“What was Famous Saying Number One?”
“Ah yes—Famous Saying Number One—I quote—We represent in ourselves organised terror. This must be said very clearly—unquote.”
“Do people really see Lensky as some sort of traitor?”
She frowned. “Let’s say they never really understood him. So for the likes of Petrenko and Noskov he was a bit of a mystery. The rank and file don’t understand or like any kind of mystery. But Lensky had that final insurance policy—direct access to Khrushchev. Nikita trusted him because he never wanted anything. Asked no favours, sought no privileges. Pretty rare stuff these days, comrade.”
“Why did you come here to tell me this?”
“I didn’t come. I was sent. To smooth the way. To apologise without apologising. My grandmother used to say—‘Spots on the character can be removed—with a little gold.’ ”
Aarons smiled. “Was your grandmother Jewish?”
“No. She just borrowed their wisdom.”
“Do I really have to stay here all night?”
“Yes. Once the wheels have started turning they just have to grind away.” She paused. “How long since you’ve had real piroshkys and kluykva?”
“Piroshkys I often get—what are kluykva—they’re some kind of fruit, aren’t they?”
“Cranberry. I’ll arrange for you to get a good meal and a bottle of wine.”
“The wine would be wasted but I’d be glad of something to eat.”
She nodded. “About an hour. I’ll be back.”
It was nearer two hours when she came back with a young guard, two trolleys and a chair. When the guard had left she sat down facing him across one of the trolleys.
She pointed. “Help yourself. The meat is Siberian deer or wild boar, there’s quail’s eggs and several different breads. Mineral water and orange juice for you and a glass of genuine Tokay for me.”
They ate more or less in silence but when later they picked at a bunch of seedless grapes she said, “You know part of what annoys people like Noskov and Peretsky is that you’re so American. Just like a lot of people don’t like Lensky because he was so European. The Viennese charm and the French logic.”
“Did you know him well?”
“Over the last four or five years I saw him most days.”
“Did you like him?”
“I loved him but it was a waste of time.” She smiled. “Not just the vast difference in age but he saw us all as children. Young men were sons and young girls were daughters. But he had a good eye for those who were going to be useful to the Party some day.” She smiled. “It was Lensky who spotted you, wasn’t it?”
“I guess it was. When did you learn your good English?”
“Moscow University and then four years in Australia and two in Canada. Ciphers and then cultural attaché.” She paused. “You left Moscow when you were just a kid, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re completely American.”
“Me?” He frowned in disbelief. “How do you make that out?”
“You look healthy. You’re in jail but you look confident that you’ll soon be out. You’re sure of yourself. You don’t give a shit for the likes of Noskov and Peretsky.” She wagged a finger at him. “And that, Comrade Colonel, is a big mistake.”
“Tell me why?”
“Because in this city when you get shoved in jail you’re scared. You offer bribes. Cash, goods or favours.”
“Even colonels in the KGB?”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean a thing when the chips are on the table. Especially with guys like you who get made up to colonels to make you feel important. If you get thrown into this place you don’t behave like your attorney’s coming along and you ain’t answering questions till he gets here. Because he ain’t ever coming. If you were going to get a lawyer you’d be in the Public Prosecutor’s Office, not here.”
“Interesting. If they suspect me of being a defector why the hell do they think I came here? And why don’t they just talk? Why all this schoolboy scenario?”
“They can’t help it. They’ve been doing it so long it gets to be a habit.” She smiled. “I’ve got some good news for you.”
“Tell me.”
“They’ll be taking you to a very nice dacha in Peredelkino tomorrow morning. Red carpet.” She shrugged. “Red everything. That stuff you brought over for Beletsky and Denikin must have been something very special.” She looked at her watch and pointed at the trolleys. “They can clean those away tomorrow morning. Have a good sleep.”
“Thanks for the food. And thanks for your help.”
For long moments she stood looking at Aarons and then she said, “You’re welcome,” and she walked to the door and let herself out. He heard her say something to the guard outside before he heard the key turn in the lock.
He pushed the trolleys away from the concrete slab that was to be his bed, undressed slowly and covered himself with the two blankets, his jacket folded under his head for a pillow.
He wondered how much of what the girl had said was true. She seemed unusually frank in her views and she must have been aware of the near certainty that any conversation in the cells was recorded. The building housed the control centre of an intelligence organisation that covered the whole world. And a separate security force that policed every living soul in every state of the Soviet Union. And yet they could suspect poor Lensky of being a traitor because in his seventies he needed a rest from the world of revolution. And he could be suspect too by association. And if he had been a traitor then the crude amateurish approach of Noskov and Peretsky was not likely to unmask him. He could remember Lensky saying that Moscow Centre could never really bring themselves to trust even a Soviet who lived outside the Soviet Union. Something that stuck in his mind was how they knew that Lensky had contacted him in New York. Knowing Lensky
