bureau. Kovchenko really had it in for you. He said: 'Shtrum doesn't want to be a part of our collective.''
'Well,' said Viktor, 'that's that.' He felt one of his eyelids beginning to twitch.
While they were discussing the photographs, Viktor got the feeling that it was now Markov who was in charge of the laboratory. He had the calm voice of someone who is in control; Nozdrin twice came up to him to ask questions about the equipment.
Then Markov's face took on a look of pathetic entreaty.
'Viktor Pavlovich, if you say anything about this Party meeting, please don't mention my name. I'll be accused of revealing Party secrets.'
'Of course not.'
'It's just a storm in a teacup.'
'I don't know,' said Viktor. 'You'll get by without me. And the ambiguities surrounding the operation of psi are quite impossible.'
'I think you're wrong,' said Markov. 'I was talking to Kochkurov yesterday. You know what he's like – he's certainly got his feet on the ground. Well he said, 'I know Shtrum's mathematics have overtaken his physics, but somehow I find his work very illuminating, I don't know why.''
Viktor understood what Markov was saying. Young Kochkurov was particularly interested in the action of slow neutrons on the nuclei of heavy atoms. In his view, work in this area had great practical possibilities.
'It's not the Kochkurovs of this world who decide things,' said Viktor. 'The people who matter are the Badins – and he wants me to repent of leading physicists into Talmudic abstraction.'
Everyone in the laboratory seemed to know about yesterday's meeting and Viktor's conflict with the authorities. Anna Stepanovna kept giving Viktor sympathetic looks.
Viktor wanted to talk to Sokolov, but he had gone to the Academy in the morning and then rung up to say that he'd been delayed and probably wouldn't return that day.
Savostyanov, for some reason, was in an excellent mood.
'Viktor Pavlovich,' he said, 'y°u have before you the esteemed Gurevich – a brilliant and outstanding scientist.' He put his hands on his head and stomach to denote Gurevich's bald head and pot belly.
On his way home in the evening, Viktor suddenly met Marya Ivanovna on Kaluga Street. She saw him first and called out his name. She was wearing a coat he hadn't seen before and he took a moment to recognize her.
'How extraordinary!' he said. 'What's brought you to Kaluga Street?'
For a moment she just looked at him in silence. Then she shook her head and said: 'It's not a coincidence. I wanted to see you – that's all.'
Viktor didn't know what to say. For a moment his heart seemed to stop beating. He thought she was going to say something terrible, to warn him of some danger.
'Viktor Pavlovich, I just wanted a word with you. Pyotr Lavrentyevich has told me what happened.'
'You mean my latest success,' said Viktor.
They were walking side by side – but in silence, almost as though they didn't know one another. Viktor again felt embarrassed. He looked at Marya Ivanovna out of the corner of one eye and said: 'Lyudmila's very angry with me. I suppose you feel the same.'
'Not at all,' she said. 'I know what compelled you to act in that way.'
Viktor gave her a quick look.
'You were thinking of your mother.'
He nodded.
'Pyotr Lavrentyevich didn't want to tell you… He's heard that the Party organization and the Institute authorities have really got it in for you… Apparently Badin said: 'It's not just a case of hysteria. It's political hysteria, anti- Soviet hysteria.' '
'So that's what's the matter with me,' said Viktor. 'Yes, I thought that Pyotr Lavrentyevich was keeping something back.'
'Yes. That upset me very much.'
'Is he afraid?'
'Yes. And he considers you to be in the wrong.
'Pyotr Lavrentyevich is a good man,' she added quietly. 'He's suffered a lot.'
'Yes,' said Viktor. 'And that's what's upsetting. Such an audacious, brilliant scientist – and such a cowardly soul.'
'He's suffered a lot,' repeated Marya Ivanovna.
'All the same, he should have told me.'
He took her arm. 'Listen, Marya Ivanovna, what is all this about Madyarov? I just don't understand.'
He was haunted by the thought of their conversations in Kazan. He kept remembering odd words, odd phrases, Karimov's alarming warning and Madyarov's own suspicions. He was afraid that his blatherings in Kazan would soon be added to what was already brewing in Moscow.
'I don't understand myself,' she replied. 'The registered letter we sent Leonid Sergeyevich was returned to us. Has he changed his address? Has he left Kazan? Has the worst happened?'
'Yes, yes,' muttered Viktor. For a moment he felt quite lost.
Marya Ivanovna obviously thought that her husband had told Viktor about the letter that had been returned. But Sokolov hadn't said a word. When Viktor had asked that question, he had been thinking of the quarrel between Madyarov and Pyotr Lavrentyevich.
'Let's go into the park,' he said.
'We're going in the wrong direction.'
'There's a way in off Kaluga Street.'
He wanted to know more about Madyarov, and to tell her of his and Karimov's suspicions of one another. The park would be empty; no one would disturb them there. Marya Ivanovna would understand the import of such a conversation. He would be able to talk freely and openly about everything that troubled him, and she would be equally frank.
A thaw had set in. On the slopes you could see damp rotting leaves peeping out from under the melting snow; in the gullies, however, the snow was still quite thick. The sky above was cloudy and sombre.
'What a beautiful evening,' said Viktor, breathing in the cool, damp air.
'Yes, and there isn't a soul around. It's like being in the country.'
They walked down the muddy paths. When they came to a puddle, he held out his hand and helped her across.
For a long time they didn't say a word. Viktor didn't want to talk about the war, the Institute, Madyarov, or any of his fears and premonitions. All he wanted was to keep on walking, without saying a word, beside this small woman with the light yet awkward step – and to prolong this feeling of lightness and peace that had suddenly come over him.
Marya Ivanovna didn't say a word. She just walked on beside him, her head slightly bowed.
They came out onto the quay. The river was covered with a layer of dark ice.
'I like this,' said Viktor.
'Yes,' she agreed, 'it's good.'
The asphalt path along the quay was quite dry and they walked more quickly, like travellers on a long journey. A wounded lieutenant and a stocky young girl in a ski-suit were coming towards them. They had their arms round one another and were stopping every now and then to kiss. As they passed Viktor and Marya Ivanovna, they kissed again, looked round and burst out laughing.
'Who knows?' thought Viktor. 'Perhaps Nadya came for a walk here with her lieutenant.'
Marya Ivanovna looked round at the young couple and said:
'How sad it all is.'
She smiled. 'Lyudmila Nikolaevna told me about Nadya.'
'Yes, yes,' said Viktor. 'It is all very strange.'
Then he added:
'I've decided to phone the director of the Electro-Mechanical Institute and offer my services. If they don't accept me, I'll have to go somewhere like Novosibirsk or Krasnoyarsk.'
'Yes, that's the best thing you can do,' she said. 'What can I say? You couldn't have acted any other way.'
