Part 4 — They Declared Me a Thief at Work, but Three Women Entered the Courtroom — the Director Suddenly Stopped Smiling

Granovsky did not answer the call.

The phone lit up again.

Then once more.

“Turn it off!” he shouted at Olga.

“I am not calling you,” Olga said calmly.

On the third call, the judge signaled to the police. Two officers stood beside Granovsky. For the first time I saw that his expensive watch had lost track of time; the second hand was turning pointlessly.

“This is a mistake,” he said. “I am only the victim.”

“A victim does not threaten a witness like that,” Marina replied.

At that very moment the door opened again in the courtroom. A middle-aged man entered, with tiredness and fear written on his face. It turned out to be Levan, Granovsky’s personal driver and assistant.

In his hand was a small plastic bag.

“I can no longer remain silent,” he said.

Granovsky ran toward him, but an officer blocked his way.

“Levan, think about what you are doing!”

“All my life I carried out your orders. But yesterday at the hospital I realized that the woman you hid because of us might die.”

A commotion broke out in the courtroom.

“Which woman?” the judge asked.

Levan took a phone out of the plastic bag.

“The company accountant. She knew about all the transfers. Granovsky ordered her abduction when he learned that she was going to go to the police.”

Katia’s face hardened.

“Where is she?”

“In the old warehouse, by the river. She is still alive.”

Marina immediately took her phone and quietly said a few words to her colleagues. In a few minutes the police received the warehouse address.

Granovsky waved his hands.

“This is madness! I have not kidnapped anyone!”

Olga played his voice recording on the computer.

“If the old man does not break, we will move on to his daughters.”

Granovsky’s own voice sounded through the courtroom.

He froze.

His lawyer slowly closed the bag.

“Viktor, from this moment I can no longer defend you. You are creating evidence against yourself.”

“You are abandoning me too?”

“I was defending your lie. I cannot defend a crime.”

That was the first moment when Granovsky heard his own words through someone else’s mouth. He sat down in the chair and covered his face with both hands.

The judge ordered my detention canceled and signed an order for Granovsky’s immediate arrest. Journalists were waiting outside, but I did not want to speak with them.

Katia hugged me on the courthouse steps.

“Forgive me, Father.”

“For what?”

“For thinking that you were strong and did not need help.”

I ran my hand over her hair.

“A strong person also accepts help.”

That evening I entered my apartment free for the first time, but the rooms seemed strangely empty. Beside the bed still stood the old wooden chair on which the girls had sat in turns when I combed their hair in childhood. One of their three photographs had fallen from the wall. The glass was broken, but all three were laughing in the photograph.

The smell of chlorine still stood in the kitchen. In the pocket of my jacket I found the old metal keychain in which the small camera had been hidden. I turned the item around in my hand for a long time.

For years I had thought that I helped everyone and that no one could take care of me.

I was wrong.

Three weeks later Granovsky was left in pretrial detention. The accountant was found, and with her testimony the abduction case was also opened. The company returned the illegally re-registered lands. The police officer who had not answered my calls lost his position and appeared before the investigation.

And I went on vacation for the first time in thirty years.

Katia stayed with me for several days. Marina called me every morning. Olga replaced the windows of my apartment because wind was coming through the old frames.

One morning Katia’s little son, Nika, put a drawing on the table.

“Grandpa, this is our new house,” he told me.

In the drawing four people stood in front of a small yellow house. Me, the three women, and Nika himself. A red sun was drawn on the roof of the house.

“Where are you here?” I asked.

“In the middle. Because you protect everyone.”

I smiled.

“Now you will protect me.”

“Always,” he said.

Two months later I rented a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. In the mornings I cleaned the floors of a neighboring school, but now only part-time. In the evenings I watered tomatoes in the garden, and on Sundays I had lunch together with the girls.

When the first snow came, Katia told stories from childhood. Marina cooked soup, while Olga was still arguing that there was too much salt.

I listened to all three of them and thought that twenty-eight years ago I had brought three children out of the fire, but in reality they had also saved me that night.

In December Granovsky sent me a letter.

“You can change your testimony. I will compensate you for everything. I only want one meeting.”

I put the letter on top of the sink. Several hours later I picked it up again and tore it.

I did not write a reply.

It was not necessary.

In my new home I put a small shelf by the window. On it I placed the girls’ old photograph, Nika’s drawing, and the metal keychain. Earlier this item had meant only a hidden camera. Now it reminded me of the day when the truth heard the voice of the quietest person.

Outside, snow was slowly falling.

I touched the keychain with my finger and closed the window.

For the first time, silence no longer frightened me.

The house was full.