Part 27 (1/2)
While they walked through the fourth-floor corridors, he kept his eyes fastened on her. Anna didn't return his gaze. Bulyagkov opened the door of his room, and together they walked over to the window to watch Riga wake up. The hotel stood opposite the National Opera House, and behind that was the park with the Lenin monument.
”If you'd told me yesterday I'd be seeing all this today, I would have laughed at you.”
”It's a lovely city,” he said. ”I've always liked it.”
He fell suddenly silent, whereupon she said, ”Anton begged me to do this. He wants to warn you.”
”Why didn't Anton come himself?”
”He tried to. He ...”
After the hours she'd spent conjecturing how this meeting would go, Anna suddenly knew nothing more. The wolf was in the trap, the trappers were getting ready to come for him, and he was too tired and too old to slip away from them this time. She looked at his eyes and the purple rings around them, the sullen mouth, the bowed shoulders. She tried to look beyond all that and see the Ukrainian boy who loved mathematics beginning his university studies in science. It was of course necessary to stop Alexey from going through with his plan, but was it also right? Anna was indifferent to Kamarovsky's interests, but she wondered whether she herself was ready to play Judas. Her breath streamed in and out; she saw the morning light reflecting off the gla.s.s table and the reflection trembling on the wall. Medea let him go, Anna thought, and she knows him better than anyone. Who am I to play the part of fate? With a sigh, she realized it was no longer a question of that. She was only the messenger who was supposed to make it easier for him to lay down his arms.
”Are they already in the hotel?” He looked at his watch.
”I don't know.” The light hurt her eyes, and she drew the curtain partly closed. ”They've got Rosa.”
His weary face twisted into a sad smile. ”I see.” Bulyagkov slowly ran his fingers through his hair. ”I'm not going to get to Stockholm. Is that right?”
Anna saw no possibility of crossing the ten feet that separated them, taking his hand, and giving him an answer that would make his situation look good. On the morning of the execution, it was hard to say anything encouraging to the condemned. Alexey had put himself on a cliff from which there was no climbing down, only plummeting.
”What do you want to know?” Asking this question, Bulyagkov seemed suddenly distant, as though he didn't wish to be disturbed while deciding on his next move.
”I want to know why you waited until you were practically about to leave before you started your divorce proceedings.”
”Are you asking me that as a woman or as an agent for internal security?”
”As an agent, I'm supposed to ask you for the briefcase,” Anna replied. ”They want you to turn it over to me.”
”And what am I offered in return?”
”Safe conduct home.”
He folded his arms in disdain. ”Either you or they are unclear about the use of pressure. Where's the advantage for me?”
”There isn't any.”
”So why should I consider accepting?”
”Because you're not a traitor.”
There was silence for a second. ”But they'll treat me like one.” He vented his frustration with a sharp gesture. ”My case is so hopeless that it'll be hard to find a lawyer to represent me.”
Anna touched the curtain: cheap material. ”The people you'll be dealing with are human,” she said, her face turned away from him.
He laughed. ”That's the negotiation strategy they told you to use? Humanity?”
”You're a Russian,” she countered.
”You know I'm not.”
”You belong to this country and this society. You're one of us. You don't belong in Stockholm, where they'll pay you and stick you in some hiding place. You think the dreams of your youth will come true there? It doesn't happen like that! Whether as a traitor or a minor criminal, you won't be young again. But you're still the Deputy Minister for Soviet Research Planning. That's your fate, and no one can save you from it.”
”Apparently, someone will, and pretty soon.” He put a hand over his eyes, as though suddenly exhausted.
”That's the consequence of what you've done, but it's not the end.”
He looked at her furiously. ”What do you know about the end, you with your twenty-nine years?” He went into the bathroom without waiting for an answer. She could hear running water.
”Do you want to drag Medea into all this? And Lyus.h.i.+n?”
He dried his hands. ”You're concerned about Lyus.h.i.+n, a man who's never out for anyone but himself? The die is cast.” His expression changed into a sad smile. ”In love and on the run, there are always two possibilities.”
”Do you think so?”
”Do you remember the little package that was delivered to me that afternoon?”
”You mean the one Rosa brought you?”
”They've instructed you well.” He nodded. ”The package contains a gift.”
”For whom?”
”For the captain of the transport s.h.i.+p that's sailing from Riga today. Stockholm can be reached by sea, too.”
”What would that change?”
”I'm still interested in living, you see.” He went to the window again. ”Going back means death.”
”How do you know that?” Impulsively, she stepped in front of him.
”Well, what does Kamarovsky have in view, then? Privileged treatment in a labor camp?”
”Why do you keep asking what others will do for you? What have you done for us?”
”Oh, Anna.” As though to distinguish her, he laid his hand on her shoulder. ”You're the best thing that could have happened to Kamarovsky. You're someone who's calculating and idealistic at the same time. It's quite a stunning combination.”
”I'm someone who loves you.” She didn't budge.
”I love you, too.” He compelled himself to be sober. ”But did you really come here with the intention of talking me into giving myself up?”
Some seconds pa.s.sed. ”We've told a lot of lies in all these months. And nevertheless, we've stayed together. We've done each other good. I came here today to make an end of lying.”