Siberian Red

severed hand, held out as if waiting for giant coins to be placed in its palm.
    ‘This place used to be a sculpture studio,’ Braninko explained. ‘Some of these have been here since the Revolution. When they moved me in here fifteen years ago, they couldn’t be bothered to clear out the statues.’
    ‘Couldn’t you get rid of them yourself?’
    Braninko laughed. ‘Young man, they are made of bronze! It would take a dozen men to lift any one of these statues. Besides, I have grown used to them.’
    Kirov stopped before a larger-than-life statue of a man wearing the cocked hat of an admiral. ‘Do you know who they are?’
    ‘No idea,’ replied Braninko. ‘To me, these statues are like the bones of dinosaurs. They may once have ruled the earth, but all that remains of them now are harmless, empty shells.’ He hung his overcoat upon the outstretched finger of the hand, exchanging it for a heavy, grey shawl-collared sweater which fastened with wooden toggles up the front. ‘Of course, a day might come when the titans of our own generation are hidden from the light in dusty rooms. Until that time, these relics will be my companions.’
    ‘It smells of smoke in here,’ remarked Kirov.
    ‘Yes. Those are the Okhrana files. During the Revolution, the Headquarters of the Tsar’s Secret Police was burned by . . . by . . .’ He seemed to have lost his train of thought.
    ‘By revolutionaries?’ suggested Kirov, hoping to steer the man back on course.
    ‘You can call them that if you want to!’ blustered Braninko. ‘Vandals are what I call them! Hoodlums! Destroying a place of records is inexcusable. Information does not care whose side it’s on. Information is what helps us to make sense of the world. It points us to the truth. Without it, we are at the mercy of every self-serving liar who comes along. Believe me, Comrade Major, when you find yourself talking to a man who keeps the truth from you and tells you it’s for your own good, you are dealing with a common criminal! Fortunately, they destroyed only a portion of the files. Those that could be salvaged were brought here to Archive 17, still smelling of smoke, I’m afraid.’
    ‘I am looking for the file on Captain Isaac Ryabov, of the Imperial Cavalry. Is it possible that his documents survived the fire?’
    ‘I’m afraid not, Major. Everything from the letter K onwards in the Okhrana files was destroyed. But I see you already have a file on this man.’
    Kirov handed it over.
    ‘Only one page?’ asked Braninko, when he had looked inside the folder.
    ‘There’s no information on Captain Ryabov from before the Revolution. I thought it might simply be missing from the file, and I was informed that I might find the information here.’
    ‘As I said‚ Major‚ everything beyond the letter K went up in smoke.’ Braninko continued to study the contents of the folder. ‘I see here that Captain Ryabov was transferred to Borodok.’
    ‘Yes, that is correct.’
    Braninko cleared his throat. ‘Major, I don’t know how familiar you are with the gulag system, but I can tell you that Ryabov won’t be coming back from there.’
    ‘You are quite right, Professor. Captain Ryabov has been murdered.’
    ‘Ah,’ Braninko went back to studying the sheet.
    ‘Is there nothing you can do to help?’
    The professor shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Major.’
    Kirov sighed with disappointment.
    ‘Unless,’ said Braninko.
    ‘Unless what?’
    ‘There are some other documents.’ The professor spoke quietly, as if afraid the statues might be listening.
    ‘Well, what are we waiting for? May I see them?’
    ‘No. That’s the problem. You may not.’
    ‘But why not?’
    ‘There exists a set of papers known as the Blue File.’
    ‘I have never heard of it.’
    ‘Few people have. The contents of the file are secret. Even the existence of the file is classified information.’
    ‘What’s so special about it?’
    ‘The Blue File contains the names of spies who operated within the Okhrana.’
    ‘But that doesn’t make any sense,’ protested Kirov. ‘Back then all Russian spies operated within the Okhrana. They were part of the Tsar’s Secret Service. They answered to the Okhrana.’
    ‘You misunderstand me, Comrade Major. The Blue File does not contain the names of Russian agents who spied for the Okhrana. These were agents who spied on the Okhrana.’
    Kirov blinked. ‘You mean to tell me there were agents who spied on our own Secret