‘I am here on official police business!’
‘Then why did they send my brother-in-law?’
Ilya lowered his voice. ‘Don’t you understand that it would be much worse for you if someone else had come?’
This looked like bad trouble. Volodya struggled to keep up the facade of bravado. ‘Exactly what do you and these other assholes want?’
‘Comrade Beria has taken over the direction of the nuclear physics programme.’
Volodya knew that. Stalin had set up a new committee to direct the work and made Beria chairman. Beria knew nothing about physics and was completely unqualified to organize a scientific research project. But Stalin trusted him. It was the usual problem of Soviet government: incompetent but loyal people were promoted into jobs they could not cope with.
Volodya said: ‘And Comrade Beria needs my wife in her laboratory, developing the bomb. Have you come to drive her to work?’
‘The Americans created their nuclear bomb before the Soviets.’
‘Indeed. Could they perhaps have given research physics higher priority than we did?’
‘It is not possible that capitalist science should be superior to Communist science!’
‘This is a truism.’ Volodya was puzzled. Where was this heading? ‘So what do you conclude?’
‘There must have been sabotage.’
That was exactly the kind of ludicrous fantasy the secret police would dream up. ‘What kind of sabotage?’
‘Some of the scientists deliberately delayed the development of the Soviet bomb.’
Volodya began to understand, and he felt afraid. But he continued to respond belligerently: it was always a mistake to show weakness with these people. ‘Why the hell would they do that?’
‘Because they are traitors – and your wife is one!’
‘You’d better not be serious, you piece of shit.’
‘I am here to arrest your wife.’
‘What?’ Volodya was flabbergasted. ‘This is insane!’
‘It is the view of my organization.’
‘There is no evidence.’
‘For evidence, go to Hiroshima!’
Zoya spoke for the first time since she had screamed. ‘I’ll have to go with them, Volodya. Don’t get yourself arrested too.’
Volodya pointed a finger at Ilya. ‘You are in so much fucking trouble.’
‘I’m carrying out my orders.’
‘Step out of the way. My wife is going into the bedroom to get dressed.’
‘No time for that,’ said Ilya. ‘She must come as she is.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
Ilya put his nose in the air. ‘A respectable Soviet citizen would not walk around the apartment with no clothes on.’
Volodya wondered briefly how his sister felt being married to this creep. ‘You, the secret police, morally disapprove of nudity?’
‘Her nakedness is evidence of her degradation. We will take her as she is.’
‘No you fucking won’t.’
‘Stand aside.’
‘You stand aside. She’s going to get dressed.’ Volodya stepped into the hall and stood in front of the three agents, holding his arms out so that Zoya could pass behind him.
As she moved, Ilya reached past Volodya and grabbed her arm.
Volodya punched him in the face, twice. Ilya cried out and staggered back. The two men in leather coats stepped forward. Volodya aimed a punch at one, but the man dodged it. Then each man took one of Volodya’s arms. He struggled, but they were strong and seemed to have done this before. They slammed him against the wall.
While they held him, Ilya punched him in the face with leather-gloved fists, twice, three times, four, then in the stomach, again and again until Volodya puked blood. Zoya tried to intervene, but Ilya punched her, too, and she screamed and fell back.
Volodya’s bathrobe came open in front. Ilya kicked him in the balls, then kicked his knees. Volodya sagged, unable to stand, but the two men in leather coats held him up, and Ilya punched him some more.
At last Ilya turned away, rubbing his knuckles. The other two released Volodya, and he crumpled to the floor. He could hardly breathe and felt unable to move, but he was conscious. Out of the
