Face Me When You Walk Away

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Face Me When You Walk Away Page 26

by Brian Freemantle


  Josef selected another cassette.

  ‘This,’ he said, ‘was recorded at the Washington embassy. In it, you will hear Comrade Illinivitch threaten to leak details of the party to American newspapers, specifically to wreck the President’s reception. You will hear my reaction to that threat.’

  Devgeny was staring at him with a look of complete hatred. Illinivitch was hunched in his chair, gazing back at the table. Josef was coming to the end of the recordings. Without introduction, he played those of his conversations in Washington on every other occasion when he had confronted Illinivitch.

  ‘It is clear from the last recording,’ said Josef, ‘that Comrade Illinivitch was still urging me to allow the tour to collapse. He was a senior, responsible man in the Ministry for which I was currently working. To ignore that order amounted to insubordination. I decided upon insubordination to avoid exactly the situation of which I am being accused today.’

  His back ached. He would be glad to sit down.

  ‘When I discovered that Balshev was a heroin user, I obtained it from Endelman and supplied it to him,’ confessed Josef.

  He inserted the tape in which Endelman boasted in the hotel room of making Nikolai dependent on drugs. ‘That is the man responsible for Balshev’s addiction,’ said Josef. ‘A man whose association with the writer was arranged by Comrade Illinivitch and his willing helpers in America.’

  He paused, feeling confident.

  ‘Once I became aware of it, I knowingly allowed the use to continue,’ he conceded. ‘I knew that if the man did not have drugs, he would collapse and need admission to hospital. By supplying him, I prevented his addiction becoming public knowledge in the West, with the consequent scandal that would have been created. Every public moment of the tour was a complete and outstanding success, culminating in that amazing picture of representatives of the People’s Republic of China being forced to acknowledge publicly the superiority of a Russian author.’

  He paused, nearly finished.

  ‘That, Comrades, is the cause of the American anger. You have heard that the Washington ambassador is here. I suggest you ask him the real reason for the reception. It was given to illustrate to Peking they were striving too hard to capitalize upon the friendship negotiated by Nixon and Kissinger. We were, if you like, duped into the reception for this purpose. By manoeuvring the introduction to the Chinese representatives, I reversed the whole thing into a sole triumph for the U.S.S.R. Perhaps you might also question Comrade Vladimirov about this …’ he said.

  He played the tape in which the Washington ambassador was linked with Semyonov’s investigation of the photographer by Illinivitch’s boast the night they had arrived in Washington.

  ‘By arranging an ambulance to be at the airport, I have saved Comrade Balshev’s life. You have heard from the doctor it is possible he will write again. I will concede that the press-conference was bad. You have been able to establish from the early recordings that the writer was in an incredibly nervous state. I was trying to do what was expected of me, present Balshev to the world’s press, but at the same time protect him from any interrogative reporting. Because of a certain notoriety, I became the object of the press–conference. You will see it did not happen again. I reiterate what I said at the beginning of this inquiry. I am innocent of the charges laid against me. Further, my actions throughout the tour were always pro-Russian. I remain what I always have been, a man proud of my country, determined to do nothing to disgrace it.’

  It had gone well, decided Josef, reaching the climax. Very well.

  ‘I believe I have established,’ he concluded, ‘that Comrade Illinivitch, eagerly assisted by Comrades Semyonov and Vladimirov, embarked on a plot to disgrace myself and Nikolai Balshev, in an attempt to displace, eventually, the Minister of Culture.’

  He sat down, gratefully. An official walked over and carefully collected the tape recordings. The Party Secretary muttered with the men sitting either side of him, then looked at Josef.

  ‘Thank you, Comrade Bultova,’ he said. The Committee wishes you to retire. Perhaps you would wait in the ante-room.’

  Josef bowed, formally, picked up his empty briefcases and left the room. Illinivitch was still staring fixedly at the table as he passed.

  24

  It took exactly an hour and fourteen minutes before there was movement from the committee room. Josef timed it exactly, sitting opposite one of those large, numeralled clocks that always seem to hang in official places, and watching its slow, minute-by-minute progress.

  Finally, when the door opened, only Devgeny came out. For several moments they stared at each other. Then Devgeny said, curtly, ‘The committee has completely exonerated you.’

  Oh no, corrected Josef, immediately. They had done more than that. There were at least a dozen minor officials and secretaries who could have been deputed to tell him the verdict. But the committee had ordered Devgeny to do it, so that everyone would know the disfavour into which he was now held for accusing the wrong person. Josef had expected to win, but not so completely. Devgeny’s credibility before the Praesidium was badly damaged, even before the accusations that would come from Illinivitch.

  The other man’s humiliation would be made greater by reserve, knew Josef. He remained expressionless, gathering his briefcases yet again.

  ‘I haven’t finished,’ said the Minister. Josef faced him, curiously. He seemed more controlled than the negotiator would have expected.

  ‘What?’ He allowed a smear of insolence.

  ‘My office,’ demanded Devgeny and moved off, quickly, before Josef could protest. The ministerial suite was quite near the committee chamber, at the side of the Kremlin. Josef followed, surprised. After what had happened that evening, Devgeny would do nothing to expose himself further, he felt, so the summons didn’t make sense. Did the man want a truce, Josef wondered. Did Devgeny realize the closeness of official censure or maybe even arrest after Illinivitch was questioned and intend abandoning any pride in the sheer effort to survive? Perhaps. How wonderful, thought Josef, to reject him. It would be the final victory.

  Devgeny motioned him to a chair and settled comfortably behind his large desk. He appeared quite relaxed. Suddenly he smiled, that ugly expression Josef found so unpleasant. Devgeny nodded to the briefcases.

  ‘You want to record everything, of course,’ he mocked.

  This wasn’t right, thought Josef.

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed, lifting the briefcase on to the desk and starting the machine. If it weren’t so serious, the behaviour would be childish, decided Josef.

  ‘No doubt you will be making a recording,’ he said.

  Devgeny indicated a drawer on the left-hand side of his desk.

  ‘Illinivitch has been arrested,’ reported the Minister. ‘Semyonov and Vladimirov have been detained for questioning, too. There’s little doubt they’ll face trial.’

  Josef remained expressionless, waiting.

  ‘You’ve been very clever, Josef,’ conceded Devgeny. ‘It was brilliant, restricting your defence only to Illinivitch, leaving me out completely. To try to link us, without evidence, would have weakened your case.’

  Josef stared at him, watchfully.

  ‘Illinivitch wanted to be Russia’s negotiator, didn’t he?’ guessed Josef, anxious for confirmation. ‘That’s why he involved himself.’

  Devgeny smiled slowly, in admiration.

  ‘You are very good,’ admitted the Minister. Answering the question, he said, ‘I’ve never known anyone covet anything as much as he envied what you did.’

  Josef nodded, satisfied. He’d make the tape available, he decided, as additional evidence.

  ‘I was so sure that there was no way you could possibly extricate yourself,’ continued the Minister.

  Josef remained mystified. Devgeny wouldn’t admit involvement in the precarious position in which he knew himself to be, aware it was being recorded, he decided. Not unless he was sure Josef could never use the tape.

 
; ‘But it doesn’t matter,’ said Devgeny, abruptly. ‘It doesn’t matter at all.’

  Conscious of both recordings, Josef sneered, ‘If there is a point, can we get to it? I don’t imagine Illinivitch will face trial without listing precisely your role in the affair. Both Semyonov and Vladimirov will support him. Shouldn’t you be preparing a defence?’

  Devgeny nodded, still admiring. ‘I can see why you are so good at what you do, Josef. You’ve always got control. I like that.’

  Josef sighed, too obviously.

  ‘I was too confident,’ admitted Devgeny. ‘A little like you are now. I was so sure that I had sealed every escape route that I was careless before the committee. I imagined the court was the place at which all the evidence should be produced and you would be absolutely crushed. But I was wrong.’

  He paused, briefly, then added, ‘But I’ve won, Josef.’

  ‘Devgeny,’ said Josef, purposely using only the surname to increase the disrespect. ‘I am beginning to doubt your mental condition … unless you’re trying to apologize …’.

  Devgeny cut him off, with a laugh. ‘Stop performing for the recording, Josef,’ he said. ‘You won’t put this tape before anyone else.’

  Josef felt the first prick of uncertainty.

  ‘I decided to destroy you, utterly,’ confessed Devgeny. ‘Nothing was overlooked. I covered everything.’

  He leaned back in his chair, looking over Josef’s head. ‘I got every report and piece of information and in the end I missed the entire point of it. I didn’t realize it until you were defending yourself and by then it was too late.’

  He patted the mound of documents before him, then lit a cigarette, one of the cheap ones of which nearly half is an empty cardboard tube.

  ‘The recording of your row with Nikolai, because he stole your pills, was the first indication I had. There was a point to the other conversations, but not that. No one would have recorded that unless he anticipated a subsequent inquiry. Why?’

  He looked down at the negotiator, as if he expected an answer and moved two of the files, as if it would be there instead.

  ‘And Endelman troubled me, from the very beginning. It was Illinivitch’s idea, to keep the letters from you, so that you’d have no opportunity to argue it before the Ministry Committee. It was to be the clearest indication of a plot against you, to try to prompt you to over-compensate and make a mistake. But it still didn’t make sense for you to accept it as easily as you did. You had the power to refuse and you knew it. But you placed the request on official record and then trapped Illinivitch. Why? Why record the conversation with Nikolai and then accept Endelman so easily?’

  Josef sat completely motionless, leaning slightly forward as if anxious not to miss anything the other man said.

  ‘There had to be a point, I knew. But even as you were talking in there, I couldn’t see it. Then you asked a question and I remembered something I had seen in one of the earliest reports I’d ever read. So I looked it up while you were destroying everything I had carefully built up and realized the mistake it was too late for me to rectify.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ demanded Josef.

  ‘It was the camp, wasn’t it Josef? It all started way back there in the camp and I was too stupid to appreciate it.’

  He paused, trying to increase Josef’s discomfort.

  ‘You were fond of Medev, weren’t you Josef? He was kind to you, after your father died. I have a report from the commandant showing how upset you were by the old man’s death and how Medev looked after you. He really wanted to care for you in every way, didn’t he?’

  He patted the folders again. ‘Your whole life is here, Josef.’

  ‘You’re mad,’ said the negotiator.

  ‘It didn’t work, Josef, that rope you gave him. Oh, we knew about your suicide attempt. An informer saw you. I knew even before your release, the following morning, but I couldn’t overrule a decision that had been made by the Praesidium. I was in disgrace again and had to bend with the wind.’

  The question churned in Josef’s mind, but he refused Devgeny the satisfaction of asking it. The Minister anticipated it.

  ‘Medev tried to hang himself the day after you were released. But your attempt had strained the rope. It snapped.’

  Poor Medev, thought Josef. Poor, sensitive, kind Medev.

  ‘Were those questions very important to you?’

  Josef shook his head. ‘You’re not making sense.’

  ‘The question you put to Maturin, back there in committee. “Is it possible to recognize a homosexual?” you asked. It is for you, isn’t it Josef? It’s the easiest thing in the world. And it isn’t just your American training as a psychologist. You’re ashamed of the attraction you feel, aren’t you? But as you got the doctor to admit, some men who feel the attraction can resist it, providing it’s not too sustained, can’t they? That’s why you gave Medev the suicide rope, after pretending to make an attempt to satisfy your own conscience, wasn’t it Josef? You didn’t intend to kill yourself. I know that. That attempt was a charade, performed entirely for your own benefit. Refusing to accept the fact, even to yourself, is how you resist it, isn’t it Josef?’

  Josef shook his head, unable to find words.

  ‘But you knew Medev would try, didn’t you? Just as you knew you’d give in, if you stayed together much longer. And you thought you were there for life, after all. The risk had to be removed, hadn’t it Josef?’

  Josef just stared.

  ‘You always intended Medev to have the rope, to remove the threat. And you knew Balshev would take your tablets. That’s why you let him know they were there. He had to be destroyed, just like the temptation in the camp. That was why you had to record the argument, to establish your innocence before you’d even been accused. It was easy for a trained psychologist to recognize Balshev’s homosexuality, long before the tour began, wasn’t it? That was what you objected to, not involving yourself in literary negotiations. You were frightened, weren’t you Josef, just like you were at the camp, that it would become as big a temptation as it had been with Medev.’

  The Minister paused, expecting Josef to speak, but the negotiator said nothing.

  ‘And then Endelman arrived and there was more than one homosexual,’ resumed the Minister. ‘So you changed your attack upon Balshev. By throwing them together, you achieved two things. You hastened Balshev’s destruction, certainly sexually, and you lessened the risk of either making an approach to you that you would have found difficulty in resisting. There was no surprise, finding them in bed, was there? That was inevitable. He’s dead, incidentally.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Endelman. He took the one hundred per cent pure heroin you got from the doctor in Washington. Vladimirov made a full report about that, too. I thought, initially, you’d got it for Nikolai. Endelman took it, as you knew he would, not realizing its purity. I suppose you waited until you knew he had taken an injection, so he wouldn’t question how you were able to return one envelope. Vladimirov’s report contained the conversation you had with the embassy doctor. You were insistent, weren’t you Josef, on knowing the effect of such a pure dose upon an addict? The doctor recalls telling you quite clearly it would kill. I didn’t quite understand why you had to kill Endelman. Perhaps it was because he made you suffer and had to be punished. We mustn’t forget your vindictiveness, must we?’

  Josef was shaking his head, bemused. ‘Incredible,’ he said, contemptuously. ‘Absolutely incredible.’

  ‘We bugged your apartment,’ admitted Devgeny. ‘So I know what happened between you and your wife when you came back. It was easy to send her back, wasn’t it Josef? Nikolai has told the doctor all about his seduction and how difficult it seemed for the marriage to be consummated. It was cruel, Josef, convincing the poor girl it was her fault, when all the time it was you. She’ll always wear the guilt, Josef. And really the marriage was your experiment, just like those that Nikolai made. An attempt to he normal tha
t went very wrong for you.’

  ‘You’re insane,’ judged Josef, finding the proper rejection difficult.

  ‘Was it hard, Josef, to walk away from that party in New York? You went too far that time, letting Nikolai get out with that young American, didn’t you? If you made one mistake and let control get away, that was the moment. But once you got to that party, you wanted to stay, didn’t you? You wanted to join in, like everyone else. You’ll give in one day, you know, Josef.’

  The negotiator felt the onset of that hollow feeling.

  ‘All the facts fit, don’t they Josef? First Medev, then Nikolai, then Endelman. Every time you encounter someone with unnatural sexual tendencies, you have to react. It’s a danger, so it has to be eradicated. I know it’s your weakness, Josef. So I’ve won. Whenever I want to, I can use it. I can create the situations and expose you to the temptations and then wait until you finally give in and destroy yourself. And you’d have to kill yourself if you ever gave in, wouldn’t you Josef?’

  ‘You’re deranged, Devgeny,’ said Josef, easily. ‘I shall produce this recording. I’ll make it available to the committee, both as an example of your involvement with Illinivitch and of your insanity.’

  He stood up, shutting off the machine and snapping the briefcase shut. He paused, once more, gazing down at the Minister and shaking his head, a pitying movement. Then he turned and moved to the door.

  ‘He’s dead, Josef,’ called Devgeny.

  The negotiator hesitated, then stopped. ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘Medev, the man you loved. And who loved you. He died in the punishment block, where he was sentenced after the suicide attempt you set up. He went quite mad in the end. The only lucid thing was his hatred for you. They treated him very badly in the punishment section. You know the sort of things they do there. And he blamed you for it. It was the only thing he said before he died …’

  Devgeny paused, then said, ‘Listen Josef.’

  From the drawer he had indicated earlier, Devgeny produced a tape just like that which Josef had used before the inquiry. It was an old, scratchy recording. Devgeny turned the volume up, filling the room with noise. It wasn’t human, decided Josef. No man could sound like that. It was an animal, a terrified animal, snared in a trap and screaming its agony. Then he caught it, indistinct at first and then clearer, over and over again.

 

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