The tone of his voice made her realize that she could protect Leo best by remaining silent. She answered, shrugging: “Just a friend. We’ll keep silent, Andrei. It’s late. Will you take me home?”
But when he left her at her parents’ house, she waited only to hear his steps dying around the corner. Then she ran through dark streets to the first taxi she could find and leaped in, ordering: “Marinsky Theater! As fast as you can go!”
In the dim, deserted lobby of the theater, she heard the thunder of the orchestra behind closed doors, a tuneless, violent jumble of sound.
“Can’t go in now, citizen,” said a stern usher.
She slipped a crumpled bill into his hand, whispering: “I have to find someone, comrade.... It’s a matter of life and death ... his mother is dying....”
She slipped noiselessly between blue velvet curtains into a dark, half-empty theater. On the glittering stage a chorus of fragile ballerinas in short, flame-red tulle skirts fluttered, waving thin, powdered arms with gilded chains of papier-mâché, in a “Dance of the Toilers.”
She found Leo and Antonina Pavlovna in comfortable armchairs in an empty row. They jumped up when they saw Kira slipping toward them down the long row of chairs, and someone behind them hissed: “Sit down!”
“Leo!” Kira whispered. “Come on! Right away! Something’s happened!”
“What?”
“Come on! I’ll tell you! Let’s get out of here!”
He followed her up the dark aisle. Antonina Pavlovna waddled hurriedly after them, her chin pointing forward.
In a corner of the empty foyer, Kira whispered: “It’s the G.P.U., Leo, they’re after your store. They know something.”
“What? How did you find out?”
“I just saw Andrei Taganov and he ...”
“You saw Andrei Taganov? Where? I thought you were going to visit your parents.”
“Oh, I met him on the street and ...”
“What street?”
“Leo! Stop that nonsense! Don’t you understand? We have no time to waste!”
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t say much. Just a few hints. He told me to keep away from you if I didn’t want to be arrested. He said you had a private food store, and he mentioned Pavel Syerov. He said he had a report to make to the G.P.U. I think he knows everything.”
“So he told you to keep away from me?”
“Leo! You refuse to ...”
“I refuse to be frightened by some jealous fool!”
“Leo, you don’t know him! He doesn’t joke about G.P.U. matters. And he’s not jealous of you. Why should he be?”
“What department of the G.P.U. is he in?”
“Secret service department.”
“Not the Economic Section, then?”
“No. But he’s doing it on his own.”
“Well, come on. We’ll call Morozov and Pavel Syerov. Let Syerov call his friend of the Economic Section and find out what your Taganov’s doing. Don’t get hysterical. Nothing to be afraid of. Syerov’s friend will take care of it. Come on.”
“Leo,” Antonina Pavlovna panted, running after them, as they hurried to a taxi outside, “Leo, I had nothing to do with the store! If there’s an investigation, remember, I had nothing to do with it! I only carried money to Syerov and I knew nothing about where it came from! Leo, remember!”
An hour later, a sleigh drove noiselessly up to the back entrance of the store that carried the sign “Lev Kovalensky. Food Products.” Two men slipped silently down frozen, unlighted stairs to the basement, where Leo and the clerk were waiting with a dim old lantern. The newcomers made no sound. Leo pointed silently to the sacks and boxes. The men carried them swiftly up the stairs to the sleigh. The sleigh was covered with a large fur blanket. In less than ten minutes the basement was empty.
“Well?” Kira asked anxiously, when Leo came home.
“Go to bed,” said Leo, “and don’t dream of any G.P.U. agents.”
“What did you do?”
“It’s all done. We got rid of everything. It’s on its way out of Red Leningrad this very minute. We had another load coming from Syerov tomorrow night, but we’ve cancelled that. We’ll be running a pure little food store — for a while. Till Syerov checks up on things.”
“Leo, I ...”
“You won’t start any arguments again. I’ve told you once: I’m not going to leave town. That would be the most dangerous, the most suspicious thing to do. And we have nothing to worry about. Syerov’s too strong at the G.P.U. for any ...”
“Leo, you don’t know Andrei Taganov.”
“No, I don’t. But you seem to know him too well.”
“Leo, they can’t bribe him.”
“Maybe not. But they can make him shut up.”
“If you’re not afraid ...”
“Of course I’m not afraid!”
But his face was paler than usual and she noticed his hands, unbuttoning his coat, trembling.
“Leo, please! Listen!” she begged. “Leo, please! I ...”
“Shut up!” said Leo.
XII
THE EXECUTIVE OF THE ECONOMIC SECTION OF the G.P.U. called Andrei Taganov into his office.
The office was in a part of the G.P.U. headquarters’ building which no visitors ever approached and into which few employees were ever admitted. Those who were admitted spoke in low, respectful voices and never felt at ease.
The executive sat at his desk. He wore a military tunic, tight breeches, high boots and a gun on his hip. He had close-cropped hair and a clean-shaved face that betrayed no age. When he smiled, he showed short teeth and very wide, brownish gums. His smile betrayed no mirth, no meaning; one knew it was a smile only because the muscles of his cheeks creased and his gums showed.
He said: “Comrade Taganov, I understand you’ve been conducting some investigations in a case which comes under the jurisdiction of the Economic Section.”
Andrei said: “I have.”
“Who gave you the authority to do it?”
Andrei said: “My Party card.”
The executive smiled, showing his gums, and asked: “What made you begin the investigation?”
“A piece of incriminating evidence.”
“Against a Party member?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you turn it over to us?”
“I wanted to have a complete case to report.”
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
“You intend to report it to the chief of your department?”
“Yes.”
The executive smiled and said: “I suggest that you drop the entire matter.”
Andrei said: “If this is an order, I’ll remind you that you are not my chief. If it is advice, I do not need it.”
The executive looked at him silently, then said: “Strict discipline and a straightforward loyalty are commendable traits, Comrade Taganov. However, as Comrade Lenin said, a Communist must be adaptable to reality. Have you considered the consequences of what you plan to expose?”
“I have.”
“Do you find it advisable to make public a scandal involving a Party member — at this time?”
“That should have been the concern of the Party member involved.”
“Do you know my ... interest in that person?”
“I do.”
“Does the knowledge make any difference in your plans?”
“None.”
“Have you ever thought that I could be of service to you?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“Don’t you think that it is an idea worth considering?”
“No. I don’t.”
“How long have you held your present position, Comrade Taganov?”