The Secret Speech

— He’s alive!

— Not for long. Push him in. I’m getting cold.

He watched the man blink once more before kicking him off the edge of the ice into the river. There was a splash. The body rocked up and down before being taken away, downstream, into a wilderness where no one would ever see him again.

Still sitting on the ice, the guard studied the watch. Cheap and smashed, it was worthless. But something stopped him from tossing it into the water. Cracked glass or not, it seemed a shame to throw it away.

MOSCOW SAME DAY

ELENA ASKED:

— When is Zoya coming home?

Raisa replied:

— Soon.

— When I get back from the shops?

— No, not that soon.

— How soon?

— When Leo returns, he’ll bring Zoya with him. I can’t say when that will be, exactly, but it will be soon.

— You promise?

— Leo’s doing everything he can. We have to be patient for a little longer. Can you do that for me?

— If you promise that Zoya’s okay.

It was a promise Raisa had no choice but to make:

— I promise.

Elena asked the same questions every day. On each occasion it was as if she’d never asked them before. She wasn’t necessarily seeking new information, rather that she was attuned to the tone of the response, listening for minute variations. Any hint of impatience or irritation, any suggestion of doubt, and she’d slip back into the catatonic despondency which had struck her down immediately after Zoya’s capture. She’d refused to leave her room, crying until she was unable to cry anymore. Leo had refused the doctor’s instructions that she be sedated, sitting with her every night, hour after hour. Only when Raisa had returned from hospital did Elena begin to improve. The most dramatic progress had occurred when Leo left Moscow, and not because she wanted him gone: it was the first concrete evidence that action was being taken to bring Zoya back. Her mind easily digested the concept that when Leo returned Zoya would return with him. Elena didn’t need to know where her sister was, or what she was doing, just that she was coming home, and coming home soon.

Leo’s parents were waiting by the front door. Still weak from her injuries, Raisa depended upon their help. They’d moved into the gated ministerial complex, cooking and cleaning, creating a sense of domestic normality. Ready to leave, Elena paused:

— Can’t you come with us? We’ll walk very slowly.

Raisa smiled:

— I’m not feeling strong enough. Give me a day or two, then we’ll go out together.

— With Zoya? We can go to the zoo. Zoya liked that. She pretended that she didn’t but I know she did. It was her secret. I’d like Leo to come too. And Anna, and Stepan.

— We’ll all go.

Elena smiled as she shut the door, the first smile that Raisa had seen from her in a long time.

Alone, Raisa lay down on Zoya’s bed. She’d moved into the girls’ room. Elena would fall asleep only when she was by her side. Security had been increased at the ministerial complex, as it had across the city. Agents, retired and active, were reviewing their living arrangements, putting additional locks on the door, bars on windows. Though the State had tried to stop the release of information, there had been too many murders for rumors not to circulate. Everyone who’d ever denounced their friend or colleague took additional precautions. The profiteers of fear were afraid exactly as Fraera had promised.

* * *

RAISA OPENED HER EYES, unsure how long she’d been asleep. Though she was facing the wall and unable to see behind her, she was certain that there was someone else in the room. Turning onto her back and lifting her head, she saw the outline of an officer in the doorway, an androgynous silhouette. There was a dreamlike quality to the experience. Raisa felt no fear or surprise. This was their first encounter and yet there was a peculiar familiarity between them, an immediate intimacy.

Fraera took off her cap, revealing cropped hair. She stepped into the room, remarking:

— You can scream. Or we can talk.

Raisa sat up:

— I’m not going to scream.

— No, I didn’t think so.

Raisa had heard that tone many times: as a man might patronize a woman, peculiar from the lips of another woman only a couple of years her elder. Fraera noticed her irritation:

— Don’t be offended. I had to be sure. It hasn’t been easy, getting in to see you. I’ve tried many times. It would be a shame to cut this visit short.

Fraera sat on the opposite bed, Elena’s bed — her back against the wall, her legs crossed, unbuttoning her uniform jacket. Raisa asked:

— Is Zoya safe?

— She’s safe.

— Unharmed?

— Yes.

Raisa had no reason to believe her. Yet she did.

Fraera picked up Elena’s pillow, squeezing it, in no particular rush:

— This is a nice room, filled with nice things for two nice girls, given to them by two nice parents. How many nice things does it take to compensate for a murdered mother and father? How soft do the sheets have to be for a child to forgive that crime?

— We’ve never tried to buy their affections.

— Hard to believe, looking around.

Raisa struggled to control her anger:

— Would we have been more of a family if we’d bought them nothing?

— But you’re not a family. Sure, if someone didn’t know the truth they might mistake you for a family. I wonder if that was what Leo had in mind: the illusion of normality. It wouldn’t be real, he’d know that, but he could enjoy it, reflected in other people’s eyes. Leo is good at believing in lies. That would make the girls little more than props, dressed up in pretty outfits, so he can play at being a father.

— The girls were in an orphanage. We offered them a choice.

— A choice between sickness, impoverishment, and malnutrition, or living with the man who murdered their parents… that’s not much of a choice.

Raisa paused, uncertain, unable to disagree:

— Neither Leo nor I were ever under the impression that the adoption would be straightforward.

— You didn’t correct me when I said the man who murdered their parents. I expected you to say: Leo didn’t shoot them. He tried to save them. He was a good man among bad. But you don’t believe that, do you?

— He was an MGB officer. He’s done terrible things.