Us Conductors (51 page)

In 1962, Clara and Robert Rockmore travelled to Moscow. At a small party, Robert mentioned Termen’s name. Agents had come in the night, Rockmore said, and kidnapped the scientist. “Oh,” replied an acquaintance, “Termen lives near Lubyanka.”

Clara was seen to faint.

Friends arranged a reunion. The next day, three people met on a subway platform, under the city. Strangers brushed past. Robert’s arm was over Clara’s shoulder. Termen looked at them without speaking. “Scientists are not supposed to meet with foreigners,” he said at last. “We are being watched.”

That night, Clara and Robert attended a play at the Bolshoi Theatre. During the intermission, they descended the steps to the street. Termen was waiting in a taxi. They drove together to his home.

Robert and Clara sat on a hard divan. Termen stood with Maria, his wife. Outside, it was raining. His daughters played violin. The lamplight fell at strange angles.

Robert died in 1963, slipping on ice.

Maria died in 1970, of heart disease.

In 1991, Lev came to New York and met with Clara. He was ninety-five.

He died two years later.

This book is a work of fiction. It is full of distortions, elisions, omissions, and lies. Termen was not a murderer. As far as we know, he did not practise kung-fu. Anyone seeking the true tale of Termen’s life must read Albert Glinsky’s meticulously researched
Theremin: Ether Music and Espionage
, to which this novel owes an enormous debt. I was only able to play fast and loose with the facts because Glinsky had already so patiently, assiduously, tracked them down.

Us Conductors
is also particularly indebted to Stephen Graham’s dazzling
New York Nights
, published in 1927; to Chad Heap’s
Slumming
; to Anne Applebaum’s
Gulag
; Gustaw Herling’s
A World Apart
; and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s beautiful, terrible,
In the First Circle
. The epigraph for the second part comes from Michael Solomon’s
Magadan
. Thank you also to Steven M. Martin for his 1993 documentary,
Theremin: An Electronic Odyssey
.

Bolshoe spasiba
to Sergey Kolesnikov, Alexander Zaitsev, Natasha Yarushkina, and Andrey Smirnov, director of the Moscow Conservatory’s Theremin Center. Also to my hosts Ivan Cherniavsky in Moscow, Vanya Zhuk in St. Petersburg, and the incomparable Maxim Litvinov and Natasha Kotelnikova in Magadan.

I would also like to thank:

Mollie B. Casey, who introduced me to the story of Lev and Clara, without whom this novel would never have been written.

My parents, Jan and Arlen Michaels, and my sister, Robin Michaels, for more than I will ever remember.

The extended Michaels and Bornstein families, especially: Isaiah Michaels and Jean Bornstein, whom I miss very much; Anne Michaels (for 100 years of inspiration); Jeff Walker; and Jason Bornstein (for chemical know-how).

Dan Beirne, the first person to read this book. He and Jordan Himelfarb, my partners at the music blog
Said the Gramophone
, have taught me more about writing, and listening, than almost anybody else. I am also grateful to our readers over the past eleven years, who wrote, and listened, and who made a small website mean something.

My friends, in particular Maryam Ehteshami, Neale McDavitt-van Fleet, Raphaëlle Aubin, Kit Malo, the novelist Andrew Ladd, Adam Waito, Miranda Campbell, Stephen Ramsay, Catherine McCandless, François Vincent, Basia Bulat, Alexandre Lenot, Marc Rowland (for kung-fu know-how), Helen Ashton and Ramsay Jackson.

The writers whose wisdom, kindness and advice allowed me to come to this place: soul gazers Melissa Bull, Anna Leventhal, Jeff Miller and Michelle Sterling; Carl Wilson; Julian Smith (“also, Information Market”); Drew Nelles; Elisabeth Donnelly; and Pasha Malla.

My fine editors, Anne Collins, Meg Storey and Amanda Lewis.

The Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec, the Canada Council for the Arts, and Emploi-Québec’s
Jeunes volontaires
program.

The kings of the morning: Vince Spinale and everyone at Café Olimpico, and Vito Azzue, now of Café Vito.

My inspiring, steadfast agent, Meredith Kaffel.

And Thea Metcalfe, indescribable, who has changed all the weather.