Part 4 (1/2)
”Which of them is Petya?”
”I didn't bring him,” Anna replied in surprise. ”I thought you said-”
”Oh, right. You shouldn't have taken that so seriously.” Rosa took her arm. ”My girlfriend has two of these little monsters. When they're around, there's no way to have a rational conversation with her.”
While Rosa chatted, Anna wondered why someone like Rosa Khleb would want to be friends with her. What could she tell a journalist about? There was nothing special about her life; every day, she stood on her scaffolding, painted walls, hurried home, cooked meals for her father, son, and husband, if he was there, and got a little fatter, because she couldn't pay attention to her figure. What was so interesting about Anna that Rosa devoted so much time to her?
When the two reached the triple-spiral staircase, like a colossal braid linking the upper and lower levels of the park, Rosa stood still. ”That can't be ...” she said. She took a lateral step, and Anna followed her eyes to the profile of a gentleman in his fifties who was sitting at a table and drinking lemonade. Long after this meeting, it would occur to Anna that all the tables around him had been empty.
”Do you know him?”
”My teacher.” Rosa had lowered her voice, as if she didn't want to disturb the lemonade drinker. ”He hardly ever comes to Moscow.”
”Don't you want to say h.e.l.lo to him?”
”Not now. We have an appointment later.”
Rosa wanted to go on, but Anna held her back. ”Go ahead, we've got lots of time.”
”Kamarovsky doesn't like surprises.”
It was the first time that Anna had heard this name. In her memory, it seemed to her that she herself, not Rosa Khleb, had instigated the meeting. ”Go tell him h.e.l.lo.” She'd led her friend into the park cafe and over to the man, who'd looked up only when the two women were standing in front of him.
”Rosa.” He hadn't seemed surprised in the least. Sparks flashed from his eyes; the lenses of the gla.s.ses he was wearing had been ground and polished repeatedly.
To Anna's amazement, Rosa didn't explain that they had been walking there merely by chance. Instead, she took a seat next to him. ”This is Anna,” she said.
He gestured toward the chair across from him. Anna sat down and introduced herself with her full name. She'd expected that student and teacher would have things to talk to each other about, but he appeared to be interested only in Anna. ”I take it you're married,” he said.
She wore no ring; was it so easy to spot her as a wife?
”Anna has a five-year-old son,” Rosa interjected.
”So he'll start going to school this autumn.”
Anna acknowledged the truth of this observation and answered further questions, all of them courteously posed; and yet she found that Kamarovsky's behavior went beyond a stranger's common curiosity. ”You were Rosa's teacher?” she asked.
”Is that what she says?” His glinting gla.s.ses hid his eyes.
Anna wondered whether the man had been Rosa's mentor in journalism school or at the newspaper. She said, ”I don't know anything about the newspaper business.”
”And what do you know something about, Comrade?”
”Lime,” she replied. ”Emulsion paint. Oil paint. I'm pretty familiar with undercoat plaster and finis.h.i.+ng plaster, and I even know how to do marbling.”
”Have you seen the big hall in the Ostankino, which has just been reopened?”
”Only in photographs. I've never been there.”
”During the restoration, it was discovered that the painters who decorated the hall a long time ago had used an unknown binder, and their pigments were considerably brighter than the ones used today. The chemical composition of the old pigments was studied in the laboratory, and they were found to include linseed oil, aluminum oxide ... and animal urine.” Kamarovsky nodded, as though he'd delivered some significant news.
”Are you an art historian?”
”In a former life. What else occupies your time, Anna?” His tone of voice had grown warmer. ”What does your husband do?”
”He's a first lieutenant in the army.”
”Stationed in Moscow?”
Anna named Leonid's unit and said where it was based.
”And you live with him and your little boy?”
”We live with my father.”
”Right.” Kamarovsky emptied his gla.s.s. ”Your father is Viktor Ipalyevich Tsazukhin.”
Anna's blood had shot into her cheeks. All at once, it was clear to her: This was an arranged meeting. She and Rosa had not just happened to pick Arkhangelskoye Park, had not randomly chosen the path to the steps; the man in the dark green suit wasn't sitting here in the sun for no reason; and above all, he was more than a teacher.
In the same soft voice as before, he'd asked, ”Does your father know you're committing adultery?” And when Anna made no reply, he added: ”You allow yourself to be seduced by the Deputy Minister for Research Planning.”
”No, I seduce him, comrade,” she'd said. She didn't know where such cheekiness came from; she knew only that she didn't want to be interrogated anymore. The interrogator made a sign, and the waiter hurried over to their table.
”Lemonade?” Kamarovsky inquired, as though Anna had pa.s.sed the first test. A couple who'd been strolling around the terrace tried to sit at the next table, only to be told that it was reserved. Anna gradually realized that Rosa had maneuvered her onto an island. She tried to look into Rosa's eyes, but they remained impenetrable.
”Why have you gotten involved with Bulyagkov?” Kamarovsky had asked. ”Is it his position? Do you hope to obtain privileges through him?”
”No.”
”It can hardly be his charm.”
”I got involved with him because he asked nothing of me.”
”Alexey Maximovich is in the public eye. Special security precautions are taken for him, measures intended to preserve his personal safety as well as his reputation.” The waiter brought Anna's drink, and Kamarovsky paused.
”May I ask who you are?”
”We'll get to that later.” He invited her to taste her drink. ”Does your husband have any inkling of your relations.h.i.+p?”
”No.”
”Then can you explain why he chooses to spend his nights with his unit, even though maneuvers came to an end some time ago?”
Anna had certainly noticed that Leonid wasn't coming home three or four nights a week. She'd consoled herself with the thought that comrades.h.i.+p had always been important to him.
”Leonid is either too proud or too cowardly to talk to you about all this,” Kamarovsky said pointedly.
She hadn't mentioned Leonid's name, so she a.s.sumed the man in the green suit must know him. ”Have you spoken with Leonid?”
”We won't intrude upon your married life unless it becomes necessary to do so. What we're interested in is the Deputy Minister's reputation.”