Report from the Ministry of Internal Affairs
October 15th , 04:50:00, 1983
Iveshnya sat in his office, going through a great stack of files in a rapid but precise manner, marking off on certain portions in regular, rhythmic notes in shorthand[1], only the smallest marks of personalization to his writing. After about twenty minutes there was a knock at his door, done in three, stiff successive knocks.
“Come in,” he said flatly, not looking up from his work. The door clicked as the handle was turned and they came in.
“Good morning, comrade supervisor,” they addressed politely, shutting the door behind themselves as they stood in front of Iveshnya’s desk.
“Good morning, comrade Chéng,” Iveshnya bid, not needing to check who had entered. Chéng Dǎi[2] was a rather thin, reasonably tall man, somewhat shorter than Iveshnya. He was dressed in KGB uniform, slim on his frame, well maintained and polished. His hair was a deep glossy black, trimmed to his ears, falling in rectangular patterns from his head. Hung from his brow, however, was a yellow and red paper seal, falling down to the end of his nose. He could not remove it, of course, as he was a jiāngshī[3]. It was for that reason that his skin was so sallow, a purplish grey in colour, his teeth rather pointed, as were his nails.
“I just wanted to check how it went with the party members and the first deputy chairman[4]?” he asked pleasantly, though keeping an official tone of voice. Chéng, as appointed by his supervisors, was the KGB attaché to Iveshnya, not wanting to leave all of their records soling in the hands of an MVD official. The GRU had considered the same, but when they found out Iveshnya was placed at the directorate, they dropped the idea.
“It went well, the official from the Supreme soviet was excited about the plan to implement OGAS[5] from the city out to local areas. The deputy chairman found us adequate, in his own words,” his flat tone not indicating weather the latter comment was intended as an insult, nor that he seemed to care if it was. “While you are here Chéng, I wanted to ask you your thoughts on Deriabin,” Iveshnya asked simply, the emotion in his voice inscrutable as he looked up from the document he was writing on, leaving his pen nestled between his fingers as he rested his hand on his desk.
“… I do agree with your assessment that his sudden posting here is, unusual, especially considering his history. It does warrant investigation, but I’m not sure if our superiors will like us watching him too closely,” he answered in an official tone, choosing his words carefully. Iveshnya regarded him for a moment then gave a subtle nod and struck something out on the document he had begun and stacked it on a pile of others, stapling them together.
“I’ve told him to commute to and from here with Shigemitsu, so that will keep him supervised between the times I specified in Shigemitsu’s file. Keep an eye out yourself, but bar from that… Its best to keep a passive watch on the man, as you said,” Iveshnya droned, handing the jiāngshī the stack of documents as the order marched out of his mouth.
“Of course, comrade supervisor,” Chéng nodded, taking the documents in his grip. He saluted Iveshnya and left the office, shutting the door as he left, leaving the man to his work just as a phone began to ring on Iveshnya’s desk. The KGB officer walked down the hall, holding the documents under his arm as he walked in a stiff gait. As he went down the hall he saw the trio of Volkov, Shigemitsu and Deraibin.
“Good morning,” he greeted them, attempting to be cordial as he smiled at them.
“Good morning sir,” Volkov greeted, saluting the officer, the other two doing the same. Chéng carried on, walking down the hall. The three watched him go, either out of wariness or curiosity. Chéng’s role in the directorate was as the attaché to Iveshnya, both men being of a similar breed, though Chéng was not as severe as the latter. He was considered to be part of Iveshnya’s circle, not least because he was the only other vaguely human individual in the directorate leadership. Curiosity abounded within many in the directorate about the agent and his possible history… Not that anyone would actually try and ask.
Chéng himself simply walked down the hall, aware but uninterested in his coworkers curiosity as he went through the door to the opposite side of the second floor.
The second floor of the ministry building was bisected down the centre, in line with the stair well and elevators. The west wing of the floor was reserved for those in the directorate from the MVD, while the east wing was comprised of primarily KGB and GRU members. While the segregation was not a long term measure to begin with, the KGB especially insisted until the security of the staff was ensured, not wanting any sensitive information to leak. Overall, it still functioned as a singular directorate, despite the disjointed staff for the time-being… Mainly due to the role of Iveshnya and Chéng, in addition to a few a few members of staff who acted as couriers between the two wings. He walked down to the office space then handed out the various sensitive documents to the staff that Iveshnya had assigned to them, keeping the lions share of the moderate stack under his arm as he went to his office and bolted the door shut as he walked through it.
A great deal of the work of the directorate as it currently stood was taking stock of old files, in addition to making sure they were all in order, from the combined archives of the MVD, KGB, GRU and various smaller bodies that had been rolled under the directorates authority. Though, that also involved the cataloguing of current actions of the various ministries, both in terms of spy work, investigation, military infrastructure movements, war plans…
All of it was information worth its weight in gold to the enemies of the USSR.
Chéng finished his work after an hour or two, tying up the piles in labels so he would be sure of their order before he travelled down to the archive room. But, he stopped before he did, pausing as he looked at the files, one at the top containing a picture of an American general, broad faced ang grey-haired wearing a helmet on his head decorated by a set of four silver stars. He felt his eyes linger on it a second longer before he pulled open a drawer in his desk and retrieved a large rectangular folder and opened it up onto his desk.
Inside was a set of near two hundred separate files, each with a small photograph at the top right corner of the obverse, collating the personal information and history, or at the very least the broad strokes, of various member of the ministry. Iveshnya had given it to him following his appointment, ‘to help him in his new role’, he had explained. The officer plucked Deraibin’s file, the one at the bottom of the packet, attached to a folder tab bearing the title Z. O. Deraibin, MOSCOW. He leafed through the document, his eyes checking the small facts he knew. The file again repeated what he already knew-that he had been born in Moscow, the son of a minor MVD official and a watchsmith, that he tended to sleep around, smoked often, and, bar from an interest in cybernetics was never a particularly impressive student… A trait which carried over to his transient placements.
He looked at it again to see if anything seemed strange, but nothing bar from his lacking qualifications seemed to pop-out. He snapped the file closed in one hand and placed it back with the rest before hiding the whole thing back in his desk drawer, locking it with a key. He grabbed the documents that Iveshnya had given him, along with a few smaller articles that he had sorted through himself, and set of for the archive room.
As he did, Deraibin himself was sat at his desk. It was set slightly isolated from his coworkers, the desktop covered with loose paper as he worked through it, idly tapping in information on a typewriter to his left, his fingers sometimes slipping of the keys and getting nicked by the mechanism. He was attempting to settle himself, still unnerved from Iveshnya’s interrogation, a fact not improved by Shigemitsu’s silent hostility towards him. Both men had been surprised to learn that they were literal neighbours, not simply in the same building, which had already come as a slight surprise regardless. In addition, it seemed both men got up at similar times. Deriabin as a habitual early riser, contrary to some impressions, and Shigemitsu to account for his long commute and discomfort sleeping… this unfortunately made it rather hard to doge going in together, something both men would rather do. But, neither man, bar from Rin’s complaints to himself which Deraibin overheard, would likely voice their complaint to their supervisor.
Simply put, they both did not have the confidence to say anything to the man, in Shigemitsu’s case, muttering insults about him was the best his courage would grant him leave upon. Deraibin… little point in considering it.
To make the best of the situation, Deraibin had attempted to be cordial to Shigemitsu, or at least put in more effort than he normally did. Sigemitsu was not that interested in conversation however, flatly ignoring the rabbit every time he attempted to talk to him. Dearibin was unsure whether he was simply not a morning person, both being up around three am, or it was another reason. Whatever it was, he decided not to risk agitating the man even more and kept quiet. While he was non un-used to peoples dislike, it never the less unsettled him, especially if it came from someone close at-hand whom he had to work with.
He checked his watch, a digital Elektronika[6] watch, encased in red plastic that sat in flat contrast to his white fur. The time was 6:07, leaving a long day of work left ahead. He grimaced to himself and reached into his jacket pocket, allowing the cuff of his sleave to fall back over his wrist of his left as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes. As he did he felt his fingers tap the squeeze-lighter inside it, making him pause for a moment, before leaving it to grab a pack of matches from his trouser pocket, briskly striking a match from it and lighting the cigarette as he held it between his lips, sucking in the smoke between his odd teeth. He snuffed out the match into a small ashtray on his desk, a thread of black-grey smoke twisting up from it.
He let the cigarette hang between his lips as he got back to work, steadily going through the various documents that he had been handed in that day, checking them against other information that they were correct, striking out those that weren’t… Then he came to an odd one.
It was about eight pages thick, stapled and covered in minute blue-black ink, a few notes dashed across it in thin, shacky pencil. The most curious detail about it however, was a small note, pinned to the top of the document by a staple on the first page. It was had a large red stamp on it, declaring it redundant, along with a small note written in code that Deraibin didn’t understand. He looked it over, unsure what to do with it when he saw Alek walking nearby and called out to her.
“Miss Aleksandra Constantinova, could I borrow you for a moment?” he asked, trying to sound as pleasant as possible as Alek sopped and turned to him.
“Of course, what can I help you with?” she asked kindly, standing just behind him and leaning over him.
“Well I just found this document but I don’t know the procedure for it,” he began, about to ask what he should do next when she cut him off.
“Oh, those, you just take them to Pavel Ilyich, ah, the Supervisor. We’re not technically cleared to handle them bar from taking them to him or Dǎi,” she explained flippantly, a reassuring smile on her face as she spoke. Deraibin attempted to hide his nervousness.
“Why do they come to us then?” he asked, almost pleadingly.
“Oh they get mixed in sometimes, the logistics of this place is still a bit in flux… same is true for everything here for the moment, but it will be sorted out soon enough,” she explained, sighing slightly. Deraibin nodded, not quite taking in the latter part of her statement, thinking to himself before turning up to her, wanting to ask if she could take the file to Iveshnya in his stead. “In any case, I have to go, see you later!”
“Ah, wa…” he began to call jerking up in his chair, but she carried on and strode out the door, leaving him hovering above his chair until he fell back down into it, alone in the empty office as his coworkers trickled out for lunch, his cigarette going out as he stared at the document laid out on his desk, as if he were staring down a wild animal he was afraid to startle or take his eyes of. He winced to himself as he musted up his courage and grabbed the file, dropped his dead cigarette in his ash tray with the half-dozen other cigarettes and matches it was filled with, then stood up and walked to the door.
Deraibin walked down the white hall that led to Iveshnya’s office, feeling the coarse carpet underfoot as he walked, a chill crept up his spine in the lukewarm corridor as he approached the door, a spasm of nerves the only thing that enabled him to nock on the door.
“It’s unlocked,” the death-tone voice of Iveshnya called, forcing Deraibin to push open the door and step inside, leaving the door open as he did, almost subconsciously setting up an escape route. “Close the door, Deraibin,” he ordered flatly, the hand-set of a phone pressed against the side of his head. He did as he was told.
Deriabin opened his mouth to speak, but Iveshnya put a hand up for him to wait, glancing at him before he turned his attention back to the phone. “Yes… yes, I agree… No… Right,” he replied back into the mouthpiece as he noted something down idle with his right hand, his voice clear and piercing even in brusque responses. The conversation continued for a few minutes longer, Deraibin left standing nervously at attention before Iveshnya’s desk until the latter said goodbye to whomever was on the other side of the phone and rested the hand-set back down onto its cradle to look back up at Deraibin.
“Yes, Mr. Deraibin?” he asked cooly, leaving him to stand as he regarded him with his dead-eyed watch.
“I found this document in my work for the day, I was told that I’m supposed to hand them over to you,” he answered, managing to swallow his cowardice as he handed over the document, Iveshnya already reaching over for it and taking it in his clutch, silently reading the note at its top. Deraibin watched his face for some kind of expression, likely out of some passive curiosity, but saw now shift in his features.
“I see, thank you. If that’s all you are free to go for your lunch, I assume Miss. Slava showed you where it was?” he sated flatly, not looking up at the man as he dismissed him.
“Yes,” he began, what remained of his courage pushing him to continue as he was already in the beast’s den, “but, I also wanted to ask about my commute,” he continued nervously, getting a look from his supervisor in return.
“Well, wanted to ask if I might be permitted to take the train or the bus instead?” he answered slowly, finding it difficult to meet the other man’s unemotive searing eyes.
“No,” Iveshnya answered simply, not waiting to see if the other man made an argument, “I appreciate you may have concerns, but this is the best method, and we shall leave it at that. Dismissed,” he finished with an effortless finality, his voice not shifted at all, yet stopping the other man from speaking up.
“Yes, comrade supervisor,” Deraibin replied sheepishly, turning to open the door before quickly leaving through it, hearing the lock snapping too as he did. He went down to the cafeteria,-his legs unsteady beneath himself as walked. The rest of the day passed normally, smoking nearly the entire remainder of his cigarette pack through it, much to his despair, a hand touching his wallet in mourning. He was just finishing up, and dumping his ashtray into a dustbin close to his desk, when he saw Shigemitsu rise up and begin to make his way out. He scrambled to finish, grabbing the near empty soft-drink bottle he had bought earlier and bringing it with him, downing it as he hurried after the bakeneko, tossing it into a bin as he marched forward. When Deraibin caught up, Shigemitsu was unhappy to see him, but didn’t say anything as Deraibin followed him to his car and got in after him, driving back to their home.
Iveshnya stood in the night, wearing a warm blue trench coat over his suit and a grey karakul[7] on his head, his leather soles crunching on the frosty grass below. He waited till the darkness began to creep close, his cold breath condensing on his beard as he waited. Then, when it reached about half seven, he reached into his jacket and pulled out the document that Deraibin had handed to him, holding it in one hand as he retrieved a match and struck it, holding the budding flame to the corner of the document until it caught, letting the match drop as he led onto the document as it burned, only letting go as the flames lapped at his fingers, his expression blank. He watched the blazing mass of paper, the only light in the black that surrounded him, a passive expression on his face as he reached into his jacket again, this time pulling a small square flask from within it and taking a long drag before pouring the rest onto the fire, the patient flames roaring up in excitement as they destroyed their foundation that much faster. When the flames had finally burnt up all that remained of the paper mess, now leaving only a mess of pure black soot and ash, Iveshnya snuffed the embers with his foot, as if crushing a cigarette butt. He regarded the mess cooly for a moment longer before turning away to make his way back home for the night, his work done.
[1] A term describing various systems of writing often used by assistants, professors or anyone who wants to make quick written notation. The most common western standard is Pitman’s Shorthand, while in the USSR the State Unified Stenography System(Государственная единая система стенографии) was used abbreviated as GESS.
[3] 殭屍. Also known as a ‘hopping vampire’ is a type of reanimated corpse from Chinese legends and folklore. It is typically described as a stiff corpse dressed in the garments of a government official from the Qing period, and moved around by hopping. They were known to hunt down and absorb others to steal their qi. In addition, they could infect others to become a jiāngshī via a jiāngshī virus.
[4] The Leadership of the KGB started with the Chairman of the KGB, the First Deputy Chairman of which there were one-to-two and the Deputy Chairmen of which there were four-to-six.
[5] Общегосударственная автоматизированная система учёта и обработки информации. Known as the ‘All-State Automated System for the Management of the Economy’, or ‘National Automated System for Computation and Information Processing’ it was a Soviet project to create a computer system that connected the entire country in order to replace the onerous bureaucracy of the soviet union, automating areas of Soviet Market planning. In reality, due to opposition from Soviet bureaucracy, the project did not see the necessary funds and the various infrastructure components were not installed. In this book, a somewhat scaled version of the original plans was constructed.
[6] Электроника. A Soviet brand/factory responsible for manufacturing, among other electronic devices, digital watches. It was a subsidiary of Integral (Интеграл), located in Minsk, Belarus.
[7] Sometimes spelt ‘Qaraqul’ and also called and Uzbek or Jinnah hat. It is hat made from the fur of the Karakul/Qaraqul breed of sheep. The type of fur is commonly referred to as Astrakhan. It is peaked and folds flat when not worn on the head.
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