Kold laughed, practically without unclenching his lips, a laugh resembling that of someone paralyzed, with several short ha-has.
“I share your pleasure in Mr. Older’s sense of humour,” the Lawyer nodded, “I continue: in addition, he is authorized to report that the U.S. authorities are ready to provide the Russian authorities guarantees concerning the treatment which Mr. Kold, that means you, can expect when you return to the United States.
“And what is that?”
Lawyer noticed that Kold’s eyes, usually passionless, glowed strangely, as if he’d been told about the possibility of a big prize on horserace.
“Mr. Older writes that, and I quote: ‘Firstly, the U.S. authorities don’t intend to invoke capital punishment for Mr. Kold in case of his return to the United States. The nature of the charges brought against him doesn’t lead to invocation of such a measure. The U.S. authorities also don’t intend to invoke capital punishment for Mr. Kold for other crimes for which capital punishment is supposed.’”
“Funny,” Kold unexpectedly interrupted Lawyer. “Are they bargaining?”
“Listen to the end,” the Lawyer said softly. “There is still the ‘secondly’.”
“Sorry.”
“So, ‘Secondly, Mr. Kold will not be subjected to torture. Invocation of torture is forbidden by the legislation of the USA.’”
“Swines!” Kold’s voice trembled. He turned extremely pale, fists clenched. “Hypocritical swines!”
The Lawyer became silent, waiting until his interviewee pulled himself together. Kold’s reaction surprised him – perhaps, for the first time he had dared to give vent to feelings.
“May I continue?” Lawyer asked, at last.
“It isn’t necessary,” Kold shook his head and looked aside. “I know what is coming – that my case will not be considered by a military court, that I will be able to hire any lawyers and all interrogations will be carried out in their presence, that a trial jury will judge me in open court, that I will be able to appeal a judgement in the appellate court of the USA and so on, blah blah blah. Isn’t that true?”
“True,” the Lawyer nodded. “I will add only that in completing the message Mr. Older believes that the guarantees given by him are sufficient to completely deprive you of any basis for you to consider yourself a refugee and be provided with temporary or any other shelter.”
“They want to catch me at any cost,” Kold pulled a mouth corner. It was probably meant to be a smile, reminded the Lawyer more of a grimace of pain. “’He won’t be subjected to torture’, ‘it is necessary…’”
“Mr. Kold, there is more to come,” the Lawyer put the papers and file away in the brief case. “As you understand, after this letter the Russian side is obliged to react and make a decision on your application for provisional asylum based on the guarantees provided by the Attorney-General.”
“I… I understand,” Kold took off his glasses, and swept his hand across his face. It was clear he was hanging on by the skin of his teeth. “When will the decision be made?”
“I can’t tell you definitely, but I think in the nearest future. It is now 20:24 by Moscow time. By the morning everything will be clear.”
“The last night…” Kold whispered and tugged hard on his elbows. He stared at the table. “The last…”
“I understand that in this situation words of consolation look a little fake, but nevertheless – don’t worry,” the Lawyer stood up, patting Kold’s shoulder. “Don’t imagine the worst. Anyway, if you don’t mind, of course, I will be with you to the end to protect your interests.”
“Until the morning?” Kold raised his head. “Will you stay here with me until the morning?”
“If you need me.”
“Please, don’t leave me! I am lonely… And still this girlfriend of Cassandzhi tries to learn what information I have. She gives me hints, do you understand? And I am tired.”
“Perhaps, you should have a drink?” the Lawyer asked.
“No, I rarely drink and even if I did, now is definitely not the time to deceive myself with alcohol,” Kold looked out of the corners of his eyes at the Lawyer. “And anticipating your next question: medical means of calming nerves don’t interest me either.”
“What do you want?”
“To talk. Just to talk. However, if it isn’t interesting to you, of course, I don’t insist…”
The Lawyer slightly loosened his tie and leaned back on his chair.
“Mr. Kold, I have told you, I will be with you to the end in any turn of events; it is my professional duty. And believe me, I am speaking absolutely sincerely: you are one of the most interesting interlocutors I have ever met.”
Kold nodded, took a small bottle of water from a tray, unscrewed the cap, poured out a glass and took a sip.
“Interesting,” the Lawyer thought, “What if he now suddenly declares that he actually doesn’t want shelter in Russia, and wants to take off for Venezuela or Uruguay? Or wants to meet the wordsmiths upstairs and put all the information he has out there in real-time? Or just says: ‘I have realized the wrong I have done and the depth of my treachery. I now want to return home and be punished according to the guarantees of the Attorney-General of the USA Eric Older.’ What will this mean for those who make decisions at our end?”
The Lawyer knew who made the decision, and didn’t doubt for a moment that the decision would be made, and that from the point of view of safety of the country and its geopolitical interests the decision would be correct. But the destiny of the guy sitting in front of him was not enviable. How did the alternative journo describe it – ‘disemboweling’? God forbid he hear about the particulars of this especially as Kold didn’t react entirely comfortably to the words in the letter on torture to which ‘disemboweling’ must only partly compare…
08:30 P.M._
The clock jingled out half past nine in the evening. Kold frowned.
“You don’t like loud sounds?” the Lawyer asked.
“Not when they are imposed on me.”
The Lawyer stood up, opened the clock and stopped the ticker.
“So what would you like to talk about, Mr. Kold?”
“What? I don’t know… Everything. Or more precisely, about lots of things. I am at a crossroads, a bifurcation point, and to me it is important… important to understand what is happening. Both to me and to the world, as melodramatic as that sounds.”
“You need to get it off your chest,” the Lawyer nodded. “Well, it is good. For us lawyers, the principal who makes contact is always better than those who stay tight-lipped. You know, I don’t like the word ‘client’, so popular with American lawyers – it always reminds me of a phrase from an old Soviet comedy movie: ‘The client has ripened’. What does that mean? Well, it’s a long story, and has no relation to our business. Would you mind if I turn on a voice recorder? Recordings can be useful in this work.”
Kold grinned, genuinely this time, and waved a hand around the room as if specifying some objects invisible to Lawyer.
“Of course, turn it on. At least, you do it openly.”
He waited until the Lawyer had set his smartphone up then started talking:
“You asked what I would like to begin with? Probably, with rats.”
“With what?” said the Lawyer, surprised.
“With rats. Rats, small animals, rodents. Grey backs, beady eyes, naked tails, you know? The omnivorous creatures that can get anywhere and everywhere. Those scurrying beasts that since time immemorial have lived near human dwellings, where life is quieter, more reliable and more nourishing. By nature, a rat is an egoist thinking only of its own benefit and pleasures. In a dense forest, in a dried-up steppe or in some tundra it doesn’t get to live, but merely survive, and the rat doesn’t like it. Are you already recording?”