up the rope ladder with both arms, found a rung, and started to clamber, uncomfortably aware that the arrival of a Soviet frontier patrol officer ought to have looked different.
It was a pretty good bet that the cutter was carrying not only scrap iron but smuggled goods; the reception its crew might give their rescuers would not necessarily be friendly. Leonid made sure that his men were close behind him, reached the lopsided railing, and pulled himself on board. In such weather, every formality was dispensed with; the ship’s mate led the way for Chevken to follow. Leonid wiggled his toes in his boots, which had taken on a quantity of ice water. The bulkhead leading to the wheelhouse opened, and a cold gust of wind blew the visitors inside.
The captain of the cutter was a bearded man with Kyrgyz eyes. “You’re bringing some shitty weather with you,” he said to Leonid by way of greeting.
“You’re in a restricted area,” said Leonid, disinclined to make small talk. “Your ship is blocking the entrance to the harbor,” he went on, as if he were telling the captain something he didn’t know.
“I radioed to say we’d sprung a leak.”
“The harbor entrance must be cleared as quickly as possible. We’re initiating a salvage operation.” Seeing only two others in the room, Leonid asked, “How many men do you have on board?”
“Fourteen, Captain.” The commander of the freighter put on a show of obsequiousness.
“Call them together,” Leonid ordered. By then, the third member of his group had also arrived. “I’m going to inspect the ship. Bill of lading and logbook, please,” he added, a little more courteously. “Tell your people to have their papers ready. Any foreign nationals?”
The captain shook his head. “All Soviet citizens.”
“Soviet citizen?” Leonid pointed to the helmsman, whose skin was almost black.
The mate answered for him. “He’s a Tuvan from the Yenisei valley.”
Leonid placed himself in front of the captain. “Open your cargo hold.”
“As you wish, Comrade.” The captain took some keys out of a metal box. “One bulkhead, however, is sealed.”
“According to your radio message, you’re carrying only scrap iron. Why the sealed bulkhead?”
“I couldn’t say. The stuff was brought on board and sealed as per the shipowner’s instructions.”
Leonid turned to Chevken and asked, “Do we have the Geiger counter with us?” The Nivkh nodded. Leonid then ordered the third man to begin salvage operations. The man took out a walkie-talkie. Leonid didn’t feel that he was under any threat from the crew, but the sealed bulkhead made him uneasy. It wasn’t unusual for shippers to enhance the market value of their freight with contraband. The captain of the cutter couldn’t have given much thought to the possibility that his ship would get into distress, and he would try to prevent the confiscation of his cargo. Leonid’s hand rested on his holster. Although he’d never had to use his service weapon while on a mission, the pistol was the object of his special care. The reason for his attention lay half a year in the past.
Shortly after Leonid’s duty on Sakhalin Island began, the garrison was struck by a severe earthquake. The tremors started after midnight. Jolted out of sleep, Captain Nechayev didn’t figure out at first what was happening. His iron bedstead was vibrating and the lamp above him swaying back and forth as though someone had given it a good push. Leonid turned on the light. Shadows flitted over the walls and the furniture. The quarters he was in had been built at ground level without any special anchoring. It was late summer, and the weather was pleasant; Leonid looked outside and saw soldiers in their underwear and others with their pajamas tucked into their boots. Wearing his uniform trousers and a pair of slippers, he left the building and watched from the parade ground as the trembling earth sent the wooden barracks into strange convulsions. Here a window burst into pieces, there a roof crown fell off or a wall collapsed outward, exposing the interior like rooms in a dollhouse: bunk beds, chairs, tables with liquor bottles rolling off of them. Leonid hurried to a briefing with the major, who ordered him to have his men fall in properly. Leonid, who hadn’t yet been assigned to the technical unit, passed the order to his sergeants. A few minutes later, the platoon under his command had fallen into line as directed. Leonid allowed the men some time to sort out their equipment, and while they were doing