She reached out, took the cigarette and stubbed it out in an ashtray on the nearest table. She lifted his hand and placed it over her racing heart. His mouth softened instantly. She stretched up on her toes, encircled his neck with her arms and pulled his head down to hers till her lips were pressed hard against his. At first he didn’t respond. Unyielding and reluctant. She feared she’d got it all wrong. But as soon as she leaned her weight against him, letting the heat of her body sweep over his, he changed abruptly. His tongue darted into her mouth, his hands started to pull at her blouse, and a sound like a drunken moan escaped his lips. He had her now. Exactly what he wanted.
Lydia kept her eyes open. Forced herself to look at him as his hand slid under the waistband of her skirt.
‘Well, what a pretty party this is. Can anyone join in or is it private?’
Lydia froze. Dmitri unwound himself. He breathed out heavily.
‘Hello, Antonina,’ he said with an untroubled smile. ‘ Lydia was just teaching me the skills of gambling.’
‘Bidding high, were you?’
‘Extremely.’
Antonina’s fingernails began to trace a path up and down her long white gloves. ‘ Lydia, your brother wishes to speak with you.’
Lydia felt a tremor moving like a snake in her gut. Without a word and without a glance at the Russian husband and wife, she walked out of the room. The snake shifted its coils inside her, sliding up from her stomach to her throat till she thought she would be sick.
‘Lydia Ivanova, you’re under arrest.’
Lydia spun round to face the speaker, heart racing, legs tensed to run. A scruffy mop of milk-white hair and a boy’s wide grin greeted her. Even the dog in its sack on his chest had its pink tongue lolling out, laughing.
‘You bastard,’ she moaned and tried to clip Edik on the ear, but he ducked away with ease and pranced up on his toes beside her.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘I needed some air. So I’ve come to take a look at the Kremlin.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to see where all the decisions are made. Where it is that someone can just scribble his name on a piece of paper and decide my future.’ She shrugged in the bitter wind that rose off the water. ‘Whether I live or die.’
They were walking along a rough path on the edge of the River Moskva, the massive red walls of the Kremlin towering over them, its shadow heavy and cumbersome, its crenellations like teeth eager to bite. Lydia tipped her head back and studied it thoughtfully. ‘Do you know what I think, Edik? I think this fortress is a poisonous spider hunched at the centre of the web that is Moscow, and I feel as though I’m caught inside its sticky mesh. If I move, I know the spider will come for me.’
The boy stared at her for a second, then burst out laughing and swept a hand through the air with a rapid slicing movement. ‘That’s what I do to spiders’ webs. Tear them apart. It’s easy.’
Lydia laughed. ‘I envy you, Edik.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you see life in black and white. No greys.’
‘Is that wrong?’
‘No. I remember when not long ago I saw it like that too.’
‘So?’
She ruffled his hair and he danced out from under her hand, skipping ahead but backwards, so that he was facing her. She noticed for the first time that the grey tinge of his skin was gone and that his cheekbones had lost their sharp edges. The sausage and the ham and the warm coat were getting to work on him.
‘So hang on to your blacks and whites. They make life simpler. ’
The boy pulled a face. He didn’t understand. Why should he? She wasn’t sure she did herself. But he had all the rest of his life to find out what she meant. She pulled a face back at him. He made her, at only seventeen, feel old. She removed from her coat pocket the dainty cake with the sugary cherry that had accompanied her coffee earlier.
‘Look, Misty, I’ve brought something for you.’
It was meant as a treat for Edik but the dog came first with him. The puppy yapped and scrabbled to jump free, so the boy tipped his pup on to the path, its grey ears instantly buffeted into wings by the strong wind.
‘Half each,’ she insisted as she handed the cake over to Edik.
He knelt down, nibbled a small bite and dangled the rest above the little animal’s head until it danced up on its spindly hind legs.
‘I’m teaching her tricks, see. To earn money.’
‘Good idea.’
Tricks. For money. Just like she used to do. In China she’d believed that was the key. But now? She shrugged again, aware of the Kremlin walls. Now she saw more clearly despite the black shadows.
‘So what are you and Misty hanging round here for?’
He was concentrating on keeping the dog wobbling on two legs. ‘Looking for you.’
‘Why me?’
‘I got a message for you.’
She grabbed one of Edik’s ears hard, so that he squealed. ‘And when exactly did you intend to pass on this message?’
The puppy leapt up, trying to nip at her fingers.
‘Now,’ he said with a surly scowl. She released him.
‘Well?’
The boy narrowed his eyes at her speculatively. ‘Any more cakes?’
‘You thief,’ she complained and handed over the one she’d been saving to slide on to Chang’s tongue tonight. ‘You vor.’
He grinned. Popped the cake into Misty’s mouth. ‘He wants to see you. Right now.’
Before he’d finished speaking, she’d spun on her heel and was running over the wet grass.
44
Chang An Lo was naked. As Lydia burst into the room, the sight of him stopped her in her tracks and stole her breath. He was standing by the window looking out, a blade of pearly light painting the long lines of his body, defining the muscles of his chest and the strong tendons that ran from his hip to his thigh. He was beautiful.
He must have been watching for her approach, checking no one had followed her. And when she entered he turned his head, looking at her over one shoulder. She didn’t breathe. Didn’t move.
His eyes were as naked as his body. Dark, complex, a battle-ground of emotion. The centre of him, that stillness she so loved, was plunged into turmoil. His gods must be laughing at him. Yet one corner of his mouth started to curl into a smile.
It was an image she knew she would not forget.
When Lydia opened her eyes, Chang was leaning on his elbow watching her. She wondered whether he’d seen her dreams.
‘Hello,’ she said and smiled up at him.
He kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose, but avoided the temptation of her lips. That was when she knew he was ready to talk. Outside the wind was fierce, scratching at the window, sliding through the gaps, and the sound of it made her nervous. It was the sound of things falling apart.
He stroked her face. ‘Are you ready to listen?’ he asked.
Her pulse set up a beat in her ears. ‘Yes.’
‘I’ve found him.’
‘Jens?’
‘Yes.’
She couldn’t speak.
‘I’ve been to the prison. I’ve inspected his workroom.’ Chang gazed down at her, his black eyes gentle and watchful. ‘I’ve seen him. I’ve spoken with Jens Friis himself.’
She started to shake.
‘Don’t cry, my love.’
‘Tell me,’ she whispered.
‘He’s well. Tall and strong.’
‘How?’ It was all she could say.
‘I requested a visit by our delegation to prison 1908. Of course the Russians refused at first. They were shocked by the fact I even knew the place existed and it made them nervous of what else our Chinese secret agents might know.’
She watched his mouth move but had to listen hard to hear the words. There was too much noise in her head. He stroked her, softening the sharp edges of her thoughts.
‘I asked our delegation leader, Li Min, to point out that we don’t wish to know what it is their prisoners are working on, but rather how they construct an institution like that. So many fields of expertise assembled from different camps and all working on one project. Still they said no.’ His finger twined around a lock of her hair. ‘So I reminded them of their food shortages and of China ’s abundance of rice.’ His dark eyes gleamed briefly with satisfaction. ‘They quickly understood.’