Interrogation
Jun. 9th, 2008 01:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
taras_oleksei"I don't get it," Taras said.
He was frowning as they walked, using the time to think. He actually lagged behind Isaev a little.
Ilarion never hurried anywhere, though today he strode down the hall, bootheels ringing with a clarity of purpose. Only Taras wasn't clear.
They passed a window. Outside, it was still foggy, a thick white mist that enclosed the MVD building like mountains of snow, insulating and isolating, as if they were in some remote place up north, not in civilized Leningrad. Taras didn't like not being able to see across the street.
He looked away, turning back to Isaev.
"This guy is under suspicion of..."
A secretary approached, clutching a stack of files to her chest. She stepped aside to let them pass, squeezing so close to the wall it seemed like she was afraid they would knock her aside. She murmured something as they walked by.
Taras glanced behind them, to make sure she was out of earshot, though he wasn't sure why.
"...muzhelostvo. And some other political shit."
Their destination loomed. The doors to the interrogation rooms were simple, marked with numbers, but nothing else. Almost benign.
Taras stopped at the first door, then imposed himself physically between it and Ilarion, putting his hand on the frame to block Isaev's entry. Ilarion looked at him as if he had finally noticed Taras was there. His eyes were narrow, slivers of ice. Taras stared back.
"This isn't a violent crime, Isaev. So what gives?"
He was frowning as they walked, using the time to think. He actually lagged behind Isaev a little.
Ilarion never hurried anywhere, though today he strode down the hall, bootheels ringing with a clarity of purpose. Only Taras wasn't clear.
They passed a window. Outside, it was still foggy, a thick white mist that enclosed the MVD building like mountains of snow, insulating and isolating, as if they were in some remote place up north, not in civilized Leningrad. Taras didn't like not being able to see across the street.
He looked away, turning back to Isaev.
"This guy is under suspicion of..."
A secretary approached, clutching a stack of files to her chest. She stepped aside to let them pass, squeezing so close to the wall it seemed like she was afraid they would knock her aside. She murmured something as they walked by.
Taras glanced behind them, to make sure she was out of earshot, though he wasn't sure why.
"...muzhelostvo. And some other political shit."
Their destination loomed. The doors to the interrogation rooms were simple, marked with numbers, but nothing else. Almost benign.
Taras stopped at the first door, then imposed himself physically between it and Ilarion, putting his hand on the frame to block Isaev's entry. Ilarion looked at him as if he had finally noticed Taras was there. His eyes were narrow, slivers of ice. Taras stared back.
"This isn't a violent crime, Isaev. So what gives?"
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Date: 2008-06-14 10:56 pm (UTC)He did not move for long moments, staring down at Barshov.
Limp, pliant Barshov who'd put up no resistance, even though he hadn't been tied. Who hadn't protested, and had even invited Taras to do it.
Taras' eyes went to the dancer's legs, which were slightly parted, as if now, the dancer was offering him something else.
Only this wasn't the Zone.
And he had no idea how long Ilarion was going to take.
"He told me to," Taras muttered.
He let out a long breath.
Taras couldn't tell if he dancer had heard him. The statement in itself was not particularly damning. There could be a lot of reasons for that order.
He shifted, and pushed his leg against the side of Barshov's calf experimentally. Just to check how lucid the dancer was.
"So...you're saying he's your comrade?"