We Are The Dead - Death of A Colonel

May 16th 1963 - Lubyanka Building, Moscow

Looking down at the man bound tightly to the stretcher Mortuary Technician Veniamin Gushchin thought Poor bastard, no matter what he did no man deserves a death like this. He was however very careful not to let any emotion show on his face. The men who had ordered that GRU Colonel Oleg Penkovsky be cremated alive were, he felt, quite capable of ordering his own death. So he was careful to show no dissent or hindrance as he adjusted the controls of the incinerator. He had been instructed to set it to it's coolest setting, so as to prolong Penkovsky's suffering. They were even filming it. Evil Swine! Gushchin thought.

The execution was to be witnessed by several KGB men, senior amongst them was Alexander Zagvozdin, who had questioned Penkovsky hundreds of times about his spying activities. Amongst other things, Colonel Penkovsky had supplied the Americans with information of such sensitivity that revealed Soviet weaknesses, that JF Kennedy had been able to negotiate a diplomatic solution to the Cuban missile crisis.

Gushchin deferentially informed Zagvozdin that the incinerator was ready. An instruction was given and the door to the furnace was opened. The stretcher began to move along the rollers towards the door. Oleg struggled and strained futilely against his bonds.

The rollers stopped. Oleg looked around wide eyed and terrified. A woman's face moved into his field of vision. He did not recognise her, nor could he understand how she could be there. He thought that perhaps he was dying and his mind was creating some internal fantasy to spare him the horror of being cremated alive and conscious.

The woman spoke to him in perfect and accent less Russian, as she removed the gag from his mouth.

“Colonel Penkovsky. We are here to offer you an alternative to this death. We do not have enough time to explain in detail the how or why, but we do need you to agree that you prefer to live.”

He stared at her for a moment.

“Yes. I wish to live.” he replied. He did not at this point much care what the alternative was, but he knew he did not want to burn.

“Very good.” said the woman. She looked across to someone and nodded. Oleg felt the straps that held him being loosened and then removed. Two men were quickly and efficiently freeing him. One of them helped him to his feet.

“Pleased to meet you Colonel. Please excuse us, we need to replace you.”

Oleg stood, he was struggling to comprehend the impossible turn of events. He watched as the two men lifted the body of a man onto the stretcher and strapped him to it. Looking around he saw that Zagvozdin and the others were motionless.

He turned to the woman, who smiled and handed him a watch.

“Put that on please Colonel. We will explain all in due course, but right now we need to get out of now.”

It struck Oleg, as he pulled the watch over his wrist, as strange that she did not say 'get out of here.'

The woman spoke to the two men, who looked to have completed their task.

“All done?” she enquired.

They replied that they were. The woman took Oleg's wrist, and suddenly and with no translation, they were somewhere else.

Oleg looked around. He did not recognise the room that they were now in. Clearly it was not the crematorium.

The woman let his wrist go and held out a hand.

“I'm Lesley Palmira Colonel. This is Nikola Tesla and Arthur Rimbaud." she paused, seemingly for dramatic effect for then she announced, "We Are The Dead.”

Colonel Penkovsky shook her hand. He was still very confused. A moment ago he had been about to suffer an unimaginably gruesome death. Now it appeared he had been spared. He asked the thing that was uppermost in his mind.

“Who... Who was it that you put on the stretcher?”

“His name was Henry James Smith. To history he is better known as Jack The Ripper. And don't worry, he was quite dead. When we left, his cadaver slid into the furnace in your place. History is a little unclear as to how you died, but as far as Zagvozdin and friends are concerned, they have seen you die.”

“How did he really die?” Oleg was not sure who Jack the Ripper was, and he asked the question without thinking.

“You shot him.” Lesley Palmira looked at him and smiled.

"We Are The Dead An Introduction of Sorts"