‘I see.’
The lift doors wheezed open. Standing on the landing was, I would have been prepared to swear, exactly the same old lady as we had seen exiting downstairs: the same woody deep-wrinkled face, the same low-slung head and black hump, the same string bag. She shuffled into the lift as we stepped out onto the fifteenth floor.
Saltykov’s tiny apartment was as minimalist as I would have expected it to be: sparsely furnished and ferociously neat. The worst that could be said of it was that it was a little dusty, and that the windows could have done with a wipe; but everything inside was certainly carefully arranged. The books were arranged (by the colour of their spines) so tightly on the bookshelves they effectively formed laminated blocks. I did what any lover of books would do: I checked to see what volumes Saltykov had upon his shelves. Most of these books were novels by the English writer Agatha Christie — in Russian, of course — although there were several technical manuals relating to nuclear power. Apart from the books, the tiny apartment was undecorated. There were no photographs on the wall, no knickknacks, no distractions. A narrow settee was arranged exactly in the centre of the living room; and exactly in the centre of the settee was the ample frame of Dora Norman: as large as life. Larger, indeed, than most lives.
She looked exactly as I remembered her, although her face bore signs of grief, and those, rather surprisingly, suited her. Her ample features appeared dignified and, even, beautiful in their sombre repose.
She saw me, and smiled. ‘[Mr Koreshy!]’ she said. [‘Oh how pleased I am to see you again!]’
‘[I am delighted to meet you again, Ms Norman,]’ I said. ‘[And my name is still Skvorecky.]’
It looked for a moment as if she might cry. ‘[I am sorry,]’ she said, bleakly. ‘[I am struggling to get the hang of Russian surnames.]’
‘[There is no need to apologise.]’ Feeling awkward standing over her, I sat myself on the corner of the settee. ‘[I was sorry to hear of the death of your friend, Mr Coyne.]’
‘[He told me, you know,]’ she replied.
‘[He?]’
‘[Jim. He said it would be dangerous. He warned me he could die. I pooh-poohed him.]’
‘[You,]’ I asked, after a pause, ‘[did what?]’
‘[I dismissed what he said.]’
‘[Ah!]’
‘[But he was right! Oh, the poor foolish man.]’
‘[Please accept my commiserations.]’
She looked straight at me. ‘[I have been sitting here in wonderful Mr Saltykov’s flat, just thinking and thinking about it. Do you know, I barely knew Jim? I knew him a little from the Church, of course. But I was never very close to him. And now he is dead, I find myself more upset in principle than in actuality. Does that sound heartless?]’
‘[Of course not,]’ I said.
‘Remember,’ said Saltykov, coming into the room, ‘don’t tell her about the death of Lunacharsky. If she discovers that Lunacharsky is dead, she could go all to pieces.’
‘[What’s that?]’ she said, looking up. ‘[What was that about Mr Lunacharsky?]’
‘You idiot,’ I snapped. ‘If you didn’t want her to hear about Lunacharsky, why did you mention Lunacharsky.’
‘She does not speak Russian!’ Saltykov objected, in a surprised tone of voice.
‘You may be surprised to hear,’ I retorted, ‘that the English for Lunacharsky is Lunacharsky.’
‘[What are you saying about wonderful Mr Lunacharsky?]’
‘[Ms Norman,]’ I said. ‘[Mr Lunacharsky is unable to join us right now.]’
‘You mentioned his name!’ objected Saltykov. ‘What are you doing? Are you telling her that Lunacharsky is dead? I told you not to tell her that Lunacharsky is dead!’
‘[I have only picked up a few words in Russian, I regret to confess, in my time here,]’ said Dora, in a low voice, ‘[but doesn’t smertz mean dead?]’
‘[I’m afraid so, Ms Norman,]’ I told her, glowering at Saltykov. I essayed a mournful face, but my face is not a very flexible organ.
‘[How dreadful! Your friend!]’
‘[It is regrettable, yes,]’ I said. ‘[But he was hardly my friend. I met him for the first time yesterday.]’
‘[Oh.]’
‘[Our situation is precarious, here in Moscow, and I’m afraid we must get out. I do not seek to alarm you. But you ought to know that not only the police but also the KGB have become involved.]’
‘[Oh my,]’ she said.
‘What are you saying?’ said Saltykov, hovering awkwardly by the door. ‘What are you telling her?’
‘I’m saying we need to get out of Moscow.’
‘And so we must,’ he agreed. ‘Just as long as you’re not telling her that Lunacharsky is dead.’
‘[Kiev,]’ said Dora. ‘[It must be Kiev.]’
‘[I would prefer to take you to the American embassy here in Moscow, my dear Ms Norman,]’ I said.
‘[We entered the USSR via Ukraine. The terms of the visa are very clear. I won’t be allowed out from Russia — only from the Ukraine.]’
‘[Going to the Ukraine, Ms Norman, will not protect you from the KGB. Only last year President Shcherbytsky reaffirmed the close bonds between the Ukraine SSR and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. The jurisdiction of the KGB is…]’
‘[Nevertheless, I must get to the US embassy in Kiev,]’ she insisted. ‘[Can you do that?]’
‘[You are quite sure that is what you want?]’
‘[I’m serious, Mr Koreshy. If you leave me in Moscow, the Russians will block my leaving the country on the grounds that my travel permit was for the Ukraine only. They will request I be handed over to their law enforcement officers.]’
‘[The American embassy here would never hand you over!]’
‘[Perhaps not. But I could spend years sitting around the embassy building. Get me to Kiev; I’ll be on a jet to New York in a day. Please!]’
‘What is she saying?’ Saltykov wanted to know.
‘She wants to go to Kiev.’
‘But of course we must go to Kiev! Where else would we go?’
‘What on earth do you mean? Why not Finland, or the Crimea?’
‘Kiev! Of course Kiev! Didn’t Coyne explain to you?’
‘[Is it far?]’ put in Dora. ‘[Is it too far to drive?]’
‘[It is about as far from here as Madrid is from Paris,]’ I told her. ‘[Which is to say, in American terms…]’ But my knowledge of American geography was too rudimentary for me to call to mind a comparison. ‘[Well as far as between any two American cities that are as far apart from one another as Madrid is from Paris,]’ I concluded lamely.
‘You and I are going to Kiev,’ said Saltykov emphatically. ‘Let us take her too.’
‘And why are you and I going to Kiev?’ I asked him.
‘Didn’t Coyne explain to you?’
‘He did not.’
‘Because we are the only ones left,’ he replied.
‘Left to do what?’
‘The others are dead,’ he said. ‘If we don’t get to Reactor Four at Chernobyl it will be exploded, and many millions will die. Which would be a regrettable turn of events.’
‘Regrettable indeed. You’re sure?’
‘Of course!’
‘I thought Lunacharsky knew the details, and you did not.’
‘Oh I know about the attack on Chernobyl. I know about that!’
‘Who is going to attack it?’
‘The aliens.’
‘I see. And why are they going attack this nuclear facility?’
‘That,’ said Saltykov, ‘I don’t know. Presumably in order to make war upon humankind’