An Easter Carol - Part II

Russkiy Mir Edition - Easter 2023

Part II - Ghost of Easter Past

Vladimir Vladimirovich sat in his chair for a long time. Had Boris Nikolayevich, or his ghost to be precise, visited him or had he dreamt it all. Or had he been poisoned and he was hallucinating? Everything seemed normal, and he felt good, so no poison. He thought about calling the guards, but they might think he was crazy asking about Boris Nikolayevich, and then the word would spread, ‘the boss has lost it’. If he really had been visited by a ghost, it would mean that ghosts exist, and he knew they did not. Or, did they?

The fire slowly died and he noticed that the room had become cold. He got up, said “Humbug” to no one in particular, and went to bed. 

He could not have slept for long, since it was still dark when someone shouted, “Wake up, no time to waste,” and kicked his bed so hard that it shook. He woke up instantly and saw a dark figure peering over him. “Get up. We have to go.”

“What the hell is this, in the middle of the night?” Vladimir Vladimirovich thought as he sat up on the bed, “Who dares disturb me at this hour? Where are the guards?” 

Then a horrible thought hit him, “A coup! It’s a coup.” His mind started racing, “This is it.” “Are they going to finish me off here and now?” “Take me to Ljubyanka?” “Or a trial?” “How did they get in?” “Who betrayed me?”

“Davai davai davai, ” the dark figure gestured for him to get up.

“Definitely a coup. Who the hell is this?” He turned on the lamp by the bed, looked at the figure, and froze. He could not believe his eyes. First of all, in the light he could see that the figure was transparent, like Boris Nikolayevich, a Ghost. But what really surprised him was that he recognised who this was. No mistaking, those piercing eyes and that moustache, “Joseph Vissarionovich?”

“Well, who did you expect? And by the way, if this was a coup, you would be drinking with Boris Nikolayevich by now. Didn’t that drunk tell you I was coming?” 

“So, it had really happened, I have really been visited by a ghost, and here was another one. And how did he know I thought this was a coup,” he thought, and then replied timidly to the Ghost, “He only mentioned Spirits, three Spirits.”

“Well, here I am, the first Spirit,” the Ghost leaned closer and said in a low menacing whisper, “the Ghost of Easter Past,” and added, “Your past.” 

Somehow hearing that filled Vladimir Vladimirovich with dread. “What happens now?” 

“We are going on a trip,” the Ghost said cheerfully. “Get up, davai davai davai.” 

Vladimir Vladimirovich reluctantly stood up, and the room around him started to disappear, first the walls, then the furniture, and then the floor; in the end he was standing in total darkness. Then he saw lights approaching in the distance, and soon he entered a city. He was moving through the streets with unnatural speed, though he felt no wind or other normal effects of speed. 

The buildings lining the streets were mostly joyless grey, from what seemed to be decades of soot, grime and dirt, and the few streetlights only managed to light small blotches here and there. The whole city gave the impression of an old black and white photograph, with a few bits of colour added afterwards. 

He came to a large square and passed a statue of some historical figure, with the ruins of some old building behind it. Then he crossed a river, and entered a residential street on the other side. There were a few people walking on the streets, and there were lights in the windows. He was moving slower now, turned a corner, and came to a halt in front of a drab grey house. “I know this place,” he exclaimed, surprised. 

“Your old office.” The Ghost had materialised next to him from somewhere. “Let's look inside.”

They approached a window and looked inside. 

Vladimir Vladimirovich could not believe his eyes; he saw himself at a desk, although a much younger version of himself. He looked so young. In front of the desk there was a man slouched on a chair, and two uniformed guards were standing by the door. The man was holding his head in his hands, and was muttering something incomprehensible. 

The younger Vladimir Vladimirovich signed some papers, put them in a folder and said to the guards, “we are done here.” 

“What now, the Germans?” One of the guards asked. 

“Yes, tell them to pick him up, let them deal with this. Take him away.”

The guards grabbed the man by the arms and lifted him up from the chair. The man looked like he could barely stand, and he dragged his feet, as the guards walked him out of the office. 

“And another good day’s work done, for a loyal servant of the Party and the Motherland,” the Ghost said, with just a hint of sarcasm. 

His younger self stood up and put the folder into a filing cabinet. He locked it, put the key in his pocket, took his coat and hat, switched out the lights and left the office. 

“Your last, happy Easter in Dresden,” the Ghost whispered in his ear, emphasising the word ‘happy’. 

After a while, they saw his younger self exit the house. He walked down the road a bit and reached a parked car. He stopped and started scanning the surroundings, as if to check if he was followed. He checked the other side of the street, and then turned to look straight at them. They both immediately ducked down behind a wall. “Did he see us,” Vladimir Vladimirovich asked nervously. 

“Of course not, we are spirits. Can’t see us,” the Ghost replied, “it’s instinctive, you know, this hiding. Hard to get used to being invisible. And I have been doing this for 70 years.” 

By now, his younger self had got into the car and drove off. 

“Maybe you are on one of your secret surveillance operations,” the Ghost said. “Let's see where you are going.” 

They followed the car from a discrete distance around the city, along a seemingly random route. After driving for about half an hour, his younger self turned into a side street, and parked the car in a dark spot between two streetlights. 

His younger self came out of the car, looked around, and started walking back towards them. They quickly entered a dark corridor, and hid in the back against the wall. As his younger self was passing, he suddenly stopped and looked suspiciously into the dark. He was looking straight at Vladimir Vladimirovich, who did not even dare to breathe. 

The seconds passed as they were looking at each other. Then a huge black cat appeared from the back of the corridor. It walked past the younger man, paying absolutely no attention to him and then vanished somewhere into the dark street. 

“Now that was exciting,” the Ghost whispered, as the younger man continued on his way, “looks like you sensed your presence. It happens sometimes, when you meet yourself. And did you see the size of that cat?” 

As his younger self turned around the corner, they came out of the doorway and hurried after him. He walked for a few blocks further, turned another corner, crossed the street and then entered an old building.

By now Vladimir Vladimirovich knew exactly where they were, and what his younger self was doing here. “Why did you bring me here?” 

“Me? I did not bring us here. We followed You, remember,” the Ghost said feigning innocence. “Your private secret safehouse, for your important, discreet and totally secret operations.” He looked up at the windows on the second floor, “shall we?” 

They were looking into the living room of an apartment, nothing fancy, but comfortable, one you could live in. Then they saw the young Vladimir Vladimirovich enter the room, “Victoria,” he called, and a young beautiful woman came from another room and ran to his arms. “Nikolai, I missed you.”

“Nikolai? Did not tell your real name to her then,” the Ghost said, “always by the book. Except, of course, her,” he said looking at the young woman, “Victoria, the lovely Victoria. How old was she, eighteen?” 

“Nineteen, but you knew that already,” was the dry reply. 

“That’s right, nineteen. And you gave her a birthday present.” 

Just then his younger self gave a small package to the woman. “This is for you.” 

“For me,” she said, acting surprised. 

“It has your name on the box.” 

She untied the red ribbon and unwrapped the package. “Oh it does, wonder what kind of secrets there are in it?” She opened the box. “But Nikolai,” she lifted a piece of red lacey lingerie from the box, “beautiful, oh, this is So Beautiful. Must have cost a fortune, how did you get it?” 

“I have connections,” his younger self said smiling.

She hugged and kissed him again. “I want to try this on. You open the champagne, while I change.” And she ran into the other room. 

“You did not get that from Dresden, did you,” the Ghost said, “smuggled from the West by one of your contacts, I guess.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich did not reply. His younger self went to another room, apparently the kitchen, and came back with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He opened the bottle with a pop, and filled the two glasses. “How are you doing in there? Hope it is the right size?” “Oh, it is beautiful,” came the reply, “just wait till you see me.” 

“So, this is how you develop an intelligence asset,” the Ghost wondered. 

“She was an active member of the Freie Deutsche Jugend,” Vladimir Vladimirovich countered a bit annoyed. 

“I’m sure, that was not her only asset,” the Ghost said. And before Vladimir Vladimirovich could say anything else, she appeared in the doorway wearing the lingerie, and nothing but. 

“How do I look?” She asked with a smile, as she leaned against the doorframe. 

“Definitely, not her only asset,” the Ghost declared. “That is what I call a true comrade, totally dedicated to the cause.” 

His younger self stood up, took both champagne glasses from the table and walked over to her. “You look perfect.” He gave her a glass. “Happy Birthday.” 

She sipped some champagne and put her arms around him, still holding the glass, “I love you, Nikolai Alexandrovich.” Then she kissed him and pulled him to the other room. 

They were left staring at the empty room. 

“Then, The Wall came down, and she dumped you,” the Ghost said unceremoniously. 

“Left a note on that very table, ‘Dear Nikolai, It was fun while it lasted, but now it is over. Anyway, Victoria belongs to the victorious side. Send me a postcard from Leningrad. XXX.”

*****

The room disappeared, and suddenly they were standing beside a big statue of a woman in a carriage, drawn by four horses. It was a sunny day, and Vladimir Vladimirovich realised they were on top of a monument, and there was a huge joyous crowd of people below them.

“Where was I,” the Ghost said looking at the statue, “oh, Victoria, in her lacey red lingerie, ever wondered who else she wore it for?” Vladimir Vladimirovich did not reply. “Married a lawyer, a human rights lawyer,” the Ghost said, emphasising the last three words. “Human rights, can you believe that? Human rights? What a wishy-washy, bleeding-heart, weakling idea,” the Ghost said with contempt, and added, ”what rights?”

There was The Wall on one side of the monument, and crowds of people on both sides. They were climbing on top of The Wall, some were drinking champagne, and a few were even hammering pieces off the wall, and no one did anything to stop them. 

“Remember when the crowd stormed the Stasi headquarters in Dresden,” the Ghost asked, “and then they tried to storm yours. You called the Red Army for protection. Remember what they said? We cannot do anything without orders from Moscow,” he added mockingly. 

“And Moscow is silent." Vladimir Vladimirovich said silently.

“And Moscow is silent,” the Ghost repeated, “nobody lifted a finger, they did absolutely nothing, and because of that, they lost everything.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich did not say anything, there was nothing to say. He just watched the crowd below as they celebrated their newfound freedom, and the end of his world. 

“I built the Empire, and they just gave it away,” the Ghost said, “first half of Europe, then the Baltics, Belarus, Ukraine, and then the Caucasus, even the Stans. And what were they left with? An Empire hacked to pieces. For what?” Pointing to the crowd below, he added incredulously, “and for Them?” 

They were silent for a while, both lost in their thoughts, then the Ghost added, “we all cried, not a dry eye in the house. Even Yezhov and Beria. Can you believe that, Beria, crying. You should have seen that.”

“I have seen enough,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said.