“Yes.”
“And six months later Maria Consuela Garcia resigns from the Party and marries a Mexican capitalist.”
Aarons smiled in disbelief. “And what’s that got to do with me?”
“That’s what we want to find out.”
“On what authority are you questioning me? Who authorised it?”
“It’s routine. When people defect we look at their contacts.” Petrenko shrugged. “Do you think that you’re too important to be questioned?”
Aarons hesitated for a moment and then he said, “Yes, too important to be questioned by you two. If the Directorate wants to question me then I want it to be a proper enquiry and authorised by somebody above my rank.” He paused. “You’d better pass the material in my bag to Beletsky or Denikin or you could find them raising questions about what authority you have for holding up urgent documentation.”
Noskov stood up and walked to a telephone on the far wall. He spoke too quietly for Aarons to hear what he said. When he turned to look at Aarons Noskov said, “We’ll see how you feel tomorrow.”
A KGB sergeant came in and Noskov pointed at Aarons. “That’s him.”
The sergeant walked over and grabbed Aarons’ hands, pulling them behind his back. As Aarons realised that the man was handcuffing him he turned to protest and the man’s fist hit him squarely in the face. He staggered back and felt the gush of warm blood from his nose and mouth, then the manacles clamped on his flesh. He was fleetingly aware of a look of triumph on Noskov’s face before the sergeant shoved him clumsily through the open door. They seemed to walk a long way down the corridor before he was stopped, a steel door unlocked and he was pushed inside. The manacles were unlocked and slid off then the door clanged to behind the sergeant.
Inside the cell, for that was plainly what it was, there was a concrete block covered by a straw palliasse with two grey blankets neatly folded at one end. The walls were of some metallic finish that Aarons realised was to ensure that messages or other information scrawled on them could be wiped away with just a damp cloth. There was no sound from outside, just the rushing sound inside his head.
He put his hand up to his mouth to wipe away the blood but it was caked on his lips and chin and his lips were too swollen and too painful to touch. He had always accepted that some day he might get caught but not with this scenario. At least he’d assumed that he would be caught by the other side, the FBI or the CIA. And he’d known exactly how he would react. He was a bookseller, a law-abiding citizen. They wouldn’t be able to prove a thing. But it had never entered his mind that the blow would fall from his own people. With such stupidity and with such an unlikely confrontation. Jakob Lensky, who for years had pushed his own judgement aside to serve the Party. They’d worn him out and when he finally had to take refuge in Israel he was suddenly a defector. And because he had been a kind of protégé of Lensky he was suspect too. Even that pretty Spanish girl was a traitor to the cause for marrying a rich foreigner. They were like monks in some ancient order who saw sin everywhere and treason in every relationship. He had heard about the fanaticism of some of them but surely the material he’d been sending them for years and the risks he had taken added up to more than guilt by association with a man who was guiltless anyway. Did they really think that having a thug punch him in the mouth would frighten him? Was this really what it was all about? Not a dream but a nightmare.
He wondered what Tania would think of it all. She wouldn’t be surprised. She never wanted to know what went on. He was like a man who had some secret vice, some furtive unmentionable hobby or pastime, tolerated but not shared.
He heard the rattle of keys on a ring and then the door opened and a woman walked in wearing a pale blue KGB woman officer’s uniform. She leaned back, arms folded, against the wall facing him. She wasn’t pretty but she was attractive. And she knew it.
“And how is Comrade Aarons? A little ruffled I hear.”
Aarons said nothing and the young woman smiled. “You don’t remember me?”
Instinctively he looked at her but she was right, he didn’t recognise her.
“When you first met Beletsky and Denikin. I was there. Glazkova. Aleksandra. I look after them. See that they don’t get into trouble. All they care about is that stuff you send them. Mathematics, cryptanalysis, computers.” She paused. “People like Noskov and Petrenko aren’t important. But they can cause a lot of trouble. They were always jealous of Lensky. He was rich and highly intelligent, he’d travelled outside the Soviet Union and he had Khrushchev’s ear. What was more he’d had Stalin’s ear before that.” She smiled. “He was covered either way. So they had to wait until he’d retired before they dare attack him.” She paused. “That bloody mouth of yours is his really. But don’t worry. Things will change tomorrow morning.”
“In what way?”
“Beletsky and Denikin are with Khrushchev right now. Telling him about the treasure trove you’ve brought over for them. And, of course, landing Yakov and the other two in the shit for what they did.”
“So why do I have to stay here until the morning?”
“Oh, come now, Comrade Aarons. You may be useful—but you aren’t important. What’s a thick lip and a night in the Lubyanka in the great tapestry of life.” She smiled. “You’ll get a state visit from the Deputy-director. Of course he won’t notice your cracked lip but he’ll apologise for a bureaucratic error and he’ll give you Famous Saying Number Two.”
“What’s that?”
“All Famous Sayings inside this building are by our
