The man she’d seen in Harlem, the American police agent, was by the edge of the pool. She couldn’t enter without being seen. If he’d already checked the sun terrace he would be suspicious if she suddenly appeared. He might find the fire escape. He might find her clothes in the garbage. The only place he couldn’t have checked was the women’s changing rooms. It was accessible from both the pool and the outside deck. Elena switched direction, walking away from the agent. She pushed on the door and stepped inside.
Heading towards her locker, a hand came down on her shoulder. Startled, she turned. It was Raisa.
– Where have you been?
– I was in the sauna.
The lie was a flash of improvised genius. Elena’s face was red and sweaty. Raisa seemed to mull over this explanation and Elena realized had Zoya been in this position Raisa would’ve questioned her further. Instead, Raisa nodded, accepting it as the truth. Elena picked up a towel, wrapping it around her. Raisa asked:
– Did you come down from the room in your swimsuit?
Elena shook her head, retrieving her clothes from the locker. She was about to change when Raisa stopped her.
– You can shower and change in your room. Hurry, we’re late.
Elena was annoyed at being spoken to as if she were a child and any guilt she might have felt about her secret enterprise quickly faded.
Stepping into the corridor they came to face to face with the American secret-police officer – the man from Harlem. His eyes were bloodshot, red capillaries like the roots of a tree branching out from his black pupils, patches of perspiration on his shirt. Elena tried to remain calm. Raisa asked, speaking in English:
– Can I help you?
Yates looked down at Elena, ignoring Raisa. He reached out, placing a finger on the side of Elena’s face, catching a drop of sweat. He held the drop of sweat up to his eye, as though it were evidence.
– I’m FBI officer Yates. I’m going to be watching the both of you very closely from now on.
Raisa glanced down at Elena, then back at Yates. Yates stepped out of their way.
*
Raisa remained silent in the elevator. When Elena tried to speak she angrily gestured for her to say nothing. On the twentieth floor they walked at a brisk pace to the girls’ room. Not until Raisa was inside and had locked the door did she speak.
– I need you to tell me if something is going on. Don’t lie to me.
Raisa grabbed Elena’s arm tight. Elena was shocked.
– You’re hurting me!
– What is going on?
Zoya joined them.
– What’s happened?
Raisa was looking at Elena.
– Elena, tell me, right now, what are you involved in?
Uncomfortable under her stare, Elena turned to the television. On the screen a brightly coloured cartoon car drove off a cliff, exploding in a shower of blue and green and pink stars. Her reply was a whisper.
– Nothing.
Raisa let go of her daughter’s arm, in quiet disbelief at what she was about to say.
– I don’t believe you.
Moscow Novye Cheremushki Khrushchev’s Slums Apartment 1312
Same Day
Leo was not expecting to have any word from or contact with his family for the duration of their trip. The same was true for every family who’d said goodbye to a son or daughter. They’d been told it was too complicated to arrange a phone call unless there was an emergency. Two days had passed since Leo had watched their plane take off for New York while he remained at the airport, among the remnants of the farewell ceremony. When everyone made their way from the viewing platform as the airliner disappeared into the distance, Leo remained standing long after it could no longer be seen. His family would be gone for eight days. To Leo it felt an impossibly long time.
The heatwave showed no sign of abating. It was approaching midnight and Leo sat at his kitchen table, wearing a vest and a pair of shorts, a glass of lukewarm water on the table, cards spread before him, his life on hold until his family returned. The cards were a distraction, an anaesthetic that gently numbed his impatience. He concentrated on the game at hand, achieving a meditative state of thoughtlessness. The nights were more difficult than the days. At work he was able to keep busy, resorting to cleaning the factory floor, perhaps the only manager ever to do so, in an attempt to push towards a state of physical exhaustion so that he might be able to sleep. At home, his strategy revolved around playing cards until he was on the brink of sleep, until he could hold his eyes open no longer. Last night he’d slept at the table, concerned that if he made the move to the bedroom he’d wake up and his chance of catching even an hour’s sleep would slip away. Tonight he was waiting for that same moment, the point at which his eyes became heavy and he could lower his head onto the table, face pressed against the upturned cards, relieved that another day had passed.
About to place down a card, his arm froze, the two of spades pinched between his fingers. He could hear footsteps inthe corridor. It was almost midnight, an unlikely time for someone to return home. He waited, tracking the footsteps. They stopped outside his apartment. He dropped the card, hurrying to the door, opening it even before the person had even knocked. It was an agent wearing KGB uniform, a young man – his brow was dripping with sweat having climbed the thirteen flights of stairs. Leo spoke first.
– What’s happened?
– Leo Demidov?
– That’s right. What’s happened?
– Come with me.
– What is this about?
– You need to come with me.
– Does it concern my family?
– My instructions are to collect you. I’m sorry. That’s all I know.
It took a concerted act of discipline not to grip the agent by his shoulders and shake an answer from him. However, it was probably true that he knew nothing. Controlling himself, Leo returned to the apartment, hurrying towards Elena’s bed, sliding his hand under the mattress. The diary was gone.
*
In the car Leo placed his hands on his knees, remaining silent as he was driven into the centre of the city. His thoughts were ablaze with possibilities of what might have happened. He paid no attention to the journey, breaking from his anxious theorizing only when the car finally stopped. They were outside his former place of work, the Lubyanka – the headquarters of the KGB.
Manhattan Hotel Grand Metropolitan 44th Street
Same Day
While the students ate lunch at the hotel, Raisa requested a phone call to her husband in Moscow, arguing that this was the only opportunity before the dress rehearsal that she would have to speak to him. The ability to lie convincingly was a talent that she had been forced to acquire as a young woman trying to survive during Stalin’s years of terror, fearful that every rejection from every man who made a pass at her would bring an allegation of anti-Soviet behaviour. In this instance she claimed that Leo’s elderly father was sickly and she wanted to make sure his condition had not worsened. She faced no resistance from the American authorities, who were more than happy to make arrangements, instead facing pressure from her colleagues, particularly Mikael Ivanov, who did not want members of the group phoning home. Raisa dismissed his objections: she was leading the delegation, not a homesick student, and a phone call to her husband was hardly an issue that need concern him, particularly if the Americans did not object. Of course, Raisa never believed the phone call would be private. The Americans and the Soviets would listen to every word. In view of such constraints, her dialogue needed to be coded. In her favour, Leo would understand from the mere fact of the phone call that something was wrong and she hoped, with careful phrasing, to communicate enough of events that he could offer an opinion. He would know very quickly whether there was something genuinely wrong or whether her anxiety was unwarranted.
Sitting in her hotel room, perched on the edge of the bed, she waited, staring at the phone on the side cabinet. If authorities in Moscow agre
ed to the request, Leo was going to be brought from their apartment to a phone. Once he was ready, the international call would be put through. Rationalizing both the Soviet and American position, she guessed that they were keen to hear what she had to say. If she made any remark the Soviets didn’t approve of the call would be cut short.
Almost an hour had passed, the students would be finishing lunch soon – the dress rehearsal was due to begin. Time was running out. Raisa stood up, pacing the room, uncertain if the call was going to happen. Belatedly it occurred to her that she’d never spoken to Leo on a telephone before.
The phone rang. She jumped for it. A voice in Russian said:
– We have your husband. Are you ready to take the call?
– Yes.
There was a pause, a click – a sound like the rustling of papers.
– Leo?
There was no reply. She waited. Her impatience got the better of her.
– Leo?
– Raisa.
His voice was distorted, almost unrecognizable. She pressed the phone close to her ear, fearful of losing a sound. It took restraint not to simply spill her emotions: she needed to tread carefully and remember the lies she’d told to set up the call.
– How is your father? Is he feeling better?
There was a long delay and it was difficult to interpret it as either Leo’s confusion or the connection. Finally he replied:
– My father is still unwell. But his condition is not any worse.
She smiled: Leo had not only realized that the lie was a pretext for calling, he’d left the excuse open in case she needed to call again. He asked, failing to conceal his anxiety:
– How is the trip?
Raisa was forced to respond indirectly, stating the points of concern without elaboration.
– Today I met officials at the United Nations, where the first concert is to be held, and they had no questions regarding the plans. Previously they’d been involved very closely. Today they accepted the plans without comment.
Once again there was a delay. Raisa waited, wondering what interpretation he’d offer. Finally he said:
– No comments?
His response was the same as hers. It was unusual for Soviet officials not to stamp their authority on plans, not to interfere.
– None.
– You must be… pleased?
– Surprised.
Raisa didn’t know how much time she had. It was essential she bring up the second point troubling her.
– Leo, the girls are nervous. Elena particularly.
– Elena?
– She doesn’t seem herself. She spends a lot of time on her own.
– Have you spoken to her?
– She says nothing’s wrong.
The phone crackled against Raisa’s ear, reminding her of the fragility of the connection, it could be cut at any point. Suddenly frantic, she blurted out:
– Leo, I don’t believe her. What should I do?
The delay was so long that she was sure the call had been terminated. She asked:
– Leo? Leo!
Leo’s voice was firm.
– Don’t allow her to attend the concert. Raisa, youhear me? Don’t allow There was a click. The phone crackled. The connection was lost.
Moscow
Lubyanka Square
The Lubyanka, Headquarters of the Secret Police
Same Day
Leo repeated Raisa’s name, raising his voice each time. The phone was silent. The connection was dead.
The door to the office opened. He’d been left alone during the conversation, an absurd illusion of privacy and a deeply cynical ploy, no doubt in the hope that he would lower his guard. It was simply ridiculous to imagine that his conversation hadn’t been recorded and scrutinized. A woman entered the office, saying:
– I’m sorry, Leo Demidov: the connection was broken.
The woman appeared to be a secretary. She was not in uniform. He asked:
– Can we reach my wife again?
The woman squeezed her lips, compressing them into a feeble imitation of a sympathetic smile.
– Perhaps you can talk tomorrow.
– Why can’t you put me through now?
– Tomorrow.
Her condescending tone, heavy with the implication that she was reasonable and he was not, infuriated Leo.
– Why not now?
– I’m sorry, that’s not possible.
The woman’s apologies were flat and insincere. Leo was still clutching the phone, holding it out towards the woman as if he expected her to bring it back to life.
– I need to speak to my wife.
– She’s on her way to the dress rehearsal. You can talk tomorrow.
The lie increased Leo’s unease. For her to have the authority to lie meant that she was an agent. He shook his head.
– She’s not on her way anywhere. She’ll be doing exactly the same as I’m doing right now, holding the phone, asking to speak to me.
– If you want to leave a message I can try to arrange that she will receive it tonight.
– Connect us, please, now.
The agent shook her head:
– I’m sorry.
Leo refused to let go of the telephone.
– Let me speak to someone here.
– Who do you wish to speak to?
– The person in charge.
– In charge of what?
– In charge of whatever is going on in New York!
– Your wife is in charge of the New York trip. And she’s now on her way to the dress rehearl. You can speak to her tomorrow to find out how it went.
Leo imagined the agents in nearby offices; agents who’d listened to his telephone call and who were now listening to this exchange. He imagined the discussion they were having. They’d established one vital point: he didn’t know what was happening in New York and neither did his wife. There was no chance he’d be allowed to speak to Raisa until she was home, no matter what scene he made, no matter how hard he pressed his demands. She was on her own.
Manhattan Hotel Grand Metropolitan 44th Street
Same Day
Raisa was still holding the receiver, demanding Mikael Ivanov reconnect her with Leo. Mikael shook his head, as though he personally controlled the telephone exchange. His smug sense of authority was utterly infuriating. Sounding reasonable and measured, he said:
– The dress rehearsal starts in less than an hour. The students have finished lunch. We need to leave. You’re behaving irrationally. You’re here to ensure the smooth running of this concert. That is your priority.
Raisa was taken aback by the intensity of her hatred for this man.
– One minute more isn’t going to make a difference.
– If you didn’t think you could manage your duties without your husband perhaps he should have led this trip rather than you. It’s disappointing to see you so incapable.
It was a shrewd attack; any further request to speak to Leo was a humiliating confirmation of the allegation that she was weak. She would not be allowed a second conversation. She would not beg.
Raisa hung up the phone, remaining by the cabinet, running Leo’s advice through her mind.
– Where’s my daughter?
– As I said, the students finished lunch. They’re in their rooms. They’re waiting to assemble on the coach. We’re all waiting for you.
Raisa noted that he didn’t ask which daughter: he knew she was referring to Elena. How did he know? He’d listened to the call, or perhaps he was also involved, but involved with what?
Without another word, she strode out of the room, past Ivanov, fully aware that he was going to follow her.
– Raisa Demidova!
She reached the end of the corridor, knocking on the door to Elena’s room. Ivanov was running to catch up:
– What are you going to do?
Elena opened the door. As Raisa entered, she turned to Ivanov.
– Get the ot
her students in the coach. I’ll be down in a few minutes. My family is none of your concern.
She didn’t wait for a reply, shutting the door in his face.
Zoya and Elena stood side by side, in the clothes they would be wearing tonight – ready to leave for the dress rehearsal. Raisa said:
– Elena, I want you to stay here. If tonight goes well, you can attend tomorrow’s concert.
After a fractional pause, stunned by the news, Elena sprang forward, flush with indignation.
– What are you talking about? How can I not attend the performance?
– I’ve made a decision. There’s nothing more to be said.
Elena’s face reddened. Her eyes glistened with tears.
– I’ve flown from Moscow only to be told I must stay in my room!
– Something is wrong!
– What is wrong?
– I don’t know. But I’ve spoken to Leo and he agrees As soon as she mentioned Leo’s name Raisa regretted it. Elena jumped on the idea that Leo was behind this.
– Leo! He’s been against this trip from the beginning. What has he been saying? He’s paranoid. He sees intrigue and deceit and treachery everywhere. He’s sick. Truly, he’s sick to his soul. Nothing bad is going on. I promise you. There is no reason to keep me in my room just because a bitter former agent has forgotten that not everything in the world is twisted and sinister.
Elena referred to Leo as a former secret agent, rather than her father. Raisa had undermined Leo’s relationship with the girls. Elena began to cry.
Agent 6 ld-3 Page 13
