The train ride back to Helsinki had been a nightmare of anxiety. At the Kuopio train station, they were greeted by headlines in Savon Sanomat saying, SOVIET SKIER FEARED DEAD. The story talked about Arnie’s statement that Mikhail had come back to save him and would have won the race.
Natalya and the children weren’t on the train. Arnie and Louise assumed she’d gone by car, most likely driven by one of the MGB watchers.
All Louise could do was express her anxiety to Arnie, who listened stoically, only once pointing out that nothing could be done until they got to Helsinki.
They got there just after dark. Arnie and Louise took a taxi to the apartment. After leaving their bags, Arnie immediately went to the legation to see if there was any information on Mikhail, and Louise went to see if Natalya had gotten safely to the orphanage.
When Arnie got to the legation, most of the staff had gone home for the evening, but Hamilton’s secretary, Helmi, was still there, along with Pulkkinen. He was reading a newspaper, probably waiting to take Hamilton home. When Arnie came in the office door, Helmi walked over to him, and gestured with her eyes toward Hamilton’s inner office. “He’s not happy,” she whispered. Arnie gave her a puzzled look. She merely nodded toward Hamilton’s door.
The door was open, as it usually was. He entered, aware that Pulkkinen had followed him as far as the door and sat himself down next to it. Hamilton nodded toward a chair. Arnie, instead, kept on his feet.
“Colonel Koski,” Hamilton said softly. “I’m afraid we have a problem.” He pushed a copy of Demokraatti, the daily newspaper of the Suomen Kommunistinen Puolue, the Communist Party of Finland, across the desk.
Arnie quickly translated. The headline was shocking enough. HERO OF THE SOVIET UNION GIVES LIFE TO SAVE AMERICAN. The lead paragraph, however, made Arnie’s stomach sink.
In a closely guarded ski race between Hero of the Soviet Union, Colonel Mikhail Bobrov, and the US military attaché at the American legation, Lieutenant Colonel Arnie Koski, Colonel Bobrov is believed to have lost his life after being abandoned by the American skier. Bobrov and Koski had met in Austria in the final days of Russia’s Great Patriotic War against Fascism. The race from Rovaniemi to Kuopio was to be private, between the two military men. The government of the Soviet Union now believes this was a ruse to create a publicity stunt showing the defeat of a Soviet military hero at the hands of an American capitalist. Mrs. Louise Koski, now suspected to be an American agent masquerading as Koski’s wife, shamelessly exploited Finnish orphans by using a common American system of gambling called a raffle to advertise the race.
Koski had won national ski competitions before the United States belatedly entered the war. The Americans assumed Bobrov would easily be defeated. They underestimated Soviet manhood. According to eyewitnesses at the finish in Kuopio, Koski himself stated that Colonel Bobrov was well ahead of him but had turned back because he suspected that the American had gotten into some sort of danger. Koski went on to say that Bobrov pulled him from where he’d broken through ice and revived him, saving his life. Koski further stated that after he’d been revived, he had conceded the race to Colonel Bobrov. Then he alleges that the two decided to race the short distance from the accident scene into Kuopio. Here the American’s story falls apart. Searches by local skiers and even special teams of Russian parachuting ski troops, found no sign of Colonel Bobrov. Snowfall has covered any tracks that could provide a clue about Colonel Bobrov’s fate or the activities of the perfidious American.
The head of Soviet security forces for the Soviet legation, Colonel Oleg Sokolov, told this newspaper that he suspects foul play. “We helped our American allies during the war. We continue to help all our allies. Here is sound evidence of our goodwill and good intentions. The Americans talk about ‘deteriorating relations,’ when they alone are responsible for this. We urge the American legation to investigate this incident and punish whoever is responsible. We also want to make clear that the Soviet Union does not appreciate the West in general interfering in the affairs of Finland and other Eastern European countries who have already or would like to voluntarily ally themselves with the Soviet Union.”
The general secretary of the Communist Party of Finland, Ville Pessi, vowed that every effort will be made to bring the perpetrators of this crime to justice.
Arnie quit reading. The magnitude of the lie overwhelmed him, as did its plausibility to a credulous public. He stood there, stunned, the paper in his hand. “It’s all lies.”
“That’s irrelevant.” Hamilton pointed at the newspaper. “This is all that’s relevant: bad publicity. Denying lies put forward by newspapers only increases the negative publicity.”
“She meant no harm,” Arnie said.
“I am well aware of her motives, Colonel. What concerns me are the outcomes.”
Arnie took that in, silent for a moment. Then he said, “I think the MGB killed Colonel Bobrov. They were afraid he’d lose the race.”
Hamilton said, firmly, “Sit down, Colonel.”
Arnie sat.
“Now. Your wife explained her part in this mess a couple of days ago. I want to hear yours.”
Arnie started with the legation party, ending with the unsuccessful search for Mikhail.
Hamilton quietly pushed several newspaper clippings across the desk toward Arnie. “You even made the New York Times,” he said. “Most Americans tend to think everything is a game.”
Arnie said nothing.
“Do you think everything is a game?”
Arnie hung his head. “No, sir.”
“Do you even think?”
Arnie knew he was being chewed out, so he kept silent. It was a long silence.
Hamilton broke it with a sigh. “Bobrov was someone we could have worked with. Well. Pfftt. You screwed that up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hamilton watched him for a moment. Arnie was looking at the edge of his desk. “Next time you get a diplomatic assignment, leave your military culture at the O club.” He paused. “If you ever get another diplomatic assignment.”
Arnie visibly winced.
“OK, Colonel,” Hamilton said briskly. “Let’s get to work. What makes you suspect that Bobrov has been murdered?”
“On Saturday I glimpsed what I thought was a commercial DC-3, somewhat off course. Didn’t think anything of it at the time.” He paused. “When Colonel Bobrov didn’t show on Monday, I began to suspect it was a Lisunov Li-2. Many were modified to drop airborne troops during the war. The MGB has special operations teams, all jump qualified. There’s no other reason a Lisunov would be out north of Kuopio. Demokraatti even mentioned ski troops.”
Hamilton nodded very slightly, taking it in. “He’s a Hero of the Soviet Union,” he finally said. “They wouldn’t want to see him lose.”
“No, sir. And he’s too good a skier not to have been within an hour of me, behind or ahead. And he’s very savvy about operating in winter. Unlikely that he’d get himself into trouble.” Arnie paused. “More savvy than me. He saved my life.”
“So, at least that part of the story is true.”
Hamilton listened as Arnie told him about Mikhail rescuing him.
“We need to try to find him,” Arnie said. “Maybe I’m wrong and there’s a chance that he’s out there somewhere alive.”
Hamilton looked at Arnie solemnly. “Unlikely. Comrade Beria has killed people who looked at him the wrong way. Same with Stalin. No, sadly, I think they killed him.”
“To avoid embarrassment,” Arnie spat out.
“To avoid tarnishing the Soviet system. To avoid losing Finland to the West. To make an example of Bobrov to send a message to the GRU about who’s really in charge and what happens if you cross them.”
“For politics,” Arnie said bitterly.
Hamilton looked at him for a long time. “Yes, for politics.” He lifted one of the news clippings and looked at it, but he was thinking, not reading. “Arnie, your dirty word, ‘politics,’ was invented to settle differences without violence. The Soviets want to control Europe without going to war. We want to stop them without going to war. The Finnish Communists want to control Finland without a civil war. The Finns who see things our way want to do the same. Republicans and Democrats want to run the USA but don’t want to go to war to do so. Politics allows this to happen.” A bit exasperated he sighed. “You, above all, should know that no matter how dirty politics gets, it’s never as dirty as war.”
“We agree on that, sir. I’m just sorry for the whole mess.”
Hamilton sighed. He picked up a clipping from L’Humanité. “Of course, the pro-Communist press will be encouraging the conspiracy theory that he was abandoned after some tragic accident or, even more juicy, that he was murdered.” He paused. “By you.”
Arnie leaned forward. “That’s why we need to find Mikhail’s body and prove what really happened. I know it was the MGB.”
Hamilton opened his palms upward. “And what then? Send Wyatt Earp to bring ’em in dead or alive?”
“But he’s a friend! I can’t just leave him out there. And what about justice? Doesn’t that count?”
“Arnie,” Hamilton said softly. “The days of stalwart military men, comrades in arms, gentlemen all, toasting downed enemy pilots at the officers’ mess …” Hamilton looked sadly at Arnie. “Those days are dead. The Russians never trusted us, even when we were allies, but ever since we dropped the bomb, they’ve feared us. Make no mistake, we are now enemies. Given acts like what we think just happened, they should be our enemy. For the good of the world.”
“I don’t think of Mikhail Bobrov as my enemy.”
“I’m sure you both felt that way, but it’s irrelevant. If your masters get into a cockfight, it won’t be them in the cockpit. It’ll be men like you and Bobrov, with bloody spurs on your feet instead of skis.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, sir,” Arnie said.
“Indeed. Hope is what we still have.” Then, almost to himself he said, “Sometimes I think it is our worst enemy.”
Arnie asked, “What about Bobrov’s wife and children?”
“She’ll be under surveillance, for sure,” Hamilton answered. “She most likely knows too much and they’ll want to get her out of the country. Or worse.”
That hung in the air.
“Sir,” Arnie said. “I think Bobrov’s wife is going to try to get her children to the orphanage.”
“How do you know that?”
“She left a coded note for Louise. We both think it’s what she intends.”
“Not much chance she’ll even get out of her apartment building. If she does, Russians have informants everywhere. A single woman with two small children on the streets by herself in the middle of the night? She won’t get far.”
“I can’t just do nothing. I’m going to the Russian legation to see if there’s any news on Bobrov and to confront them with this story. We can’t just let lies go unanswered, that’s a sure way that they’ll become facts.”
Anger flickered briefly across Hamilton’s face. “You can go to the Russians to inquire about Bobrov, but you will not confront them with this story. We will let any number of lies go unanswered if it means keeping out of a war with the Soviet Union. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Arnie said. “Very clear.”
Hamilton softened. “I’m afraid you’ll get nothing from them, but OK. Go. I’ll take care of the newspapers.” Hamilton stood, clearly dismissing Arnie.
Pulkkinen was just outside the door. He stepped aside, nodding briefly, as Arnie rushed past him.