He hurried to the bedroom, made his way in darkness to the dresser, pulled out the cash they had been saving, and brought it to Maya, who handed him the baby while she tucked away the money. He kissed the baby and his wife. She turned her cheek to him and left.
He sat for ten minutes before taking off his coat and hanging it up and then he sat again. There would be nothing on television at this hour. He had a newspaper but he had read it during the day. He couldn’t concentrate on a book. There was some cold coffee left. He heated it and drank a cup while he sat at the wooden table worrying, weary and feeling more than just a bit sorry for himself.
Maya did not call. She simply showed up back at the apartment three hours later, baby asleep in her embrace. Sasha had fallen into a restless sleep at the table with his head on his arms.
He looked up for answers, waiting for her to gently put the baby in bed.
“A virus,” she said. “Not diphtheria.”
There was a vast outbreak of diphtheria in Russia, and not only diphtheria. In Moscow alone more than a dozen people had died the year before of dysentery, an illness that could be easily cured. Measles was becoming a common occurrence.
“I have medicine. They gave him an injection. We’ll keep him cool. Give him medicine. The doctor will call in the morning. If he is worse, we’ll have to take him to a private hospital.”
There was no way they could afford a private hospital.
Sasha moved to take Maya in his arms. She didn’t stop him but neither did she respond. He expected her to cry but she was silent.
“I waited for you,” she said evenly. “Hours.”
“I told you,” he whispered, “kissing the top of her head. “Porfiry Petrovich asked for volunteers to put a heating system into a church.”
Sasha didn’t add that it was a Jewish “church.” He might tell her that later.
“Telephone,” she said. “You should have called. You should check on your family. I should know exactly where you are. You were needed. You didn’t want to come home.”
Since she was absolutely right, Sasha protested vigorously and sincerely. He apologized, explained, took the blame and responsibility, and promised this had been a lesson to him.
“Your mother called,” Maya went on. “I told her everything was fine. I couldn’t handle her and the children.”
“I understand,” said Sasha sincerely.
They opened the bed in the living room, leaving a small light on as they lay down and listened to the baby’s labored breathing.
They had two hours of semirest. Pulcharia roused them early asking for breakfast. Wearily they got up. The baby still slept. Maya felt his forehead.
“Cooler,” she said, “much cooler.”
Sasha smiled and Maya smiled back.
Maya had an appointment with Sarah Rostnikov’s cousin Leon for later that morning. Her plan was to take both the baby and Pulcharia with her. Maya called her office as soon as it was open and explained the situation. The secretary said that she understood and that Maya should, if possible, call back to let her know how the baby was doing. Unfortunately the new boss was not as understanding. He was a widower in his sixties who had never had any children. But he did have a roving eye and hands. More than once he had made overtures to Maya: a touch, coming too close behind her, a whispered comment whose intent was clear. Maya had managed to avoid all of this. Sasha knew nothing about it. Now her boss would have a small weapon to use against her. Maya decided to worry about that later. In the United States, she knew, there were laws about sexual harassment at work, but there was nothing like that in Russia. It was considered part of the business world and had been for centuries. Now there were even embarrassing shows in which young women seeking office jobs would get made up, put on revealing dresses, and perform onstage, singing songs, smiling, parading for men who might hire them as receptionists or even as computer technicians.
Now Sasha blinked and sipped his coffee to stay awake while he and Elena sat before the files, reluctant to begin.
Elena had gone through two files and Sasha one when Pankov called to inform them that there appeared to have been another attack the night before in District 37. He gave Elena, who had answered the phone, the number of the woman who had been attacked. He also made it clear that he had informed Inspector Rostnikov. Director Yakovlev, according to Pankov, was concerned that the story was about to get out to the media in general.
“And,” said Pankov nervously, “he would appreciate your putting in as much time and effort as necessary to bring this case to a satisfactory conclusion as quickly as possible.”
Pankov gave Elena the name and telephone number of the latest victim, Magda Stern. The name touched something in Elena’s memory.
“Magda Stern,” Pankov said, “is a reporter for Moscow Television News.”
Pankov hung up. Elena relayed the information to Sasha, who wearily reached for the next file with one hand and his cup of terrible, tepid coffee with the other.
“You or me?” he asked.
She understood and dialed the number Pankov had given her for Magda Stern. There was no answer. Elena hung up and found Moscow Television News in the phone directory. She made the call, identified herself, and asked for Magda Stern. She was put through almost immediately.
“I’m calling about the incident last night,” said Elena carefully while Sasha paused to listen. Elena identified herself as an inspector in the Office of Special Investigation.
“The attempted rape,” Magda Stern said.
“Yes,” said Elena. “We know you reported the incident and were interviewed by the police last night. We will have the report in the next few minutes. We take this very seriously and would like to talk to you. We would like to meet you at the station today.”
“No,” said Magda Stern firmly. “I will come to you. I would prefer, if at all possible, that people here know nothing about the incident.”
Elena immediately agreed, and the reporter said she would be on her way to Petrovka within half an hour.
Elena called both the guard station and the uniformed officer at the check-in desk in the lobby to ask that they admit Magda Stern and let her or Sasha know when she arrived.
And then back to the stacks.
When they were finished with their first run-through-they planned to switch files with each other and go through them again-the phone rang and Magda Stern’s arrival was announced. Elena asked if one of the National Police meeting rooms was available. The man in the lobby said he didn’t know; the room log was somewhere upstairs at the moment. So they would conduct the interview in their cubbyhole office. Fortunately Karpo, Iosef, and Zelach were all out, ensuring some degree of privacy.
The two inspectors gathered the green file folders and put them neatly into the empty bottom drawer of Sasha’s desk. Then they went downstairs. The lobby was crowded this morning. People, about two-thirds of them in uniform, moved about in clusters, talking softly as they passed the trio of watchful armed officers.
Magda Stern was easy to spot. She was taller than most of the men. And she was striking. Were she a bit younger, Elena thought, she might have a career as a model somewhere in Western Europe or even the United States. But there was a determined look on the woman’s face that told Elena she was probably not model material. It wasn’t just what had happened to her last night. The look was something Elena was sure had been with the woman for some time. She herself had a bit of it, and her aunt, before her illness, had had it, too.
The two detectives greeted the woman, who was wearing a green suit under her tan leather coat. Her hair was short, dark, nothing out of place. And she wore tinted glasses. She shook the detectives’ hands firmly and followed them up the stairs.
“The elevators are not particularly trustworthy,” Sasha explained.
Magda Stern did not respond. Elena noticed that the woman was wearing stylish red boots, probably from the Czech Republic or the West.
When they entered Sasha’s cubicle, he offered the woman coffee or tea. She refused with a gesture. They sat on the three chairs in the tiny space. Sasha moved his chair around to sit next to Elena and avoid the
