The Holy Thief by William Ryan

him. The Party had to take the utmost care to protect the State, of course, but within reason, and the expectation was that things would be different under Ezhov. However, now there were rumors that Ezhov had declared, on taking up his new position, that it would be better that ten innocent people should suffer than one spy go free—that “When you chop wood, chips fly.” Korolev sighed and stood up from the table, imagining a host of innocent chips on a sawmill floor. Still, his filing techniques, clear and logical as they were, should operate to protect the innocent, or so he reassured himself.
    With this happier thought in mind he put on the rest of his clothes. The image of the indiscriminate axe wouldn’t leave him, but he did his best to brush it aside and, putting his notes in his briefcase, closed the apartment door quietly behind him.
    He’d just succeeded in clicking the lock gently shut when he heard a cough behind him and turned to see a bundle of black woolen shawl on three legs swaying precariously from side to side. On closer examination, one of the three legs turned out to be a walking stick.
    “So you’re the Ment ?”
    “ Ment? That’s not a very polite way to refer to a Militiaman, Citizeness.”
    “What are you going to do, arrest me? I’m eighty-three years old and, anyway, I’ve been to prison before. It’s not so bad. They feed you quite well and the conversation is entertaining. Quite intellectual sometimes.”
    Korolev looked for a means of escape, but she had the corridor blocked and, other than standing his ground, the only option was to retreat into the apartment, which he didn’t have time to do. He pointed to his watch.
    “Excuse me, Citizeness, I’ve no intention of arresting you, but I do have to go to work.”
    “Work, is it? Well listen here, Mr. Ment , what I want to know is this—how did you manage to get an elephant up these old stairs? I found it difficult enough to get up them myself. The elephant must have had a terrible time.”
    “An elephant?”
    “Exactly, an elephant. Which reminds me of a story about sheep. Have you heard it? Some sheep tried to cross the border to Finland. ‘Why are you running away to Finland?’ the border guard asks. ‘It’s the NKVD,’ the sheep say. ‘Comrade Stalin has ordered them to arrest all the elephants.’ ‘But you aren’t elephants,’ the guard says. ‘We know,’ say the sheep, ‘but try telling that to the Chekists.’ It’s a good one, isn’t it?”
    It was also the joke that had cost Mendeleyev a stretch in the Zone and Korolev put a finger to his lips, looking over his shoulder to get the point across. The old woman scowled in response, but said nothing.
    “My exercises,” Korolev said, changing the subject as realization dawned, “that was what the noise was. I apologize if I woke you.”
    “Woke me? My dear Mr. Ment , you woke the whole damned house and half the damned street. Can’t you go to an athletics club or a gymnasium if you must undertake these dreadful exercises? I thought the Judgment Day had finally come, but then I reminded myself that God was a fiction of primitive man’s imagination and concluded it was elephants. I’m sorry it wasn’t—they’d make interesting neighbors. I believe they mate for life, like swans.”
    “I apologize again, Citizeness. Allow me to introduce myself, Captain Alexei Korolev of the Moscow Criminal Investigation Division.”
    “Yes, so I believe,” the old woman said, condescension coloring her voice. “Maria Lobkovskaya. I live below you, although if you do too many more of your exercises you’ll probably come through the ceiling and end up living downstairs too.” She regarded him with a keen eye. “You look like an honest fellow, for a policeman, and not bad looking. Why aren’t you married?”
    “I was married, Citizeness, but it ended.”
    “It was different in my day. You married for life, like the elephants. Now you sign a form and it never