“The vyzov has already been notarized but now it must be certified again at the Finnish Embassy, after which the cousin mails it to Levit. If Levit had been lucky he would have received it, but he did not, and we had to make the request again. In point of fact we had to go through this four times, much to the inconvenience of the ‘cousin’ in Israel who did not live anywhere near Tel Aviv.”
“You mean the Soviet censors were confiscating Levit’s incoming mail?”
“Of course. It is standard, this sort of harassment. All right, finally Levit received his vyzov. That much had taken nearly three months’ time.
“He took the document to the local OVIR and they gave him a form to fill out. For this form one must provide a stack of authenticating documents: a karakterstika from his place of employment, signed not only by his director but also by the Communist Party representative there and also by his trade union representative.
“No law forces these functionaries to sign such documents. They may call you a traitor, they may demote you, they may even dismiss you.
“In the meantime you are questioned by KGB agents. Your home is searched, your parents and relations and friends are interrogated. They are pressured by the KGB and if any of them weakens he will probably end up by testifying to your anti-Soviet activities so that the State can send you to prison on charges of treason or spreading Zionist racist propaganda or belonging to an imperialist Zionist ideological front.”
He was speaking in a monotone now, repressing all emotion. “Levit was also required to get a paper from his landlord, and one from his children’s teachers, and one from his wife’s employer-she had to go through the same idiocy he went through.
“In the meantime we had sent our own people to talk with his friends and relations before the KGB could reach them, so that they’d know what to say when they were questioned. We had also exercised a little quiet pressure from various sources against both the Levits’ factory supervisors. If we hadn’t done so, the chances are the supervisors wouldn’t have signed their karakterstiki. The supervisors weren’t Jews, you see.
“All right, Levit got all these papers filled out and signed. I went over them with him to make sure there had been no mistakes in them. Then he took it all back to OVIR in Sebastopol and paid a forty-ruble filing fee. After that he had to wait five months.
“At the end of the five months he was informed by OVIR that his job was sensitive and important. Therefore his exit passport and visa were being denied.
“I had expected as much, and warned him, but you can imagine the man’s desperation. We convinced him to stick to it. He filed the necessary appeal. Three months later his appeal was denied. It was only then that I was allowed, by the regulations of our own organization, to act. Even so, in many of these cases we do nothing further. The applicant after another year’s waiting is allowed to apply again.”
“For an exit visa?”
“For a new vyzov from Israel,” he said, utterly without inflection. “You must start at the beginning and go through the entire utter nonsense over again. I’ve known some patient Jews who were at it eight years before they got their visas.”
“I gather it didn’t take Levit eight years.”
“The man hadn’t the patience. He was beginning to drink a great deal, which was not like him-ordinarily drunkenness is a Slavic trait which the Jews despise. He and his wife were despondent. Their children were being subjected to cruel harassment in school. Both husband and wife had been dismissed from their jobs.”
“If he’d been dismissed they couldn’t deny him his visa again on the grounds of the sensitivity of his work.”
Bukov nodded-that was true. “He might have been successful if he’d tried it again. But he’d have had to wait twelve months to start, and it would have been at least six months-more likely another year-before it ended. Two years, with no income. They were despondent enough to be talking about suicide. Both of them. They told me they had considered it. I was not prepared to take the risk they would do it.”
“So you smuggled them out of the Soviet Union?”
“In some cases we merely arrange false papers-the razrewenia and the rest. In this case, for various reasons, that sort of forgery was impractical.”
“What reasons?”
“Principally the psychological state of the Levits. They were nervous wrecks, both of them. Very likely they’d have broken under the strain of interrogations and checkpoints, regardless of how serviceable their documents had been. If they’d exposed themselves they’d have exposed many of us too. We preferred to avoid that risk. So we smuggled them out, yes.”
“How?”
“I’m not at liberty to explain the details. You understand.”
“All right,” I said. “Why have you told me all this?”
“To gain your sympathy. Do I have it?”
“Up to a point.”
“Up to what point, Mr. Bristow? The point of willingness to help us?”
MacIver had been right. I felt as if Nikki had kicked me in the pit of the stomach.
I straightened up on the bench. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t fight. “I understand. I had hoped …”
“Under other circumstances I might have.” That was a shabby attempt and I regretted it the instant I had spoken. But I didn’t retract it; it was too late for that.
I don’t know if he understood what I meant. If Nikki hadn’t chosen to take advantage of our relationship in such a way I might have been far more open to his suggestion. But I wasn’t sure of that; I’m still not sure what I might have done under other circumstances. Anyone who is exposed to the product of the modern world’s massive news-gathering machinery learns very quickly that he cannot possibly concern himself with even a small fraction of the injustice and misery that infects his planet. And since he cannot help everyone he soon becomes indifferent to anyone. I think this is really why witnesses to muggings watch but do nothing-it is why none of us wants to “get involved.” We are assailed by too many appeals, all of them worthy; we are threatened by an avalanche of “problems” which cry out for “solutions”; finally in defense of our sanity we close our ears and isolate ourselves.
The moral rectitude of such a course is dubious but the pragmatic necessity is clear. In such a mood of defensive isolation I might well have reasoned that the Jews now had a strong and capable ally-the people and government of Israel-and that I, who was neither a smuggler nor a Jew, had no obligation to assist them. I might have; I might not. I can’t say. The issue was clouded by Nikki’s involvement in it; this was what I reacted to-it was my personal sense of betrayal that dictated my decision.
Bukov got to his feet, carrying the umbrella. “I apologize for taking so much of your time.”
“It’s quite all right.”
“We’d better get back. Your friend will be waking up soon.”
We walked through the dim empty station. As we passed through the door and he unfurled the umbrella he said, “Please remember my offer of assistance. If the need arises, I’m at your service.”
“I shouldn’t think you owe me anything.”
“It wasn’t intended as a bargaining point, Mr. Bristow. The two questions are separate. The one never depended on the other.”
“Well since I’m not joining your fifth column I don’t see how the need should arise.”
“I hope it won’t,” he said with resonant sincerity, and we picked our way across the square, around the puddles.