He read through the initial findings about the cause of the explosion, the city-wide loss of power that still hadn’t been restored, and the multiple fires that had broken out overnight. Then he scanned the list of the deceased: twenty-seven power plant workers, sixteen children, and two teachers. Finally he reviewed the missing: three more workers and five more children, all presumed dead, and one scientist, un­accounted for. He recognised the scientist’s surname from the reports he received from the GRU. But he was sure he’d seen it somewhere more recently too, much more recently. He checked the names of the dead, and found it halfway down the list of children.

Chapter 28

Chapter 28

It hadn’t taken long for Zukolev to be moved to a private room in Petrozavodsk hospital. He believed this was because the hospital staff had realised just how important he was. But in reality the doctors had needed their intensive care beds for the more seriously wounded, and Zukolev’s injuries had been relatively minor—just a broken arm and a deep gash across his chin, once all the dust had been cleaned off him.

Now he was propped up in his bed, his injured arm strapped to his side, and his stomach held down by tights sheets. He had a bandage across his jaw, but he was still feeding himself raspberries with his free hand. When he’d demanded them as soon as he’d been transferred to his private room, the nurses looking after him had thought it was some kind of delirious joke brought on by shock, until a man in dusty overalls arrived at the ward station, punnet in hand.

He was savouring a particularly large berry when the door to his room opened and Medev stepped inside.

‘Who are you?’ he asked, berry juice slipping across his lower lip.

Unlike Zukolev, Medev preferred the more anonymous attire of a dark suit to the general’s uniform he could have worn. So Zukolev had no idea that he was talking to someone unfathomably more powerful than him.

Medev quietly closed the door behind him before responding, ‘I’m the person who has to clean up the mess you’ve made.’

Then he crossed the short distance to Zukolev’s bedside, picked up the bowl of berries, and moved them out of reach.

‘How dare you come in here like this.’ Zukolev couldn’t believe this stranger’s impudence. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’

‘You’re Major Yuri Zukolev,’ Medev replied, now at the foot of his bed. ‘GRU administrator of Povenets B. Charged with the safe keeping of three hundred souls.’ His voice was measured, emotionless. ‘And responsible for the deaths of fifty-four of them.’

Zukolev’s face paled. Suddenly, for the first time in a very long time, he was scared.

‘You’re KGB,’ Zukolev said, his voice faint.

Medev didn’t need to confirm Zukolev’s suspicion. His presence was enough.