The three of them exchanged stunned looks. It was all they had hoped for, Effi thought bitterly.
‘Who was she?’ Russell murmured.
‘Someone at the funeral said Sonja had a younger sister,’ Effi remembered. ‘Who couldn’t come because she was in Leningrad. She’s at a the Kirov Ballet school.’
‘Or not,’ Russell said. ‘What’s the betting that was her?’
Effi didn’t want to believe it. ‘But why would Sonja keep silent? She must have been scared out of her wits, but once she decided to kill herself, why not leave a note?’
‘Shame,’ Russell suggested.
‘Shame for what?’ Effi retorted angrily. ‘You saw it all. There was nothing she could have done to save her sister. Or herself.’
‘We know that, but maybe she didn’t.’
‘Beria came back to Berlin at the end of March,’ Shchepkin said. ‘My guess is she couldn’t face the prospect of another meeting.’
Effi was still not satisfied. ‘That would explain why she killed herself when she did, but not why she didn’t leave a note.’
‘She wanted to save her children,’ Shchepkin said simply.
Effi stared at him. She was, Russell thought, suddenly seeing the Russian for who and what he was.
‘I know,’ Shchepkin told her. He looked like death, Russell thought.
Effi just sighed.
‘We can’t bring Sonja or her sister back,’ Russell said. ‘And they may never get justice if we use this film to blackmail Beria. But the living have to take precedence, even when it’s only ourselves.’
Effi smiled at that. ‘I suppose so.’
‘So how are we going to approach your boss?’ Russell asked the Russian.
‘I’ll take it to him. But first we need copies-two, I think, one for me and one for you. Do you know where we could have them made?’
‘I could ask people I know in the industry,’ Effi said, ‘but if someone gives me a name I’ll have no way of knowing how trustworthy the person is.’
Russell shook his head. ‘A professional job is out of the question. Copying something like this must be illegal, for a start. If we knew what equipment we needed, maybe we could borrow it. Even buy it, as a last resort.’
Effi had a realisation. ‘The people I got the projector from make most of their money from hiring out sex films. They’d need copies of their best earners, and they can’t be getting them from the studios. Not openly, anyway.’
‘You think they’re making their own?’
‘Or know someone with the right equipment who doesn’t ask questions. I’ll visit Muller Strasse in the morning.’
‘We both will,’ Russell decided. He turned to Shchepkin. ‘And once we have them, you’ll what? Knock on the bastard’s door?’
‘Why not? He doesn’t live in the Kremlin. He has a mansion on Kachalova Street, out near the Zoo.’
‘How appropriate.’
‘I shall tell him we have the original, and what we want in exchange for keeping it hidden-that he will allow my wife and daughter join me here in Berlin, promise to keep silent about your work for the Soviet Union, and guarantee that no retributive action be taken against member of your family. I’ll need a list,’ Shchepkin added.
Russell wasn’t sure about that, as giving Beria a list of who he cared about felt like asking for trouble. But then again … ‘The man’s not going to like being threatened,’ was all he said.
‘Of course not,’ Shchepkin agreed. ‘But he won’t let that get in his way. He needs what we’re offering; he doesn’t need what we want in return. Why should he refuse?’
Spite, Russell thought, but Shchepkin knew the man better than he did. ‘In the long run? Can we trust him? Come to that, will he trust us?’
‘Trust doesn’t come into it. He has nothing to gain by coming after us, and everything to lose. And why would we release the film as long as he leaves us alone?’
‘You’re assuming everyone will act reasonably.’
‘Well, you and I will. And Beria may be a psychopath, but he’s not irrational.’
‘Is that good news or bad?’
‘For us, good,’ Shchepkin said, getting to his feet. ‘You must call me on the usual number the moment you have copies.’
‘And then you’ll head off to Moscow?’
‘Not directly. Provided you agree, I shall take the original somewhere else first. I think I know how to put it beyond even Beria’s reach.’
‘Do we need to know where?’
‘On the contrary. And I won’t want to know where you’ve hidden the other copy. To be brutally frank, our lives may depend on Beria being unable to discover both hiding places from either one of us.’ He didn’t use the word, but the prospect of torture hung in the air.
‘Makes sense,’ Russell agreed.
As Shchepkin turned to leave, Effi had a last question for him. ‘After what we’ve just seen, doesn’t the prospect of knocking on that man’s door and making him extremely angry frighten you?’
The Russian thought about it. ‘Yes and no,’ he said eventually. ‘But I’ve already had that conversation with John. I think he’ll grind his teeth and accept our terms. If I’m wrong, and I’m dragged off to a cell, he’ll also come after you. It won’t stop the film seeing the light of day, of course, but I’m sure he’d want to take you down with him.’
That evening, Rosa wanted to see another of Effi’s audition films. As they watched it in the darkened room, Russell kept seeing the naked women entwined on the carpet, the one who was dead and the one who wasn’t, but might as well have been.
The shop on Muller Strasse was closed when they reached it the following morning, so the two of them set up a vigil in a cafe window across the street. Almost an hour went by, and they were beginning to give up hope, when the youth who had served Effi on her previous visit ambled into view on the opposite pavement, and inserted his key in the oversized padlock.
As they walked across the wide thoroughfare, Russell agreed that Effi should do the talking. And, if necessary, the charming.
The youth smiled when he saw her, and then made a valiant effort to hide his disappointment when he realised she wasn’t alone. ‘Is the projector outside?’ he asked.
‘No, I still have it at home. It’s fine. Look,’ Effi said, ‘you were very helpful the other day, and I was wondering … Well, given your line of business, I imagine you need more than one copy of your films?’
‘Yes,’ he said cautiously.
‘You see, my film-I’d like to make some copies of it. For directors I know. You understand?’
‘Yes, yes. I could do that for you.’
‘Do you make the copies yourself? You don’t use a professional setup?’
‘Nothing so grand. And yes, I make them myself. We … I … simply set up a camera alongside the projector, and film the film so to speak. On a white wall, of course.’
‘And that makes good copies?’ Russell asked with a disarming smile.
‘Good enough,’ the youth said. ‘They’re not quite as sharp, but you don’t lose much.’
‘Where do you do it?’ Effi asked.
‘In the basement.’
‘Ah. The reason I ask is that I don’t want any strangers to see what’s on the film, and so would it be possible for you to set up the equipment in the way that you said, show us how to operate it, and then leave us to make the copies ourselves?’
‘That’s not …’
‘We’d pay you well,’ Russell interjected.
‘How well?’
After five minutes of haggling they agreed a price. ‘I should have let you go in alone,’ Russell admitted once they’d left. ‘He knows how to deal with men.’
That evening they returned with the film, and followed the youth down a flight of stone steps to a whitewashed basement. The equipment was already set up. ‘It’s simple,’ their tutor explained, after pocketing the wad of dollars. ‘You just switch them both on, here and here. Adjust the focus with this if you need to, but you probably won’t. How long is it?’ he asked, as he threaded the film on to the sprockets.
‘Only twenty minutes or so,’ Effi told him.
‘Well after you’ve made the first copy, have a look at it. If there’s a problem, I’ll be upstairs. If not, make the second.’