999_ Twenty-Nine Original Tales of Horror and Suspense - Al Sarrantonio [14]
Engineers were packing charges around the foyer. Entering the Spa through the kitchens, they had avoided the Amerikan-infested steps. It appeared a second queue was forming, stretching off in a different direction, still leading to the front doors. The officer in command, a fat man with a facial birthmark that made him look like a spaniel, introduced himself as Major Andrei Kobylinksi. He strode about, inspecting the work, expressing pride in his unit’s ability to demolish a building with the minimum of explosive matter. As he surveyed, Kobylinksi noted points at which surplus charges should be placed. To Chirkov’s unschooled eye, the Major appeared to contradict himself: his men were plastering the walls with semtex. Kozintsev and Captain Zharov were absorbed in a reading of a twelve-page document which authorized the demolition of the Spa. Dr. Dudnikov protested that the First Secretary himself had, within the last minute, commended the Spa and that important work to do with the Amerikan invasion was being carried out in the Pool, but Kobylinksi was far more interested in which pillars should be knocked out to bring down the decadent painted roof. As they worked, the engineers whistled “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”
Satisfied that the charges were laid correctly, Major Kobylinksi could not resist the temptation to lecture the assembled company on the progress and achievements of his campaign. A three-yard-square map of Moscow was unfolded on the floor. It was marked with patches of red as if it were a chessboard pulled out of shape. The red areas signified buildings and constructions Kobylinksi had blown up. Chirkov understood the Major would not be happy until the entire map was shaded in red; then, Kobylinski believed the crisis would be at an end. He declaimed that this should have been done immediately when the crisis began and that the Amerikans were to be thanked for prompting such a visionary enterprise. As the Major lectured, Chirkov noticed Toulbeyev at the main desk with Lyubashevski, apparently trying to find a pen that worked. They sorted through a pot of pencils and chalks and markers, drawing streaks on a piece of blotting paper. Under the desk were packages wired to detonators. Kobylinksi checked his watch and mused that he was ahead of his schedule; the demolition would take place in one half hour. Lyubashevski raised a hand and ventured the opinion that the explosives placed under the main staircase were insufficient to the task of bringing down such a solidly constructed structure. Barking disagreement, Kobylinksi strutted over and examined the charges in question, finally agreeing that safe was better than sorry and ordering the application of more explosives.
While Kobylinksi was distracted, Toulbeyev crept to the map and knelt over Red Square, scribbling furiously with a precious red felt-tip. He blotched over the Spa, extending an area of devastation to cover half the Square. When Kobylinksi revisited his map, Toulbeyev was unsuspiciously on the other side of the room. One of the engineers, a new set of headphones slung around his neck, piped up with an observation of a cartographical anomaly. Kobylinksi applied his concentration to the map and gurgled to himself. According to this chart, the Spa had already been dealt with by his unit: it was not a building but a raked-over patch of rubble. Another engineer, a baseball cap in his back pocket, volunteered a convincing memory of the destruction, three days before, of the Spa. Kobylinksi looked again at the map, getting down on his hands and knees and crawling along the most famous thoroughfares of the city. He scratched his head and blinked in his birthmark. Director Kozintsev, arms folded and head high, said that so far as he was concerned the matter was at an end; he requested the engineers