“Thank you very much. You must have given me your things, am I right? Did you buy all this for yourself? It’s all new except for the sweater.”
Lena tried to articulate precisely to make it easier for the young woman to read her lips.
“How long are they going to keep me here?” Lena asked in a whisper, and she nodded to the bathroom in hopes that the deaf-mute would have a tile dialog with her again.
The young woman frowned and shook her head no.
“What’s your name?” Lena asked.
The deaf-mute got a pencil out and wrote right on the cart’s white plastic surface: Nina.
“Very nice to meet you, Nina. My name is Lena. Although, you probably know that already.”
Nina nodded and smiled.
“Nina, please sit with me. Let’s have coffee together. I won’t ask you any more hard questions.”
Nina looked at her watch, nodded, went out for a minute without even closing the door behind her. She returned a minute later with a second coffee cup and an ashtray.
“Thank you again,” Lena said.
But there wasn’t anything for them to talk about. All she had were hard questions, and Lena was afraid of scaring off her companion. They drank their coffee in silence and then both lit up.
“Do you live here all the time? Or do you just come for visits?” Lena finally brought herself to ask.
But Nina frowned again and shook her head.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I can ask you that you can answer. When you leave, I’ll be left alone. What am I supposed to do then? Are there any books here? Or newspapers, or magazines? I could at least read. I can’t do this—eat, sleep, look out the window at the snow, and wait.”
Nina nodded and took out her pencil again.
There are books, she wrote on the white plastic.
“What kind?” Lena asked.
I don’t know. I can bring them all.
She stubbed out the cigarette and left quickly, taking the serving cart with her. She reappeared half an hour later. On the same cart there was a stack of books. Nina neatly unloaded them onto the bureau, gave a friendly nod in response to Lena’s “thanks,” and left.
The usual black-market books from the late seventies, Lena determined, examining the spines. A gentleman’s assortment: Angélique, The Three Musketeers, Pikul’s Word and Deed, and a few novels by Maurice Druon. Books obtained in exchange for pulp fiction or else bought through connections. “Proper” homes were supposed to have them. Not that anyone actually read them. The colorful covers just adorned the shelves of imported bookcases, like mother-of-pearl china from East Germany and Czech crystal.
It was obvious no one had ever touched these books. They had never been opened, though they’d been on the shelf for nearly two decades. Lena didn’t feel like reading The Three Musketeers or Angélique. The only thing that drew her attention was the collection of Ivan Bunin’s works.
Lena lay down on the bed, on top of the blanket, in her jeans and a T-shirt. After the first two pages of “Antonov Apples” she forgot where she was. It was as if she could smell the apples.
That afternoon Nina stopped by to bring food—a small piece of baked sturgeon, a vegetable salad, two apples, and a bunch of bananas.
“They’re feeding me well,” Lena noted. “You don’t know whether they’re planning to let me out of here alive, do you?”
Nina turned away and headed for the door.
“I’m sorry. That was a stupid joke,” Lena said as she left.
Nina wasn’t looking at her, so Lena may as well have been speaking into the void.
Night fell imperceptibly. Lena shut Bunin’s selected works. She had read the fat volume from cover to cover, including the foreword and notes.
She walked over to the now-black window. She could try to open it or break the glass. She was only on the second floor, and the snow would cushion her landing if she jumped. But there was probably a guard out there, and beyond him, the taiga.
The wind was wailing softly, and the trees’ black silhouettes were bending and creaking. Somewhere close by, dogs were barking, and judging from their heavy, low voices, they were big, German shepherds or wolfhounds. In the distance, in the taiga’s deep, dense forest, wolves howled to the cold night wind.
Either they’ll kill me in an escape attempt, Lena reasoned calmly, or else I’ll get lost in the taiga. But more than likely they’ll shoot me before I can take even a single step. Curly has probably decided to use the information I gave him for his own benefit. He is going to blackmail Volkov and Gradskaya to become the sole owner of their business. I wonder how long this is going to take? For now, he needs me. I am his primary weapon against Volkov and Gradskaya. He’s decided to keep me in good condition so that he can present me to them at any time—not only alive but well, clean, fed, and capable of speaking coherently.
And after that? Then I’ll just vanish. Seryozha will look for me. At the last moment, special ops will fly in on a helicopter and take the building by storm. Yes, of course. Hope and wait! Lena grinned. Federal Security Sasha knows exactly who’s following us. Is it even possible that they don’t know about this building? But what if Curly paid them all off? Why spoil their relationship with him? A bad peace with a crime boss is better than a good quarrel. His own colleagues will make sure Seryozha doesn’t find me.
Before going to bed, she headed for the shower. She washed her hair slowly, stood under the hot shower for a long time, and then carefully combed out her wet hair in front of the mirror. Nina hadn’t missed a single detail and had equipped her with virtually everything a woman might need. I wonder for how long? This isn’t for life, after all! Though how much longer do I have to live? A week? A month? Probably not more. But in a month they’ll find me. Seryozha won’t rest until he does.
After stepping out of the shower and putting on the borrowed robe, leaving her wet hair loose, Lena lit a cigarette and pressed her back up against the black window. The smell of early spring came through the open vent. Soon the snow would melt in the taiga, and the Tobol and Yenisei would overflow their banks. It was probably warm in Moscow already. Liza had grown out of her snowsuit. Lena would have to buy her a new one for next winter. Or would a little coat be better? She wondered whether her new boots leaked.
The barking of the dogs grew loud and then turned into a howl. There were several of them, at least three, but they fell silent—one after the other. Then it got quiet, and in that silence she distinctly heard a soft thump, as if something big and heavy had fallen to the ground right in front of her window.
All of a sudden the lights went out. Throughout the building. The yellowish light that had just been cast from the neighboring windows disappeared. Lena froze and peered into the darkness. The light of her cigarette flared up in the glass. A minute later she heard steps and voices outside the door.
“You go check!” Lena heard the voice that belonged to Vadik shout. “Let me go outside and I’ll check the fuse.”
Someone replied, but Lena could no longer make out the words. The voices and steps moved away, and then it got quiet again. Lena’s heart started pounding. Without knowing why, she dressed quickly in the darkness, feeling for her jeans and knit shirts. She zipped up and used her lighter to find her boots.