Kira whispered: “I ... I was thinking about you ... today.”
“Were you thinking about me?”
His fingers hurt her arm; he leaned close to her, his eyes wide, menacing, mocking in their haughty understanding, caressing and masterful.
She whispered: “Yes.”
They stood alone in the middle of the river. A tramway clattered, rising up the bridge, shaking the steel beams to their roots in the water far below. Leo’s face was grim. He said: “I thought of you, too. But I didn’t want to think of you. I fought it this long.”
She did not answer. She stood straight, tense, still.
“You know what I wanted to tell you,” he said, his face very close to hers.
And, without thought, without will or question, in a voice that was someone’s order to her, not her voice, she answered: “Yes.”
His kiss felt like a wound.
Her arms closed around the frightening wonder of a man’s body. She heard him whisper, so close that it seemed her lips heard it first: “Kira, I love you....”
And someone’s order to her repeated through her lips, persistently, hungrily, insanely: “Leo, I love you.... I love you.... I love you....”
A man passed by. The little spark of a cigarette jerked up and down in the darkness.
Leo took her arm and led her away, on perilous ground, through the deep, unbroken snow, to the bridge.
They stood in the darkness of steel vaults. Through the black webbing above, they saw the red sky dying out slowly.
She did not know what he was saying; she knew that his lips were on hers. She did not know that her coat collar was unbuttoned; she knew that his hand was on her breast.
When a tramway rose up the bridge over their heads, the steel clattered convulsively, a dull thunder rolling through its joints; and for a long time after it was gone, the bridge moaned feebly.
The first words she remembered were: “I’ll come tomorrow.”
Then she found her voice and stood straight and said: “No. It’s too dangerous. I’m afraid someone saw you. There are spies at the Institute. Wait for a week.”
“Not that long?”
“Yes.”
“Here?”
“No. Our old place. At night. Nine o’clock.”
“It will be hard to wait.”
“Yes, Leo ... Leo....”
“What?”
“Nothing. I like to hear your name.”
That night, on the mattress in the corner of her room, she lay motionless and saw the blue square of the window turn pink.
VIII
IN THE INSTITUTE CORRIDOR, ON THE NEXT day, a student with a red badge stopped her.
“Citizen Argounova, you’re wanted in the Communist Cell. At once.”
In the room of the Communist Cell, at a long bare table, sat Pavel Syerov.
He asked: “Citizen Argounova, who was the man at the gate with you last night?”
Pavel Syerov was smoking. He held the cigarette firmly at his lips and looked at Kira through the smoke.
She asked: “What man?”
“Comrade Argounova having trouble with her memory? The man I saw at the gate with you last night.”
A picture of Lenin hung on the wall, behind Pavel Syerov. Lenin looked sidewise, winking slyly, his face frozen in half a smile.
“Oh, yes, I do remember,” said Kira. “There was a man. But I don’t know who he was. He asked me how to find some street.”
Pavel Syerov shook the ashes off his cigarette into a broken ashtray. He said pleasantly: “Comrade Argounova, you’re a student of the Technological Institute. Undoubtedly you wish to continue to be.”
“Undoubtedly,” said Kira.
“Who was that man?”
“I wasn’t interested enough to ask him.”
“Very well. I won’t ask you that. I’m sure we both know his name. All I want is his address.”
“Well, let me see, ... yes, he asked the way to Sadovaia Street. You might look there.”
“Comrade Argounova, I’ll remind you that the gentlemen of your faction have always accused us proletarian students of belonging to a secret police organization. And, of course, that might be true, you know.”
“Well, may I ask you a question, then?”
“Certainly. Always pleased to accommodate a lady.”
“Who was that man?”
Pavel Syerov’s fist came down on the table. “Citizen Argounova, do you have to be reminded that this is no joke?”
“If it isn’t, will you tell me what it is?”
“You’ll understand what it is and damn quick. You’ve lived in Soviet Russia long enough to know how serious it is to protect counter-revolutionaries.”
A hand opened the door without knocking. Andrei Taganov came in. His face showed no astonishment or emotion. Syerov’s did; he raised the cigarette to his lips a little too quickly.
“Good morning, Kira,” Andrei said calmly.
“Good morning, Andrei,” she answered.
He walked to the table. He took a cigarette and bent toward the one in Syerov’s hand. Syerov held it out to him hastily. Syerov waited; but Andrei said nothing; he stood by the table, the smoke of his cigarette rising in a straight column. He looked at Kira and Syerov, silently.
“Comrade Argounova, I do not doubt your political trustworthiness,” Comrade Syerov said gently. “I’m sure that the single question of one address will not be hard for you to answer.”
“I told you I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before. I can’t know his address.”
Pavel Syerov tried surreptitiously to observe Andrei’s reaction; but Andrei did not move. Pavel Syerov leaned forward and spoke softly, confidentially. “Comrade Argounova, I want you to understand that this man is wanted by the State. Perhaps it’s not our assignment to search for him. But if you can help us to find him, it will be very valuable to you and to me — and to all of us,” he added significantly.
“And if I can’t help you — what am I to do?”
“You’re to go home, Kira,” said Andrei.
Syerov dropped his cigarette.
“That is,” Andrei added, “unless you have lectures to attend. If we need you again — I’ll send for you.”
Kira turned and left the room. Andrei sat down on the corner of the table and crossed his legs.
Pavel Syerov smiled; Andrei was not looking at him. Pavel Syerov cleared his throat. Pavel Syerov said: “Of course, Andrei, old pal, I hope you don’t think that I ... because she is a friend of yours and....”
“I don’t think it,” said Andrei.
“I’d never question or criticize your actions. Not even if I did think that it’s not good discipline to cancel a fellow Communist’s order before an outsider.”
“What discipline permitted you to call her for questioning?”
“Sorry, pal. My fault. Of course, I was only trying to help you.”
“I have not asked for help.”
“It was like this, Andrei. I saw her with him at the door last night. I’ve seen his pictures. The G.P.U. has been searching for him for almost two months.”
“Why didn’t you report it to me?”