“Ready.”
“It’s right below us.”
“Huh?”
Anton giggled. “Don’t just sit there, silly. Look!”
Victor went down the gazebo steps. Under the floorboards he found a rolled-up carpet. He pulled it onto the lawn and unrolled it. There lay the white body tube of a telescope.
“There’s more,” said Anton, and he dashed to the storage shed. He came back with an armload of parts. He made two more trips for parts. In minutes the telescope was assembled, a three-and-a-half-inch reflector Anton had built himself, from scratch, secretly. He had even ground the lens.
Victor was speechless.
“You’ll be able to see the rings of Saturn and the red spot of Jupiter,” said Anton.
Victor stroked the lines of the body tube. It was a work of art, complete with a finder scope and counterbalances made from metal pipes and cement. “It’s beautiful,” he said.
That night, the twins hauled the telescope a half-mile to the clearing on Baron Kerensky’s old estate. The equipment was so heavy they invited their neighbor Kostya to help. He was a big boy, a year older than the twins. Victor was impressed that Kostya already had hair under his arms. Kostya agreed immediately to help. The boy had no friends or siblings and could always be found playing by himself down by the railroad tracks. He was overweight, clumsy and serious beyond his years. He was always anxious for the companionship of the Perov twins, so their proposal of a freezing evening behind a telescope sounded like a great adventure to him. The three boys set out at twilight. Kostya carried the cement counter-weights, while Victor and Anton juggled the rest.
Despite the subfreezing temperatures, the three boys passed four hours trading places behind the lens. They studied the moon, Mars, the cluster of the Seven Sisters, the rings of Saturn. By midnight they were shaking so badly from the cold they couldn’t keep their eye over the lens.
“So you really like it?” asked Anton as they walked along the dirt road back to the dacha.
Victor stopped, set down the telescope and gave his brother a hug. And then, for the first time, they kissed three times on the cheek in the traditional Russian fashion. At that moment, Victor felt very grown up. “It’s the best birthday I ever had,” he said.
The file went on to the next stage in Anton’s life: thirty-seven pages detailing Anton’s political activities at Moscow State University, where he was a geography major, from 1978 to 1982. Most of it was known to Victor. Anton was a suspected member of a subversive environmental group called Green Russia. On February 4, 1980, Anton was arrested for planning a proenvironment demonstration intended to disrupt the 1980 Olympic Games. He was released three days later after promising to cease his political activities. He was arrested again in April 1981 for unfolding a banner in Red Square protesting the construction of a paper mill in Karelia. He was released a week after that at the request of the Communist party. This last intervention came from his mother.
Anton and Victor had had a huge fight after that incident. It took place in Anton’s dormitory room. By that time, Anton already was refusing to live at home.
“Do youwant to ruin your life?” Victor had asked.
Anton sat behind a small, pressed-wood desk that sagged under the weight of dozens of books in Russian and English. He sported a shaggy beard that Victor hated. “There are worse things than death, Victor. Living as a coward, for one.”
Victor stood between the tightly packed beds of the dormitory and shook his head. His brother was becoming a stranger, and Victor was powerless to stop it.
“And I suppose you think I’m a coward.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But I’m a Party member. I must be the enemy.”
“You’re a survivor, Victor. It takes courage to live in a country like ours.”
“So you’re the coward then.”
“Maybe I am.”
Victor sighed. “I’m so tired of this nonsense, Anton. It’s going nowhere. Can’t you just stop it?”
Anton fanned the pages of a textbook. “The funny thing is: Ihad stopped it.”
“Really?”
“I’ve met someone. We’re in love. She hates all this as much as you. I was concentrating on my studies.”
“So what happened?”
“That paper mill, Victor,” said Anton. “It’s on Lake Sini.”
“I know.”
“That’sour lake,” said Anton. “We went there with Papa. Don’t you remember how beautiful it was?”
“All I remember is him getting drunk and you fighting with Yevgenia the whole time.”
Anton flinched. “Those are my best memories of us as a family.”
“Your mind is playing tricks on you.”
Anton got out of his chair and took a step toward Victor. His dark eyes flashed. “They will destroy it, Victor. In twenty years the lake will be dead.”
“They know what they’re doing.”
“How can you say that?” asked Anton. “How can you stand by and do nothing while they destroy everything that is good? I won’t let someone else fight my battles.”
“What battles?” cried Victor. “You’re not starving, are you? You’re getting a university education, aren’t you?”
“I can’t hide away in some institute and pretend it isn’t happening.”
Victor frowned. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Hiding?”
Anton didn’t answer.
“I suppose you’d like to emigrate,” said Victor.
Anton’s eyes narrowed to slits. His jaw slid forward. For a moment, Victor thought his brother was going to strike him. “I’ll never leave Russia. But at least I livein Russia. You think you can look through a little lens, and that it somehow transports you away from all this. But it doesn’t. Your feet are still on the earth, brother. I’m surprised you can see the stars through the barbed wire.”
Anton was so close now his words rained saliva on Victor’s cheek. Victor wiped it away with the back of his hand. He looked hard into Anton’s eyes. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Then why did you come?”
“To talk some sense into you, but now I can see that’s not possible.”
“I take it back,” snapped Anton. “Youare a coward. You would lie to yourself rather than face the truth. You’re as bad as Yevgenia.”
“Yevgenia?” Victor cried, his eyes widening. “It’s thanks to her that you’re not in prison!”
Victor could feel himself losing control. The room had receded, and now he saw only his brother’s eyes, wild and hostile. Anton was deliberately provoking him. Why?
Anton took a step closer. The bristles of his hated beard were inches from Victor’s chin.
“She only did it to save herself the embarrassment of having a son in prison,” Anton sneered.
“Shut up!” said Victor. “She has done her best for you.”
“That commie bitch wouldn’t do — ”
Victor hit him. His fist struck Anton’s left cheek, just above the jaw. There was a thump and then a crash as Anton fell against his desk. He collapsed to the floor, and a stack of books rained over him.
Victor looked down over his brother, panting.
Anton massaged the side of his face, which was already turning red.
Victor couldn’t think. He just stared down at his twin in disbelief.
Anton struggled to his feet. He walked to Victor and turned his other cheek.
“Go ahead,” Anton said. “Hit the other side. One more blow for the Communist party.”
Victor turned and left the room.
It was the last time he’d see Anton alive.
In the months following his brother’s disappearance, Victor spent many hours with Oksana, trying to understand Anton’s self-destructive nature.
“It was the only way he could live,” she told him. “To feel he was part of the struggle.” Though Oksana was sympathetic to Anton’s work, she was too practical to be involved personally
in dissident activities. “I told him many times, nothing but pain will ever come of it.” Oksana had married Anton a few months after the big fight with Victor in the dormitory room. Two years later, Grisha was born, and Anton became increasingly secretive. “It wasn’t that he was sneaking around,” said Oksana. “He was protecting us. When the KGB interviewed me — as they did several times — I was able to say truthfully that I knew nothing. They even tried to turn me into an informant against him — my own husband! The sad thing is, I don’t doubt there are women in our country who would take such an offer. Imagine! Trading your husband for a larger flat!”
In the files, reports of Anton’s environmental activism went on for three more years. This was mostly new information to Victor — rallies, newsletters and not-so-secret meetings. By then Anton was totally cut off from Victor and Yevgenia. Victor didn’t even know about Grisha’s birth until his nephew was two years old.
In February 1982, Anton was arrested for the last time — this time for editing and distributing an “anti-Soviet” publication calledThe Green Gazette , a monthly report on the Soviet Union’s environmental record. Victor had never heard of it. Such journals were passed around in very small circles. Anton’s arrest was part of Soviet leader Yuri Andropov’s last clean-up operation before his death, as though the rot of the country could be laid at the feet of a few subversives. Once again, Anton was released from prison within a week, but this time the KGB had a new tactic, and it was plainly spelled out in the file.
“Suggest immediate draft into Army. Inform university admissions.”
Victor already knew what happened next. Anton, ever a good student, began to fail his courses following his release from prison. He refused to believe the KGB was behind it. He was a husband and a father now, and he was terrified of being separated from his family. He cut himself off from all his political contacts and studied like never before. But the hard work had no effect. Anton received three consecutive failing grades. He became eligible for the draft. His notice arrived by telegram on June 1, 1982.
Because of her position, Yevgenia was informed of the notice, and she told Victor. He tried to speak with Anton about it, but his brother refused to take his calls. It was then, while speaking on the phone with Oksana, that Victor heard the cry of a child in the background and learned he was an uncle.
Anton entered the Army in October. He was sent to Afghanistan in December, and was reported killed in February. The KGB’s strategy had worked. An enemy of the people had been eliminated.
Oksana looked up. Her eyes were filled with rage. “They murdered him.”
Victor said nothing. He had wanted to spare her this. In a way, he had wanted to spare himself too. He knew that, once again, he would be put in the position of defending the system. He didn’t know how to defend this.
Oksana reached the last page in the file. It was a copy of a letter Anton had mailed to Oksana just before he disappeared, a typical letter from a soldier to his girl. He missed her. He missed Grisha. What new words had Grisha added to his vocabulary? He was sorry he hadn’t stopped his dissident activities earlier. He was a father now and had new responsibilities. He would make it up to her. He would be careful. He would come back alive. He would live to see Grisha grow up. In this, the unedited version, the dates and the location matched. The mystery was solved. Victor need never have involved Katherine Sears.
“He’s gone, Oksana.”
Oksana closed the file and handed it back to Victor.
“I want you to do something for me,” she said.
“Anything.”
“You have to promise.”
“Oksana . . .”
Her eyes grew misty with a mixture of sadness and rage. In that moment, Victor was a little scared of her. “Promise!” she said.
“Okay. I promise.”
“Meet her.”
“What!”
“Meet Katherine.”
“I told you. She’ll be arrested.”
“No. Meet her under her terms. Not Boris’s.”
“You’re forgetting about Lena.”
“You’ll have to fix that somehow.”
“You have a great deal of confidence in me.”
“I trust Katherine,” said Oksana. “I don’t know why, but I do.”
Victor stood up and pushed the blanket over Oksana’s legs. “This is insanity. You know I can’t get anywhere near Katherine. She’s under constant surveillance. Boris will be watching me too.”
“You can find a way, if you want to.”
“Oksana — ”
She began to cry. Victor sat down, and she put her head in his chest. She sobbed, “You can do it, Victor . . . you can . . . you can . . .”
Suddenly, a child’s cry rose from the rink. They both looked up. Grisha lay sprawled on the ice screaming. Oksana jumped to her feet and rushed to where he lay. Victor followed. Oksana started to pick up her son.
“No!” he screamed, kicking the ice. “Papa! I want my papa!”
Victor and Oksana exchanged glances. “Uncle Victor is here, Grisha,” Victor said and scooped the little boy off the ice. “Uncle Victor.”
In the car on the way home, Grisha fell asleep in Oksana’s arms.
Victor put both hands on the wheel and squeezed. “I’ll explain it to Grisha tomorrow, Oksana. I’m his uncle, not his father.”
“He’s confused,” said Oksana. “It’s understandable.”
“It’s not right. I don’t want him thinking — ”
“Victor,” said Oksana, and she put her hand on his knee. “Anton loved you.”
Victor drove on, his mind a jumble. He felt as though he had never woken up from the nightmare that had begun his day; the feeling of drowning was still with him. He considered Oksana’s request. It was desperate and foolish.
I don’t deserve you. I’m nothing.
He drove on. He arrived at the turn-off for his flat, but at the last minute he took the car into the thru-lane and kept speeding along Kutuzovsky Prospekt toward the center of Moscow.
“Where are we going?” asked Oksana.
“Into the hurricane.”
“So you’ll do it? You’ll meet Katherine?”
“This is crazy.”
“What’s the plan?”
Victor laughed. “You really think a lot of me, don’t you?”
“I do,” Oksana said solemnly. “It’s all I ever heard from Anton — what a great man his brother was.”
Victor stared ahead thoughtfully.
Oksana said, “So? How are you going to do it?”
“I’m going to need the help of an old friend.”
Oksana looked nervous. “Who?”
“We’ll get to that. First, we have to save Lena. That means going ahead with Boris’s plan.”
“But Katherine will be labeled a spy, you said so yourself.”
“Not if she refuses to meet me.”
“Why would she do that? She’s come so far.”
Through the windshield, the Russian Arch of Triumph came into view. In another quarter-mile they would cross the Moscow River. From there, Victor would take the car a short distance south along the embankment road to the twelfth-century convent of Novodevichy. The former convent was one of the wonders of Moscow; no tourist visit to the Russian capital was complete without a tour of its grounds. Katherine Sears and her tour group were scheduled to arrive there at 3:30 P.M.
Victor squeezed the steering wheel and drove on.
“Someone’s going to have to warn her,” he said.
6
Olga was so furious she could barely look at Katherine Sears.
It was eight-thirty the next morning, and the group of American tourists had gathered in the lobby of the Intourist Hotel for the start of the second day of sightseeing.
Vladimir inched closer to Katherine. “What did you do to Sergeant Olga?” he whispered.
Katherine shrugged. “I went for a walk alone last night on Red Square.”
He mad
e a face to show he was impressed. “Call me next time. How did she catch you?”
“The guard by the doors reported me when I came in. She got to my room before I did.”
Vladimir chuckled. “Is this a hotel or a prison?”
Katherine shrugged.
“Was it worth it?” Vladimir asked.
Katherine didn’t answer. She took her tour schedule from her pocket. It was a copy of the document she had given to Lena Ryzhkova the previous night.
Day Two:
8:00
Breakfast, National Hotel
9:00
Kremlin Armory, Cathedral Square
12:00
Lunch, Metropol Hotel
1:30
Tretyakov National Art Gallery
3:30
Novodevichy Convent
5:00
Rest, Hotel Intourist
7:00
Dinner, Boyarski Room of the Hotel Moskva
Day Three:
7:00
Breakfast, Hotel Intourist
7:30
Bus leaves for Zagorsk
10:00
Tour begins of twelfth-century Sergei Trinity Monastery
Day Four:
7:00
Breakfast, Hotel Intourist
7:30
Bus leaves for airport
10:55
Plane departs for London
Somewhere on this itinerary, Victor would find her. Where? It gave Katherine butterflies to think about it.
She was in good spirits, immune even to the wrath of Olga. The previous day had gone off smoothly. The worst was behind her. She could relax a little now and enjoy her tour. She owed it to herself to try. The trip had cost her three thousand dollars.
Swan Lake, it turned out, was actually Swan Pond. It wound like an hourglass along the west wall of the medieval Novodevichy Convent. But its diminutive size made it no less worthy of Tchaikovsky’s great ballet, for a more idyllic Russian scene Katherine could not imagine. In its glassy surface, the pond reflected the red brick towers, gold onion domes, and Orthodox crosses of the convent as though it had brought them magically to earth. There were no swans to be seen, however, just gray ravens that cawed and demanded handouts.
The Forbidden Zone Page 7
