The Kremlin Letter (29 page)

The play was over and the audience applauding as Rone slipped the key into his pocket. If the colonel was waiting for him to make an appearance, Yorgi would not disappoint him.

SECTION FIVE

31

The Apartment

He walked casually. In his pocket he carried a knife he had stolen in the last restaurant he had visited that night. If Kosnov was waiting for him, he still might be able to catch him off guard. This would even the score for B.A. He had no idea how he would get into the apartment unnoticed, but for a few minutes he would at least have the satisfaction of being the hunter.

Rone also considered the possibility it wasn't a trap. Erika might have arranged it without Kosnov's knowledge. Perhaps this more than anything was what lured him there. It might be a haven after all.

Rone strolled past the building, turned up a side street, cut back and passed again from the other direction. He saw no one.

He walked around to the back entrance and tried the door. It was locked. That left only the front. He entered the small hallway and climbed the stairs to the third floor. He held the key in one hand and the knife in the other. He slipped the key quietly into the lock and cautiously opened it. The apartment was empty.

The flat consisted of a living room, a bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen. The kitchen was modern with an electric refrigerator stocked with food, a four-burner gas stove, a double aluminum sink and modern wooden cabinets filled with dishes and canned goods. In the living room was a television set, a radio and a record player as well as two modern couches, three chairs and small dining table. An Armenian rug was spread over the center of the floor. The bedroom contained two bureaus, a double bed with a wooden headboard and a second radio. It was, in Russian terms, a luxury flat.

Rone took a bath and made himself a sandwich of black bread, cheese and a processed meat that tasted like pork. He looked through the bedroom drawers. They contained a woman's clothes. An old woman.

He was exhausted; he lay down on the bed. He tried to stay awake, but he couldn't.

“Yorgi, darling, it's time to get up,” Erika said with her lips against Rone's. He opened his eyes. It was daylight. “How do you like your surprise?” she asked, handing him a glass of coffee.

“Who does it belong to?”

“Us. At least for a month. Come, tell me, do you like it?”

Rone nodded and sipped his coffee.

Erika began to undress. “When did you get here?”

“Last night.”

“Last night? Yorgi, is something wrong? Why didn't you stay at your place?”

“I was thrown out.”

“Why?”

“My work papers weren't in order. The room goes to a factory worker. Some regulation or other.”

“Then you can live here.” She threw her arms around him. “You can live here where I know where you are. I'll come every free moment and make love with you.”

“This is a dangerous flat. People can notice us too easily.”

“I'll lock us both in. We'll stay here for four whole weeks making love. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

“It's settled,” she said, nuzzling him. “The day after tomorrow I'll come live here too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The colonel's going away for a month.” Erika giggled. “And he's letting me stay in Moscow alone. Only I'm not alone, am I?”

“Where is he going?”

“To visit his mother in Yalta.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Erika was biting his ears. “We put her on the train yesterday,” she whispered.

“We? You and the colonel?”

“Hmmmm. You have exciting ears. I like biting them. I love biting and kissing your ears.”

“Erika. Was the colonel with you when you put his mother on the train?”

“Yorgi, please, no questions now. Must we always start with questions?”

“Answer me!” he said, pushing her away. “Was the colonel with you when you put his mother on the train?”

Erika rolled on her stomach and pulled a pillow over her head. “I won't answer anything until you make love to me. I'll stay under here and suffocate if I have to—but no questions first.”

“Please, Erika, it's important. Just tell me—then we can do whatever you like.”

She turned on her back in disgust, folded her hands over her breasts, and looked at the ceiling. “I met you, I gave you the key. I left you. I met the colonel at his office. We picked up his mother. We went shopping with his mother. We had a meal with his mother. We put his mother on the train. Together. He and I. One, two. One, two, three, yo, ho, ho, ho—the old girl was on the train. All right?”

Rone thought for a minute. “That means you were with the colonel from the time you left me until when?”

“I left you at noon and I was with the colonel until we went to bed at eleven. Any more questions?”

“Come here,” said Rone, reaching for her. But deep within him he heard B.A.'s final shout.

Erika was bathing. Rone lay on the bed smoking. She had not been out of the colonel's sight the entire afternoon. He had not been back to the office or even called in from noon on. But the raid took place at two o'clock. Why wasn't he concerned? Potkin must have told him the whole story. Rone knew from Erika's previous conversations that he was obsessed about the Highwayman and the missing truck. He had flown to Kara himself. Yet when he had the entire operation in his grasp he spent the day seeing his mother off. All day he had no way of knowing if the raid was successful or not. He didn't seem to care. Not only that, but he was leaving for Yalta in two days. Did that mean the others were all dead? If they were, he couldn't interrogate them; neither could anyone else. But what about Rone himself? Kosnov would certainly know that Rone was still free. Why would the colonel leave before he was captured? Rone went to the bathroom and stood beside the open door. Erika was drying her hair.

“Erika. Whose apartment is this?”

“Ours.”

“You know what I mean.”

“It's ours for one entire month. That's all that matters,” she answered happily.

“It belongs to the colonel's mother, doesn't it?”

“Not if she isn't here it doesn't.”

“How did you get the key?”

“She gave it to me.”

“Why?”

“So I could look in while she was away. That's why I was late yesterday. I stopped here to help her pack and get the key. I stopped before I met you and had a duplicate made for your present.” Erika threw her towel around Rone and pulled him to her. “Yorgi, let's take a bath together.”

“You just had one.”

“I would like another—under the right conditions.”

Rone nodded and Erika started filling the tub.

“Why is the colonel letting you stay in Moscow?”

“Because he knows I want to be alone with you.”

“Be serious.”

“I told him I was allergic to sun and swimming. If I went to Yalta with him I would be unhappy because everyone else would be on the beach and I would have to stay inside.”

“And he believed that?”

“Darling Yorgi,” Erika said, pulling him into the water with her, “the colonel
wants
to believe it. He's very much in love with me, and since I've met you, I've treated him much better. He wants to believe I care for him. He wants to believe our marriage is a good one. When a man wants to believe in something, and you encourage that belief, he'll go to great, great pains to protect his illusion.”

After they dried each other Erika prepared a meal.

“Has the colonel mentioned Potkin to you?” asked Rone.

“Who is Potkin?”

“One of his agents. I believe he works in New York.”

“Where did you find out about that?”

“From Polakov's friend. He wants to know when Potkin is expected in Moscow.”

“I'll try to find out,” she said, turning back to the stove.

32

The Falling Out

Rone spent the evening watching television and listening to records. He went to bed early and slept until Erika returned the following afternoon. After they made love he asked her about Potkin.

“Polakov's friend was right,” she announced. “Potkin is one of the colonel's agents. And he is in New York.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get the colonel to tell you?” asked Rone.

“I told him a woman in the beauty shop had asked me about him. I told the colonel she was a neighbor of Pot-kin's who had lent him some dishes and wanted to know when he would be back.”

“What did the colonel say?”

“He laughed and told me that the woman was out of luck. Potkin wasn't expected until the end of the summer.”

“When does the colonel plan to go to Yalta?” he asked.

“Tomorrow. Then we have a whole month to take baths together.”

“I don't think he should go.”

“Of course not, my darling Yorgi. We should invite him to dinner instead.”

“I'm serious.”

“And so am I, darling. Don't worry yourself. He won't be hiding somewhere to try and catch us.”

Rone pushed Erika away and held her at arm's length. “He may be in trouble.”

She stiffened. “What kind of trouble?”

“Polakov's friend says that Potkin was in Moscow two days ago. Arrests were made. A spy ring was broken up. An organization that the colonel was very interested in. Only I have a suspicion he doesn't know a thing about it. Potkin and Grodin were there—at the arrest—I don't think they told the colonel.”

Erika remained rigid. “Why do you suddenly care what happens to the colonel?”

“Because it could affect you. If he is arrested, what becomes of you?”

“I had hoped you were going to take care of me.”

“You know I will. This other thing could complicate matters, though.”

Erika turned her head. There was no longer a smile on her face. She got out of bed and walked across to the table. She lit a cigarette and stood smoking with quick nervous puffs. “Do we have enough money to leave Russia?” she asked.

“Almost.”

“What does ‘almost' mean? If we don't have enough, how short are we?”

“About five hundred rubles,” Rone answered. “But if he's arrested they might take you as well.”

Erika turned her back to Rone. She stood silently smoking. “Something has changed, hasn't it, Yorgi? You sound different. It's like someone else is talking. A person I've never met.”

“Nothing has changed.” Rone got off the bed and moved across to her. “Before, there was no danger. Now there is. I'm concerned for you.”

Erika avoided him. “Yorgi,” she said nervously, “answer a question. Did your losing your room have anything to do with those men who were arrested?”

“Of course not.”

“Answer another question.”

“Certainly.”

Erika looked straight into his eyes. Her lips were tight. “I want to leave Moscow right away. I will somehow get us the last five hundred rubles. You can have them later today, but I want to leave Russia the day after tomorrow.”

“We can't.”

“Why not?”

“Arrangements take longer than that.”

“How much longer?”

“A week. Maybe two.”

“You told me before that once we had the money it was only a matter of one or two days.”

“Things have changed. It will take longer now.”

“Nothing has changed.” Erika's gaze was hard. “You have known this from the beginning, haven't you?”

“Of course not. Things have changed, that's all. My man has to be cautious.”

Erika did not move. Her eyes were trained on Yorgi. “You're one of them, aren't you?”

“Of whom?”

“One of the men they are after. One of the men they didn't catch yesterday.”

“What are you talking about?”

Erika lowered her head and clutched her arms. Her lips parted but at first no words came out. When they did they were hardly audible. “I really think I knew all along. I'm sure I did.” She laughed gently. “What was it I said about the colonel, that he'd go to great pains to protect his illusion? Perhaps he wasn't the only one.” She went to the bureau and began dressing.

“I meant what I said. I'll take you out of the country, but we have to wait.”

Erika continued dressing.

“Believe me, we will leave the country—it could be only a matter of weeks. If we're lucky,
days.
”

“You don't understand me.” She stood facing him, fully clothed. “I still love you, Yorgi—or whatever your name is—but that doesn't stop me from despising you. In time that love might weaken. I'll pray it does.”

“It couldn't be helped,” Rone said.

“Oh yes, it could. Very, very easily. You knew I loved you. You knew that, even more, I trusted you. For the first time in my adult life I truly trusted. I accepted you as I first met you—in not the most noble of occupations, because I didn't care what you did or who you were—you knew that. I asked only one thing, that my love, my trust not be destroyed. There was only one way you could have done that—and you found it. I thought that you were speaking the truth to me. It's that simple. I was sure I had found the one person who would speak the truth to me. I'm tired, Yorgi, so tired of living in a world full of lies. I want only honesty and love. Was that so much to ask?”

Rone went to Erika and took her by the arms. She looked into his face impassively.

“I'm sorry—it won't happen again.”

Erika shook her head. “It's too late. Something has died, you see. You could say you loved me a thousand times and I couldn't believe you. They're only words now—now that I know who you are, or at least
what
you are. I'm sure you're very good at what you do; you'd have to be to fool me. I've had a lot of experience with your fellow workers—Polakov, Kosnov, and others too. To be good in your field you have to lie. The truth must have no meaning at all—otherwise you are dead.”