No one spoke and Adrian became aware of the slow, sticky tick of the grandfather clock near the beginning of the stairs. It sounds like an old man’s heart, he thought, weak and at any moment ready to stop bothering. He waited, expecting the noise to cease, but it went on, monotonously.
Bennovitch moved first, very slowly, raising his arms as he walked and then Pavel started forward and they fell into each other’s embrace, the traditional Russian greeting, kissing each other repeatedly on the cheek. Still they said nothing. Adrian saw both were crying.
Finally Pavel held the smaller man at arm’s length, studying him.
‘Alexandre,’ he mouthed, softly.
‘Viktor.’
They hugged each other again and then Bennovitch turned, leading the other man back into the beautiful room with its view of the garden. Pavel kept his arm around Bennovitch’s shoulders protectively, and neither seemed aware that Adrian had followed them into the room.
They went to a long couch drawn up before the open, dead fireplace, the hearth disguised by horse-chestnut branches cut from the grounds. Adrian edged into an armchair and sat, waiting.
Pavel spoke first and when he did it was in the dull monotone of the car ride to the airfield.
‘He wouldn’t tell me,’ he said, searching Bennovitch’s face as if the other man would have an explanation for the diplomat’s refusal. ‘I asked him, again and again, but he wouldn’t reply.’
Bennovitch sat motionless, his face ridged in puzzlement. This was not the man he knew, the autocratic, overbearing genius he’d left six weeks before in a massive Moscow laboratory where the technicians jumped at his very presence. This was not the Hero of the Soviet Union, the holder of more awards than any other Russian civilian, the man to whom the scientists of the world looked in awe.
This was a rambling old man.
Adrian thought Bennovitch looked disappointed and suddenly he recognized the parallel. He and Binns. Pavel and Bennovitch. Disappointment? Yes, certainly that, but there was more. Each — Binns in him perhaps, certainly Bennovitch in Pavel — had created an ideal, an image without any flaws.
But now the picture was blurred.
A man had become superman and there was no such thing. Men were just men and women were just women. He paused, thinking of Anita. Well, almost always.
Sir Jocelyn had realized it and now he stuttered when they met. Bennovitch was baffled and now he stared in disbelief.
Sad, decided Adrian. It was a pity people couldn’t keep the perfection they had imagined rather than having to accept reality. It was like shopping in a street market. People always expected a bargain and always got second best.
‘Viktor,’ tried Bennovitch. ‘What is it?’
Pavel looked at his assistant.
‘He wouldn’t tell me,’ he repeated, stupidly.
Adrian had wanted to remain outside their thoughts, hoping they wouldn’t even notice his presence. But now he realized that unless he prompted the conversation the two men would spend their meeting in near-silence.
‘Alexandre,’ he said, quietly, introducing himself almost. ‘Viktor met an official from your embassy last night.’
The uncertainty lifted from Bennovitch’s face and he turned to the other Russian.
‘You shouldn’t have done it, Viktor. You should have kept away.’
Pavel looked at him, the deadness slipping away from his face.
‘But Valentina. What about Valentina? And the children.’
Bennovitch nibbled at his fingers. ‘Do you think I haven’t considered that?’ he said.
Adrian relaxed, realizing the dam in the conversation had been breached.
‘When I left, it didn’t matter, because you were there and they wouldn’t consider any move. But now …’
Bennovitch stumbled to a halt, unable to express himself.
‘They’ll face trial,’ said Pavel, positively. ‘They’ll torture me, by proxy.’
‘And me.’
For a moment, there was silence. Then Bennovitch said, ‘My poor sister.’
‘My poor wife.’
‘Then why?’
The question burst from Bennovitch, suddenly freed from the hero worship and the restrictions under which he had worked for fifteen years. There was no anger from Pavel at the abrupt demand from his assistant.
‘I was wrong,’ he admitted. ‘Oh, I was so wrong.’ He stopped, gazing at the floor, embarrassed almost to meet the look of the other man.
‘I was worried about the experiments, about the Mars probe and the space platform. It was getting more and more restrictive. I was thinking of defecting months ago …’
He paused, smiling for the first time.
‘Funny,’ he said, ‘I told myself that if I went, then your position would protect Valentina and the children until I could get them out. But you went first from the Helsinki conference …’
Now it was the turn of Bennovitch to appear embarrassed, as if he owed an explanation.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘I never knew,’ said Pavel, in another aside, ‘I never guessed you were thinking of going over.’
Bennovitch grinned at him, glad they shared a secret. ‘Neither did I of you. And I thought I knew you so well.’
Pavel shrugged. ‘Anyway, once you’d gone, there was tremendous pressure. The whole department came under the most fantastic investigation I’ve ever known. It was far worse than anything that happened under Stalin. Everyone was checked and then checked again …’
He hesitated again. ‘God knows what it will be like now,’ he said.
He went on. ‘I was hauled before the inner committee …’
‘Kaganov?’ interrupted Bennovitch. There was fear etched into the question.
Pavel nodded. ‘I got the whole lecture. The demands for dossier files on all my staff, everything like that. I had to agree to the employment of two political commissars, actually in the laboratory. And then they told me that the budget would be cut back. I had proved politically unreliable and therefore the work had to come to a standstill until the department had cleared itself of any involvement.’
‘You?’ Bennovitch seemed incredulous. ‘They imposed restrictions on you?’
Pavel nodded. ‘Kaganov seemed to enjoy it. He even quoted a Western axiom to me. “No one is indispensable,” he told me. “Not even you.” ’
Bennovitch shook his head in disbelief and Pavel smiled at him.
‘You’ve no idea of the problems you caused. I was in complete turmoil. You, someone I loved like a brother, had defected. The work in the department was blocked for six months, maybe longer. I wasn’t thinking straight, I thought I was important, more important than I was. I convinced myself that once out, I could get the family out as well. Now I realize that isn’t possible.’
‘What did he say last night?’
Pavel didn’t reply immediately. He sat, recalling the conversation with the diplomat.
‘Just that I should come back. That I had disgraced the Soviet Union, but that they were prepared to forgive me and let me go back.’
‘Do you believe them?’
Pavel considered the question, then grimaced, without replying.
‘I wouldn’t see them,’ announced Bennovitch, as if the refusal indicated bravery. ‘The English were very fair, they said it was entirely my choice and I decided there was no point.’
Both men, who were speaking in Russian, appeared to have forgotten Adrian was in the room.
‘But I had to know,’ protested Pavel, picking up the familiar theme. ‘I had to try and find out what had happened to them.’
Silence settled again and Adrian was afraid they had reached another barrier. He sat, reluctant to intrude.