'Odessa, the mother of crime - an appropriate destination,' sneered the station master. 'You can only be among your own kind and come to harm there!

'Then let him stay with us, Piotr. I will take care of him, I Will ...

I 'No, never. I would rather pay the bastard!

'But how can he hope to get past the authorities?' the woman pleaded.

'I will have to issue him a working pass for Odessa.' He turned his head towards Wladek. 'Once you are on that train, boy, if I see or hear of you again in Moscow, I will have you arrested on sight and thrown into the nearest jail. You will then be back in that prison camp as fast as the train can get you there if they don't shoot you first.'

He stared at the clock on the kitchen mantlepiece: five after eleven. He turned to his wife. 'There is a train that leaves for Odessa at midnight.

I will take him to the station myself. I want to be sure he leaves Moscow. Have you any baggage,boy?'

Wladek was about to say no, when the woman said, Tes, I will go and fetch it.'

Wladek and the station master stood, staring at each other with mutual contempt. The woman was away for a long time. The grandfather clock struck once in her absence. Still neither spoke, and the station master's eyes never left Wladek. When his wife returned, she was carrying a large brown paper parcel wrapped up with string. Wladek stared at it and began to protest, but as their eyes met, he saw such fear in bers that he only just got out the words, 'Thank you: 'Eat this,' she said, thrusting her bowl of cold soup towards him.

He obeyed, although his shrunken stomach was now overfull, gulping down the soup as quickly as possible, not wanting her to be in any more trouble.

'Animal,' the man said.

Wladek looked at him, hatred in his eyes. He felt pity for the woman, bound to such a man for life.

'Come, boy, it's time to leave,' the station master said. 'We don't want you to miss your train, do we?'

Wladek followed the man out of the kitchen. He hesitated as he passed the woman and touched her hand, feeling the response. Nothing was said; no words would have been adequate. The station master and the refugee crept through the streets of Moscow, hiding in the shadows, until they reached the station. The station master obtained a one - way ticket to Odessa and gave the little red slip of paper to Wladek.

'My pass?' said Wladek defiantly.

From his inside pocket the man drew out an official looking form, signed it hurriedly, and handed it over furtively to Wladek. The station master's eyes kept looking all around him for any possible danger. Wladek had seen those eyes so many times during the past four years : the eyes of a coward.

'Never let me see or hear of you again,' he said, the voice of a bully.

Wladek had also heard that voice many times before in the last four years.

He looked up, wanting to say something, but the station master had already retreated into the shadows of the night where he belonged. He looked at the eyes of the people who hurried past him. The same eyes, the same fear; was anyone in the world free? Wladek gathered the brown paper parcel under his arm, checked his hat, and walked towards the barrier. This time he felt more confident, showing his pass to the guard; he was ushered through without comment. He climbed on board the train. It had been a short visit to Moscow, and he would never see the city again in his life, though he would always remember the kindness of the woman, the station master's wife, Comrade ... He didn't even know her name.

Wladek stayed in the general class standing carriages for his journey.

Odessa looked less distant from Moscow than Irkutsk, about a thumb's length on the doctor's sketch, eight hundred and fifty miles in reality. While Wladek was studying his rudimentary map, he became distracted by another game of pitch - and - toss which was taking place in the carriage. He folded the parchment, replaced it safely in the lining of his suit and began taking a closer interest in the game. He noticed that one of the gamblers was winning consistently, even when the odds were stacked against him. Wladek watched the man more carefully and soon realised that he was cheating.

He moved to the other side of the carriage to make sure he could still spot the man cheating when facing him, but he couldn't. If e edged forward and made a place for himself in the circle of gamblers. Every time the cheat had lost twice in a row, Wladek backed him with one ruble, doubling his stake until he won. The cheat was either flattered or considered he would be wise to remain silent about Wladek's luck, because he never once even glanced in his direction. By the time they reached the next station, Wladek had won fourteen rubles, two of which he used to buy himself an apple and a cup of hot soup. He had won enough to last the entire journey to Odessa and, pleased with the thought that he could win even more rubles with his new safe system, he silently thanked the unknown gambler and climbed back on to the train ready to resume the strategy. As his foot touched the top step, lie was knocked flying into a corner. His arm was jerked painfully behind his back and his face was pushed hard against the carriage wall. His nose began to bleed and he could feel the point of a knife touching the lobe of his ear.