“Sir!” cried Afrikan when he saw Klim coming in at the gate. “You’ve come back!”
“Where’s Kitty?” asked Klim urgently.
Afrikan looked at his feet. “Magda took her away. She sent Kapitolina back to the village immediately and gave me a ruble to drink to the October Revolution.”
Klim felt his heart thaw a little at this news. What angels some women were!
“They sealed your apartment straight away,” Afrikan informed Klim as he followed him up to the upper floor. “But today, some others came—in uniform—went in and stayed in there a long time. Then they cut the seal off the door as if nothing had happened.”
Klim opened the door to his apartment. It was obvious a search had taken place. The skirting boards had been torn away and sections of the parquet floor wrenched up, and then everything had been fastened back any which way. The floor was covered with the prints of muddy boots, and a pall of plaster dust lay over everything.
The packed suitcases were still where they had been. On one lay a large envelope with an official seal. Klim tore it open and pulled out the letter.
You are hereby informed that Comrade Stalin will receive you at the Kremlin on 13th of November at 7 p.m.
Klim was at a loss to understand what was going on. So, the guardian angel that had released him from prison was the general secretary of the All-Union Communist Party himself. But why had he not been informed that Mr. Rogov was a spy? And that he no longer worked for United Press?
Klim turned to Afrikan. “Would you bring up some coal for the boiler, please? I need to wash and change.”
When Afrikan had left, Klim picked up the telephone and called Magda.
“I’m at home,” he told her.
Kitty flew into the room and threw her arms around Klim’s neck.
“Daddy… Daddy…” she kept repeating.
Magda gazed lovingly at the two of them with tears in her eyes. “I thought I would never see you again,” she sniffed, overcome by emotion. “I’ve brought you some food. I expect you’re hungry.”
There was no kitchen table—Kapitolina had taken it with her, so Magda began laying food out on a newspaper spread out on the lid of the grand piano.
“I had a telegram from Seibert,” she said. “Nina arrived safely in Berlin, but Elkin never appeared with the money.”
“He was caught on the border,” explained Klim and gave Magda a short account of what had happened to him at the Lubyanka.
“I really don’t know why Stalin decided to save me,” he added.
“It wasn’t Stalin; it was me—and Babloyan.” Magda laughed, handing Klim a piece of bread and butter. “When I left you after the political rally, I remembered about the face cream I use for my freckles. I really need it, and Friedrich is always forgetting to bring me any. I wanted you to meet him in Berlin and remind him to get some. I ran after you and saw you being arrested.”
Magda had gone to Chistye Prudy and taken Kitty away with her, and then she had set off to see Babloyan at a celebratory dinner.
“You can’t imagine how happy I was to find out he spoke English!” she exclaimed, beaming. “I hinted that if he didn’t get you out of prison, you would tell everyone about the bribe he had taken. So, he persuaded Stalin to give you an interview and explained to the OGPU that you were a very important person who had the confidence of the General Secretary himself. Only he asked if you could keep quiet about the arrest. The last thing he needs is a row with the OGPU.”
“I don’t know how to thank you—” began Klim, but Magda waved aside his gratitude.
“It was nothing. So, when are you going to do the interview?”
Klim was silent for a moment.
“I’m not going to meet Stalin.”
“Why on earth not? A chance like this only comes across once in a lifetime. You can build your whole career on it. After all, Stalin has never once given an interview to a foreign correspondent.”
“I just hate the whole idea of talking to the man,” Klim said. “Stalin and his henchmen behave like common criminals and then act as if nothing has happened.”
Klim patted the polished case of the grand piano. “It looks fine, doesn’t it? Like an instrument in good working condition?”
He lifted the lid to show Magda a heap of loose hammers and a tangle of broken strings. “This is what I found after the apartment was searched. And that’s just the way I feel inside.”
“You’re a terrible romantic,” Magda sighed sympathetically. “As a journalist, you’re doing something unforgivably stupid.”
“But as a person, I’m averse to the idea. If I were to go to Stalin and not ask certain questions, I’d be taking part in a conspiracy of silence. And if I do ask them, I’ll be arrested again immediately.”
“Then you need to get out of Moscow as quick as you can,” Magda said. “Friedrich is flying to Berlin today. You’ll have to hope and pray he has room in his plane. Do you have a valid passport and exit visa?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Then there’s no time to be lost. I’ll get you a taxi now.”
Magda threw down a half-eaten piece of bread and ran out of the apartment.
Klim called out to Kitty. “We’re going, little one.”
He buttoned her coat and helped her put on her boots.
“What’s that, Daddy?” asked Kitty, pointing at the red mark on Klim’s neck.
He hurriedly adjusted his collar. “It’s nothing. It will heal soon.”
The mark from the telephone cable that the OGPU woman had used to throttle him was in the same place as Galina’s scar.
“We’re going to see Tata now,” said Klim. “We have to talk to her.”
“They rang yesterday from the morgue,” Galina’s neighbor, Natasha, told Klim. “They asked if anybody was going to pick up Comrade Dorina’s body or not. But what could we do with her body? We couldn’t afford to bury her, anyway. Tata and I went to say our goodbyes, and they took poor Galina off to the crematorium. It was all paid for by the state. We were told she died in the line of duty.”
“Is Tata in her room? “ asked Klim.
Natasha nodded. “She’s locked herself in, and she isn’t answering. We’re fed up with pounding on the door. I told her, ‘You need to go to an orphanage. Who’s going to feed you?’ But it’s all the same to her.”
Tata only opened the door when Kitty knocked and called her name. But as soon as Klim came in the room, she darted into the closet and began to whimper like a sick wolf cub.
Kitty ran to her. “Oh, please don’t cry!”
“Tata, we have very little time,” Klim said. “So, you need to make a decision quickly. Either you go to an orphanage, or you come abroad with Kitty and me. This minute.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” yelled Tata in an angry voice.
Klim sighed. “All right then. Kitty, let’s go.”
Reluctantly, Kitty tore herself away from Tata. “I love you very much!” she told her friend.
Klim and Kitty left the apartment and set off down the stairs.
“Wait!” Tata’s voice echoed around the stairwell. “I can’t go to an orphanage! I remember what it was like in the boarding school.”
“Come with us!” Kitty cried, her words echoing off the high ceiling.
Tata ran up to them, her worn slippers falling off her feet, and then stopped as if she had hit an invisible wall.
“How can you take me with you? You need documents, don’t you?”
“I can write your name in my passport,” said Klim. “That will be enough.”
Tata gawped at him, unable to believe her ears. “What? Are you going to adopt me?”
“Your mother saved my life.”
“When? How?”
“I’ll tell you later. Get your things together now. The taxi’s waiting.”