‘I haven’t been here long,’ said Alexander, ‘but it seems promising.’

‘I’m glad you think that. We’ve had a lot of trouble with it, you know. I suggested we might try another by the same author; it seems there’s one about a Danish aristocrat who goes mad and thinks he sees a ghost which tells him to murder his uncle. More straightforward than this, I’d have thought, but the director, that young fellow there, he assures me there’s no time to make a fresh start now, it’s this or nothing. Well… It’s so hard to understand the characters and to make out what one’s meant to think of them. A young man meets a girl at a party and feels her up in public, in front of her parents, in fact. We all know such things happen, but then instead of having an affair with her he marries her, and after only one night together he suicides when he thinks she’s dead – very flimsy, that part – and she suicides when she finds him dead, and the author makes no attempt at all to explain why; I mean they’re not insane or anything like that. I expect I’m trying to take it too literally, and that part’s meant to be a symbol of a couple completely going off each other when. they’ve been powerfully attracted only a few days before, but one can’t tell the audience that. Still, there’s a certain amount of violence which we can play up, and the costumes and sets are going to be spectacular; I’m sure the thing will go down well enough. It’s the occasion that matters. Well, you didn’t come here to listen to me chattering about an old play. Allow me to welcome you to Group 31, Mr Petrovsky.’

‘Thank you, Mr Sevadjian, but is it wise to do so in a place like this?’

‘The answer to your commendably cautious question is Yes. One couldn’t say the same for the dressing-rooms and offices. The reasoning of the Directorate is almost pitifully transparent: what audiences do is listen, not talk. All the same, I suggest we pay attention to events on stage from time to time.’

They watched while the girl read aloud, stumbling frequently,

‘Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but “ay”

And that bare vowel “ay” shall poison more

Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.

I am not I if there be such an “ay”,

Or those eyes shut that make thee answer “ay”.

Sevadjian chuckled appreciatively. ‘I must say the comic parts still have their charm. Now to business. Our committee has discussed your access to Mrs Korotchenko. Members were very dubious till I pointed out that, even assuming Theodore here is under suspicion, up to the time she, er, made her approach to you the only contact you and he had had was at the races, at a game of croquet and at a dinner-party, with others present at all times on all three occasions. So unless the enemy has enough dedicated women to fuck everybody who gets within twenty metres of any of our workers, her motives would seem to have been innocent, if that isn’t too strange a word. We therefore proceed. Your instructions are to strike for nothing less than a list of all the undercover agents of the Directorate in the district, but you must continue not to reveal in any way whatever that you work for any kind of resistance movement, even a one-man one -it was felt that the risk of an anonymous tip-off was too great.’

‘Why? Why would she do that?’

‘A dozen reasons. To protect herself. To dispose of you when a successor appears. To get her own back after a quarrel. Or some other motive that’s unpredictable. She’s an impetuous lady. I can’t for a moment imagine how you’re going to persuade her to get you that list without telling her something, but perhaps you can.

‘I can indeed. A reason tailor-made for her psychology.’

‘I’m quite happy to leave you to handle it in your own way. When are you seeing her again?’

‘Not for ten days. She wouldn’t say why but she was quite firm.’

‘How annoying of her.’

‘It’ll be worse than annoying if she keeps us waiting another couple of weeks after that.’

‘There’d still be time. You must exercise your powers of fascination,’ said Sevadjian, and turned towards the stage.

‘O serpent heart [read the girl], hid with a flowering face!

Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?

Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!

Dove-feathered raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!

Despised substance of divinest show!

Just opposite to what thou justly seem’st.

A damned saint, an honourable villain!’

Sevadjian, who had been listening closely, frowned, sighed, and shook his dark head. ‘The text must be corrupt – surely it’s a damned villain, an honourable saint,’ he muttered, making nine syllables of it, as the girl had done. Then he turned to Alexander again. ‘Your father is greatly respected in the district. From my small personal knowledge he seems at any rate a humane man. How do you see him?’

‘He’s so humane -’

‘Lower your voice.’

‘I’m sorry. He’s so humane he’d protect the rights of a mad dog. He has it both ways in perpetuity: tilting at the system while getting all he can out of it and working to keep it in being, sympathising with the English and having Director Vanag to dinner. I despise him.’

‘Am Ito gather from that that you would have no objection to personally arresting your father when the time comes? It was felt that there would be a certain symbolic value.’

‘I’d sooner shoot him, I think.’ Alexander blurted this out, stopped, and went on in a normal tone, ‘I’m quite prepared to arrest him, yes.’

‘We intend to keep our operation as bloodless as possible.’ With these words there came an abrupt change in Sevadjian’s manner, which had been severely practical with an occasional jocoseness. Now, he turned in his seat so as to face Alexander squarely and fixed his remarkable eyes on him. ‘I wonder if you feel as I and some others do about our movement, a sense of inestimable privilege at being able to take part in a great historical transfiguration; I hope you feel that. And it’s more than taking part, it’s directing, shaping, building. When we have finished our work, the world will never be the same again. In the end our names will be forgotten, but we’ll have left our mark on events for as long as human society lasts. Our monument will be in men’s minds. By liberating others we’ll have liberated ourselves and all who come after us. I imagine the same thoughts, the same consciousness of purpose, uplifted our great predecessors in Petrograd as the autumn of 1917 advanced. Our task is to restore that revolution. And we shan’t fail.’

What most struck Alexander about this speech was not so much its entire conviction nor even its top-speed, word-perfect delivery as its low volume and the almost total lack of gestures accompanying it. To anyone more than a couple of metres away and not directly in his line of sight Sevadjian might have seemed to be further expounding, not uncritically, the plot of the play in rehearsal. For some reason this increased the difficulty of devising an answer to what he had said. Alexander could find no words that were quite free of the risk of sounding frivolous and contented himself with nodding earnestly.

For the first time, he started to believe that what he had taken for an amusing fantasy was going to be tried and might succeed. And if it did succeed and he had had no part in it, then from being an officer in the Guards he would presumably become some sort of prisoner, even though not for long, perhaps. On the other hand, he was pretty certain to have a far worse time if he joined in and it failed. But in that event would he not be considered to have joined in already? It would do him no good to plead that he had not actually done anything yet, and advanced techniques of interrogation left no chance whatever of his name not becoming immediately known to the Directorate. If only he had considered earlier, not whether or not the confounded scheme would succeed, but that it was becoming more and more certain to be tried!

The sensible course was to return to quarters, change into standard dress and pay a call on Vanag – returned from Moscow the previous day. It was also out of the question. Alexander affirmed to himself that he was proof against all moral compunction; what he could not abide was being seen to be the sort of person who did that sort of thing. And how desirable, how necessary, how bloody marvellous to be the hero of a successful revolution! Because on the strength of that list and those projectiles…

Sevadjian wished him luck, shook hands and was gone. Speaking for the first time since the moment of his arrival – he was good at staying silent – Theodore said,

‘Isn’t he magnificent?’

‘Most impressive. Is he the leader?’

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