“Chemically aided farming is a fact of life,” Bormett argued, “hand in hand with genetic engineering. Using these advances, the United States has become the breadbasket of the world.”
The audience was utterly silent.
“Your operation, Mr. Bormett, is dependent totally upon Exxon and Standard Oil and other gigantic conglomerates. Your chemicals are petrochemicals. Your farming is based on oil, our dwindling resource. When the oil runs out, and your hybrids can no longer survive, then what will happen to us all, Mr. Bormett?”
The applause was thunderous once again, and for the next twenty minutes Kedrov delivered a diatribe on the foolishness of Western farmers, calling for the Soviet farmer to lead the way back to diverse, organic farming, ending at last with the remark: “Our only salvation against certain worldwide famine is varietal planting.”
Bormett was given his chance for a final statement, but he was able to do little more than repeat what he had already said about output per acre, and the old saw about corn being knee high by the Fourth of July.
The applause came again, and Dr. Lubiako and Kedrov shook his hand and congratulated him as the students began filing out of the hall.
“You had me nearly speechless when you told us that the United States was the breadbasket of the world, because it’s so true, and I really had no defense,” Kedrov gushed.
“Brilliant, Mr. Bormett, simply brilliant,” Lubiako said, beaming. “One of the very reasons our selection committee chose you for this program.”
“There will be a little gathering at my home outside the city this evening,” Kedrov said. “I would be very pleased if you would be able to join us.”
“I don’t think so,” Bormett said. Catherine had joined them on the platform, and he looked at her.
“Please do, it would be a great honor for us all,” Lubiako said.
“Go ahead, William,” Catherine said.
“I thought you were tired.”
“I am. I’ll stay at the hotel and go to bed early.”
“I’m not going to leave you alone.”
“Nonsense,” she insisted. “I need the rest without you prowling around the room all night.”
“Then it’s settled,” Kedrov said smoothly. “I will send a car for you at seven. See you then.” He turned and left the platform.
“A brilliant man,” Dr. Lubiako said. “You’ll enjoy his little gathering tonight. Always very interesting people.”
Bormett insisted on having dinner with his wife before he left, and when he was ready to leave she had already taken her bath, and had gotten into bed.
“Have a good time, William, but don’t be too late.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can get away,” Bormett said, kissing his wife on the forehead. He took the elevator down to the lobby, where a chauffeur and his Intourist guide were waiting for him.
The evening was warm, and the drive north out of the city pleasant. The Intourist guide pointed out various buildings and institutions, including the All-Union Agricultural Exhibition which Dr. Lubiako had promised to show him over the weekend.
Beyond that, the road changed to a narrow blacktopped highway that ran through birch forests in full bloom now, the moonlight shimmering on the white bark, making it seem like an enchanted tunnel.
“Mr. Kedrov is a very influential man,” the Intourist guide, a young, good-looking woman, said to him. From her briefcase she pulled out a bottle of bourbon and two small glasses. She poured him a drink. “The past few days have been a strain on you, I can tell,” she said gently.
Bormett took his drink as she poured herself one, then raised her glass in a toast. “To friendship,” she said.
They clicked glasses, and drank. “I don’t think I can remember your name… I’ve been so busy.”
“I am Raya, and I’m an agriculture student at the university.”
“You are?”
“Yes,” she said earnestly. “I have listened to each of your talks. It must be fascinating, operating such a huge farm back in Iowa.” She laid a hand on his knee.
Bormett looked a little more closely at her, and she smiled, showing perfectly white teeth.
“Forgive me if I seem a bit forward, but I’ve always been attracted to big men like you,” she said.
Bormett didn’t know what the hell to say or do. And yet he found himself enjoying her attention for now. As long as it didn’t get out of hand, he’d go along with her.
He drank the rest of his bourbon and held out his glass for more.
“Now tell me something about yourself,” she said as she poured him another drink.
They drank and chatted for the rest of the hour-long trip out to Kedrov’s country home. By the time they arrived, Raya seemed quite tipsy and Bormett felt light-headed himself.
Inside, soft music was playing, there was food and drink laid out on tables, and a dozen men and women were dancing or sitting around talking.
Kedrov and Lubiako met them at the door, introduced Bormett around to the other guests, whose names and positions he would never remember, and within a half an hour he found himself dancing closely with Raya. She reminded him in many ways of what Catherine had been like as a young woman.
In between dances, Raya would pour Bormett another drink, and quite soon he relaxed, no longer giving a “good goddamn,” as he told her, “how drunk he was, how late it was, or where he was.”
The rest of the evening was sketchy in Bormett’s mind, except that some time after midnight he followed Raya up to one of the bedrooms because she said she needed help with something. Once there, she closed and locked the door, then took off her clothes and lay down on the bed, her legs spread.
“Please, William,” her sensuous voice penetrated the mist in his brain. “Please.”
He undressed, except for his socks, and got into bed with her. She pushed him over on his back and took him in her mouth, and for the next hour they did things together that he had never even thought of doing with Catherine. All of it excellent, all of it extremely pleasurable, and all of it without a thought of his wife.
Bormett woke at eight on Saturday morning back in his own bed at the hotel, with a splitting headache and a very foul taste in his mouth.
Catherine stood over the bed, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand and a rueful smile on her lips. “That must have been quite a party,” she said.
He sat up, his head nearly splitting apart. “Oh, God,” he moaned.
She laughed. “Dr. Lubiako wasn’t in much better condition that you, but he spent at least ten minutes apologizing for bringing you home so late.”
Bormett looked up at her, about to ask what time Dr. Lubiako had brought him back, when he suddenly remembered just what it was he had done, and his heart skipped a beat.
“Well, it serves you right to suffer like this,” Catherine said. She handed him his coffee. “Dr. Lubiako called ten minutes ago and said that, even though there’s no lecture this morning, you’re to come over to the university as soon as you’re ready — and I’d add, able. Someone there would like to meet with you. A farm region commander, or something like that.”
“I don’t think so,” Bormett said.
“Raya is picking me up in the lobby in a couple of minutes. We’re going shopping. We’ll meet you for late lunch back here.”
Bormett’s stomach flipped over at Raya’s name, and he could feel the blood rushing to his ears. Christ, what had he done? What was Lubiako thinking about him now? How could he face Raya, let alone Katy?
Catherine pecked her husband on the cheek and went to the door. “A university car and driver are waiting for you downstairs. Don’t keep them waiting, William,” she said brightly.