news to Rivka. The whole thing is nothing but a bloody mess, so it is. Still, at least it means there's nothing to stop us marrying. That's one good thing to come out of it I suppose ..."

With those parting words, Nikolai headed off out of the door and down the street back to his beloved Rivka.

*******************

When Nikolai told Rivka Gavri was dead, she wept a little, then dried her eyes and hugged him. Nikolai held her tight for a while, then made her a mug of tea and put her to bed.

But when Rivka awoke with a start in the middle of the night, she discovered Nikolai sitting in his big chair gazing into the dampened fire of the old stove, much as he had done the night Natalya Raskolnikova had died. He told her to go back to sleep … he would join her soon, he said, and he was true to his word as an hour later Rivka felt him crawl wearily into bed beside her. She opened her arms and held him to her, knowing something was bothering him, but he fell asleep without telling her.

When the nightmares came, and he was sent yelling with terror into trembling wakefulness, Rivka knew then that the memories had returned of choking, bloody agony in his lungs and faceless men who held him down as they did unspeakable things to his body and soul.

But as she cradled him in her arms and kissed away his tears, rocking him gently until the fear faded, she didn't know that this time his nightmares were filled with dead grey eyes and a lean, pale face that smiled with deadly malice as the pain went on, and on, and on …

Nikolai Koulikov knew then that this was not the last he had seen of Major Anton Krylov of the NKVD.

To Chapter 19

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