Komarov lit a cigarette and blew the smoke over Brovko’s head.
“You have done your research, Captain. However, evacuation of Kiev is fantasy. There will be no second explosion. As for the first explosion, correct me if I’m wrong, but unless one were actually there at the time, unless one could reconstruct the reactor as it was before the explosion…”
“Correct,” said Brovko. “Even with a thorough investigation, close approximation is the best we can expect.”
“It’s too bad, with all the facts at hand, we can do nothing to limit idiotic rumors. People claiming milk and vegetables and even Kiev’s water are contaminated. Have you come across rumors during your investigation before coming here, Captain?”
“I heard many from agents and soldiers in the zone. Fish with two heads, alien space vessels, a military plot. One old man on a train heading north claimed the explosion was manufactured in order to move the Ukrainian population to Siberia, where the Stalinist work camps were already rebuilt.”
“Our battle against disinformation has begun,” said Komarov.
“The West will provide more rumors. Imagine our general secretary wanting us to put more trust in the West. Sometimes I think we here in Kiev have become more Soviet than those in Moscow.”
Brovko did not react, but simply stared at Komarov.
“So,” said Komarov, “you were stationed in the GDR. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of the Sherbitsky affair. I can’t imagine anyone in East Berlin these days knowing of it.”
“On the contrary, Major. You’re the man who caught Sherbitsky.”
“I didn’t mean to boast, Captain. I simply wondered, since so many years have passed…”
“It’s still spoken of in the region. In fact, the ‘safe’ house is still there. The room where the murders were committed is called the Sherbitsky room.”
“Quite a grisly affair,” said Komarov, putting out his cigarette.
“Walking into the room and seeing the bodies is an image I cannot forget. And when I discovered the knife belonging to a man I admired… Enough, we’re here to do a job.”
“What can I do?” asked Brovko, sitting more erect.
“For almost a year prior to the so-called accident at Chernobyl, our office has had several individuals under operational observation. I assume Deputy Chairman Dumenko briefed you about the Chernobyl employees, the Kiev militia detective, and the Horvaths’
American cousin?”
Brovko took a notepad from his pocket and referred to it. “One Andrew Zukor, who may also be called Gypsy Moth by the CIA.”
“You are aware we have reason to believe Zukor visited the CIA station in Budapest prior to visiting his cousins last summer?”
“I am.” Brovko looked at the ashtray where Komarov’s cigarette still smoldered. “Of course, Deputy Chairman Dumenko reminded me you were his only source for this information.”
Komarov stood and walked to his window, staring up to the sky where thick clouds obscured the sun. “Perhaps you have misunder-stood your assignment, Captain.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Komarov turned to face Brovko and raised his voice. “I am in the midst of a serious investigation, which could very well involve sabotage, Captain! The Gypsy Moth may be a spy simply trying to uncover information about Chernobyl, or he could have been actively recruiting his cousins! In either case, I would very much appreciate your help!”
Captain Brovko stood halfway up, then sat back down. “My role as an interrogator is sometimes spontaneous, Major. I’ll do what I can to carry your investigation to its conclusion.”
Komarov returned his desk. “Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry.
Sometimes one’s involvement in these cases is personal. You say Azef filled you in on Detective Horvath?”
“He did.”
“Then you know about the women in his life. I want you to interrogate one of them. I want you to bring her here Monday and find out what she knows.”
Komarov walked to the window again. He stood with his back to Brovko and lit another cigarette. His decision not to trust Brovko with his inner feelings had been the correct decision. Perhaps there was even a chance Dumenko had assigned Brovko to observe him.
No matter. He would put his plan in motion in spite of what others thought. Part of the plan was being played now as he waited to see how long Brovko waited before asking which woman to pick up Monday, the day after Russian Orthodox Easter, the day of resurrection.
After a quick dinner of borscht and buttered bread, Lazlo drove to militia headquarters before returning for the overnight portion of his fifth sixteen-hour shift. He didn’t bother looking for the KGB tail. They had followed him all week. Monday it was the faded red Zhiguli when he took Juli to Aunt Magda’s. Tuesday through Thursday a different car or sometimes a van would stay far back, and he would have to turn several corners before detecting them.
This morning, Saturday, they had switched to a Chaika.
In his office he called Tamara.
“You haven’t called in days, Laz. I was worried.”
“I’ve been on sixteen-hour shifts. Evacuees are angry, and I can’t blame them. We’ve been told to watch for looters. The people escape, and their belongings follow them to Kiev. We caught one looter on a hay wagon with radios and televisions stuffed into the bales of hay.”
“Did you learn anything more at the Ministry of Energy?”
“Only what I’ve told you. I’m still trying to contact Mihaly’s wife in Moscow. I’ll try again after I hang up. I’ve met a woman who knew Mihaly. Her name is Juli Popovics…”
“I assume from your hesitation, she was involved in some way with Mihaly?”
“Yes. Involved. She spoke with Mihaly the night before it happened. I’m going to talk with her again tomorrow. Her aunt invited me for Easter dinner.”
“Good,” said Tamara after a pause. “You’ll get something nourishing to eat. Perhaps soon things will be back to normal. Perhaps I’ll acquire a taste for chicken paprikas.”
“It will be better next time. The last chicken was too skinny.”
Tamara laughed. “But I didn’t have to hug a skinny chicken in bed.”
He said good-bye to Tamara and asked the operator to put him through to Municipal Hospital Number Six in Moscow.
He was transferred from one operator to another. When he did get through, the operator said she didn’t have a list of arrivals from Chernobyl. But this time the operator mentioned transferring him to someone in temporary housing. Suddenly, before he could think of what to say, a woman came on the line and said she would get Nina Horvath, who was down the hall.
“This is Nina Horvath.” Nina’s voice was soft, like a child anticipating punishment.
“Nina. It’s Lazlo.”
“Lazlo. Laz…” She began crying. A few seconds later she spoke again. “I’m sorry, Laz. I’m so sorry…”
“You don’t have to say anything. There’s nothing we can do now.”
“I… they buried him today. I went to the service.”
“I wish I had been there, Nina.”
“The girls ask for you, Laz. First they ask about Mihaly. But now they know, and they ask for Uncle Laz.”
“Do you want me to come get you? I’ll bring you back here to my apartment…”
“Don’t come to Moscow, Laz. They’re sending us to Kisbor.”
“Kisbor? Why would they send you there?”
“Because our relatives live there. Because we can’t go back to Pripyat.”
“I’m your relative. Why can’t you come here?”
There was static on the line, followed by silence.
“Nina?”
“I’m still here, Laz. I wanted to come to Kiev, but they insisted we can’t because of refugees already there. They said for the children it’s best to go farther away. In Kisbor the girls will be with people they know. Bela and Mariska and their baby…”
Nina sobbed for a moment before continuing.
“I’m sorry. I need to tell you something. The KGB questioned me about Mihaly’s work at Chernobyl. They’re trying to implicate Mihaly, and I know they’re wrong. But there’s a woman… a technician named Juli Popovics. Mihaly
… was involved with her.”
“Nina…”
“Don’t talk. I know Mihaly told you about her. I knew months ago. Mihaly promised they would stop seeing one another. I was so angry. I remember thinking at the time I wanted to make them suffer. Mihaly slept on the floor, and I slept in bed, alone with my anger. And now… now I’m simply alone. When I heard about the explosion, when my neighbor said she was driving to the plant, I took the girls, thinking it would help. I thought we could get Mihaly. He’d come out and we’d all go away together, and this other thing, this relationship with Juli Popovics, would be finished. He’d see us there, his family come to get him…”
When Nina finished weeping, Lazlo knew he would have to question her. But what could he say? Speaking of Juli and her pregnancy was out of the question. He also needed to avoid mentioning Cousin Andrew Zukor because of the possibility the phone was bugged.
“Nina, it’s not the right time, I know, but I must ask several questions. I have reason to believe the authorities might try to blame Mihaly for the accident.”
“But…”
“Listen. I’ve talked to the Ministry of Energy and… I’ve talked to Juli Popovics.”
“She’s there?”
“She came to Kiev with thousands of others. I think because of her relationship with Mihaly, they may try to use her in some way. Tell me, if you can remember, what kind of questions the KGB asked you.”
Nina told Lazlo about the interview, how the interrogator asked general questions about their family, about life in Pripyat, and finally said he knew of Mihaly’s affair with Juli Popovics. She told about the blatant suggestion that Mihaly was involved in sabotage.
When Nina gave the name of the KGB officer who interviewed her, Lazlo asked her to repeat it.
“Komarov, first initial G. A major. Do you know him?”
“He’s head of the branch office in Kiev.”
“And now he’s here in Moscow… trying to put blame on Mihaly.”
“We can’t know for certain, Nina. Most important now is you and the girls. Did doctors examine you thoroughly?”
“They say Anna and Ilonka weren’t overexposed. They’ve gotten plenty of iodine. But I’ve talked to others. I know it could affect the girls in the future.”
“What about you?”
“It’s the same for me, but worse for children. Radiation is especially dangerous for growing cells. All I can do is pray. We ask God for help, and he gives us this. We’ll go to Easter mass here tomorrow, they’ll fly us to Lvov, and we’ll go to Kisbor. Come visit us there as soon as you can. And, Laz?”
“Yes.”
“Is Juli Popovics safe? Did she make it to Kiev without getting hurt?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Good. I have to go. Others are waiting to use the phone.”
“Kiss the girls for me, Nina.”
“I will.”
Easter dinner with Juli and Aunt Magda reminded Lazlo of boyhood Easters. Sausage, veal loaf, cheese, bread, and hard-boiled eggs, all prepared on Good Friday, put into the Easter basket, and taken to church to be blessed on Holy Saturday. The smell of the food evoked images from boyhood. His parents healthy and strong, his kid brother, Mihaly, running to keep up as they walked uphill from the village of Kisbor with the blessed food.
The Easter meal is served cold on a large platter. After prayer, a single blessed egg is peeled and divided equally among those present as a reminder of who shared the Easter feast. According to tradition, if you experience misfortune during the coming year, you will remember those with whom you shared the egg, and this will give you strength.
Aunt Magda’s Easter tradition was the same. She said decorated eggs dated back to before Christ. According to legend, as long as someone in the world decorated Easter eggs, the world would continue.
While he ate his portion of the blessed egg, Lazlo wondered if Mihaly had a chance to think of tradition before the reactor exploded.
After the shared egg was eaten, Lazlo uncorked the Hungarian wine he brought. He, Juli, and Aunt Magda gave a toast to safety and peace of mind for all Chernobyl victims and refugees. Aunt Magda said because she had no children, she had celebrated Easter alone since her husband died several years earlier. This year she was grateful to have guests. During their toast, Lazlo noticed that, although she held up her glass, Juli had only a sip of wine.
As they ate, the conversation naturally turned to questions about Chernobyl. Radio Moscow’s latest report was two deaths and a hundred or so injured. Lazlo described the roadblocks, the refugees sent to collective farms. Juli said years of illness and an increased probability of cancer could be expected among refugees and emergency workers.
“We may all die of this someday,” she said, putting down her fork and looking out the window. “Not suddenly, but gradually.
Chernobyl children will be frightened of rain and snow. Even those receiving potassium iodide have no guarantees.”
“No iodine for me,” said Aunt Magda. “I’d rather the children have it. Neighbors have asked about Chernobyl because they know Juli worked there. I don’t know what to say. Yesterday while I weeded the garden, Mariya Grinkevich said men are watching the house.”
Juli nodded and turned to Lazlo. “I’ve seen a car on the road with two men inside.”
“Don’t worry,” said Lazlo. “If you see them, it means they want you to know you’re being watched. It’s simply a warning.”
“Do they watch everyone who worked at Chernobyl?” asked Aunt Magda.
“I’m not sure,” said Lazlo.
“I think they would like to,” said Juli. “Mihaly said the KGB was constantly around, waiting for something to happen so they could cover it up.”
After dinner Aunt Magda stayed in the kitchen while Juli and Lazlo went into the living room. Lazlo sat on the sofa, watching as Juli walked to the front window. Her cotton dress hung loosely about her waist. The sun through the window enveloped her. Although Juli’s child did not show, the loose dress reminded him of Nina several summers earlier, pregnant with Ilonka.
“I can’t see the car now,” said Juli. “You said if I can’t see them I should worry.”
“I saw them on my way here,” said Lazlo. “They’re parked up the street near the corner.”
When Juli left the window and sat beside him on the sofa, Lazlo stared at her profile, wondering why she reminded him of Nina.
True, they both had brown hair, both were slender and about the same height. But Nina’s eyes were brown, whereas Juli’s were greenish-gray. She moved slightly closer and turned to face him. The sun from the window shadowing her face brought forth an image from youth. The visage of a fictitious young woman from boyhood dreams. A young woman not only beautiful, but someone to save from danger. The age-old boyhood fantasy, becoming a hero. However, boyhood was long gone, stolen away by the world of guns and reactors and the KGB.
Juli put her hand on his hand. “I’m sorry, Lazlo. I’ve done nothing but add sadness to your life.” Tears came to her eyes. “Your brother is gone, and I’m…”
“You haven’t created sadness, Juli. It’s always there, a part of life. Please go on. We need to talk about Mihaly.”
Juli took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “So much of Mihaly is gone. He was always joking. It was part of him. He joked when he didn’t want to talk about something. He joked when I brought up his family. It was because the effect of our relationship on his family overwhelmed him.”
“How would he have reacted to the baby?”
Juli looked down. “I’ve imagined it a thousand different ways, selfish ways with Mihaly deserting me, or blaming me.”
“Do you think he would have blamed you?”
“No. I imagined it because I thoug
ht it would be easier to say good-bye. I was going to tell him about the baby Friday on the bus.
But he was worried about the reactor. Instead of telling him, I kept it from him and… we argued. The same argument. One of us saying we must end it. The other softening. Back and forth…”
Juli folded her hands in her lap and looked up at him. “Technology rules our lives. We act like the machines. All this damned logic when nothing is really logical. Bringing children into the world, keeping them healthy, giving them moments of happiness along the way. And after they’ve grown up, happiness disappears.”
When Aunt Magda brought plum brandy, Juli went into the kitchen for water instead. Back on the sofa, when Juli looked at him above her water glass, Lazlo saw the emotions of a woman. He was reminded of Nina sipping wine at dinner last winter in Pripyat. He was reminded of Tamara’s eyes glowing in candlelight at Club Ukrainka. He saw in Juli’s eyes a sadness he had seen in his mother’s eyes when she was alive.
“I wonder,” said Juli, “if the KGB knows what Mihaly told me.”
“You mean the test on the reactor?”
“Yes. What if the chief engineer was knowingly doing something dangerous? Mihaly said the plant might be a guinea pig. The chief engineer wasn’t there. Why wouldn’t he be there when the experiment was his idea?”
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