The Ice Curtain (19 page)

Nowek walked over to a glass display case.

Inside it, bathed in spotlights, big rough crystals sparkled against black velvet. They couldn't be real, not sitting behind just a thin sheet of glass.

The stones had names.
The Larisa Popugayeva
was the biggest at a full 336 carats, followed by the
Pushkin
at 320 carats. Next the
Star of Yakutia,
the diamond Boyko said was found in a rubble pile, at 304 carats. There was even a
Twenty-Sixth Party Congress
stone. It was a lumpy, egg-shaped chunk with a crack up one side. Someone had a sense of humor, though back then he'd probably been shot for it.

“Delegate Nowek!”

He turned. Larisa Arkova was hurrying in his direction, long legs striding, feet kicking forward, awkward in her heels. Her neck was flushed. She swept a loose strand of hair off her forehead. “I'm sorry to be late. There was an accident at the pit.”

“The Sib-Auto engineer.”

“He wasn't from Sib-Auto. Director Kirillin called Irkutsk to inform the company. They had no one on today's flight.”

Nowek was surprised. That she knew. That she was willing to say. “Perhaps this is not the best time to meet with the mine director.”

“No, please. It's all been arranged. We can wait for him in his office. Would you follow me?” She turned away and began walking to the stairs, her heels making that familiar, determined rhythm, one that allowed for no disagreement, no indecision, no alternative.

The elevators each had a sign that read,
NE RABOTAYET
. Not working. Finally a detail amidst the cool, uncluttered lobby that made Nowek feel like he was still in Russia.

“I understand you were once a geologist,” she said as she paused at the foot of the stairs. “So instead of the usual information about our mine, I prepared some notes on the history of the diamond industry. I think history can be helpful in understanding the future.”

“Do you really believe that, Miss Arkova?”

“Sure. Don't you?” She didn't wait for an answer before starting upstairs. “The first diamond pipe was mined in an open pasture at Colesberg Kopje, South Africa. That was in 1871.”

“It makes you wonder. The deserts of Africa and Australia. Northwest Canada. Siberia,” he said. “Why do diamonds show up in such places? Why not New York? Paris? Why not
Minsk
?”

“I'm sure you would know,” she said, unwilling to be drawn too far from her script. “The first South African pit was divided into approximately five hundred claims, each ten meters square with narrow borders used as access roads. As the claims went deeper, the roads became less dependable. Kimberlite is not well suited to bearing heavy traffic or loads. The roads collapsed. Mine claims were buried.”

“But no miners?”

“Loss of life is expected under unregulated conditions.”

“The pit here is safer?”

“The period of individual claims was marked by irrational development. When Cecil Rhodes acquired all the holdings in 1889, those problems vanished. The company he formed was named for the farmer who owned the original pasture. De Beers.”

Their slow ascent seemed carefully timed. He felt obligated to throw her timing off. “Have you ever met someone from the cartel?”

“An Oppenheimer. The young one. Nicky. They call him the Cuban because he wears a bushy beard. To be honest, he seemed unhappy.”

“All that wealth must be a great responsibility.”

“I suppose he was unhappy in his own way.” Her steps came fractionally faster, as though to make up for lost time.

“You like Chekhov?”

“You mean Tolstoy.
Happy families are all alike, but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
Or am I wrong?” She knew she was right and dared him to deny it.

He didn't. Couldn't. “What keeps you in Mirny? The bracing winters? You're a skier? A student of permafrost construction?”

“My husband was hired by Kristall.”

“So it was love.”

“He's been in Angola for the last three years.”

“So much for love. My daughter once said she would do anything to get out of Russia. I told her it wasn't so easy. She did it anyway.”

That stopped her. Her expression opened slightly. “How?”

“A student visa. She's in America.”

“But how was it arranged? You have to be sponsored.”

“She was. I have an American friend. Her name is Anna.”

Larisa seemed honestly excited, as though Nowek had gone shopping for soap powder and discovered a cache of chocolates hidden behind the box. “Maybe she would sponsor you, too.”

“She offered,” said Nowek. “I turned her down.”

Larisa stood by a closed door. She knocked on it, then took hold of the knob. “So much for love,” she said with a smile, and opened it.

Chapter 19

The Mine Director

“Director Kirillin? I'm Gregori—”

“I know your name.” Kirillin had a telephone pressed to his ear. His hand covered the mouthpiece. “Now I'm learning who you
are
. Give me a moment. I wouldn't want to miss anything.”

His name might be Russian but the mine director looked like a Korean businessman, dressed in a silver-gray suit, white shirt, and striped tie. In his mid-forties, the native Yakut had nut-brown skin, a black helmet of hair streaked with silver, and the compact, muscular frame of a boxer. With his telephone, his brace of pens, Kirillin could have stepped out of the pages of
To the Diamond Frontier!

Nowek looked for a place to sit. No chairs. Apparently, Kirillin wasn't fond of long meetings.

There was a bookshelf with volumes so neatly arrayed you knew they hadn't been touched in years. There wasn't a hint of anything personal, anything that suggested a world beyond the immediate grasp of the mine director. A map of the Mirny pit occupied one wall. A polished silver hard hat hung from a peg. Next to it, an overcoat smeared with grease. A window framed a view of drab concrete walls. A snowflake tumbled by.

“That's the general view of the situation,” said Kirillin. He glanced up at Nowek. “When can I see a copy of the decree?”

Nowek thought,
There are two kinds of meetings in Russia.
The first, when something is actually expected to happen. There will be a table covered in green baize, one glass for water that no one will touch, one for syrupy sweet soft drinks for sipping, and a small tumbler for endless congratulatory rounds of iced vodka.

Then there is this kind of meeting.

“Tomorrow is soon enough,” said Kirillin. “We have weather coming in. Yes. I know. It's Mirny.
Pakah.
” Kirillin hung up and pushed back from his desk like a man finishing a meal. “You were with Boyko a long time.”

“Like you, I didn't want to miss a thing.”

A quick flash of anger radiated from the mine boss, then vanished. Kirillin pressed a buzzer on his phone and said, “Bring in a chair for Delegate Nowek.”

Outside, the snowflakes fell like fat confetti dumped from an upper-story window. “It's snowing.”

“It can snow any month of the year in Mirny. You found Boyko informative?”

“Not especially. But I found him reliable.”

Kirillin turned slightly, as though trying to catch a faint sound with a bad ear. “Reliable?”

“Like DRAGA 1,” Nowek explained. “He told me how long it's been at work.”

“Decades.”

“And how the American machine broke days after it arrived.”

“He said the Caterpillar
broke
?”

“It didn't?”

“It was sabotaged. You want to know why? There was an instrument on it, a kind of a clock that measured the hours of operation. You couldn't run it four hours and get paid for eight, so Boyko's men made sure it didn't run at all. That's how reliable he is.”

“Well, he didn't go into details.”

“Allow me to,” said Kirillin. He nodded at the phone. “That was Moscow. Nobody seems to know why you were appointed to be the new Delegate. Or what you're doing here, for that matter.”

“I was appointed by President Yeltsin to take Delegate Volsky's place. I'm here to fulfill his obligations.”

“The Kremlin Chief of Staff doesn't know your name.”

The Kremlin Chief of Staff was the former mayor of Mirny.
Why had Nowek not remembered that until now? “The Kremlin can be a complicated place.”

“I'd also like to hear how a man the Moscow militia charged with murder manages to become Siberian Delegate.”

“Moscow is a complicated place, too.”

Kirillin eyed Nowek with the look of a man seeing a natural enemy. “Mirny isn't so complicated. Here, you are trusted or not. I don't trust you. There were two serious breaches in security today. One was your fault, and the other one might be, too.”

“What breaches?”

“A man with false documents arrived on the—”

Two shy knocks came from the door, as though someone was worried it was booby-trapped, as though it might explode.

“Come!”

Larisa brought another chair in, slid it to Nowek, smiled, glanced at Kirillin, then left without saying a word.

“Did you have a problem finding our headquarters building?”

Nowek shook his head. “None.”

“I'm surprised. It was your driver's first day on the job.”

Nowek thought,
That breach.
“He had a good sense of direction.”

“He got one of our employees drunk, took his identity credentials, and then stole his van. Did you think it wouldn't be discovered?”

Not this quickly.
Nowek asked, “Where is Chuchin?”

“We're holding him downstairs in case he feels like stealing something else. As for the regular driver, he's been fired. You have yourself to blame. He'll be sent out on the first available flight.”

“Maybe he'll be able to join his wife now.”

Kirillin cocked his head. “You collect odd pieces of information.”

“You never know when something will turn out to be useful.”

“You'll find these useful.” He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out two paper vouchers. He waved them at Nowek. “Two passes out of Mirny on a special flight to Moscow. As soon as the snow is cleared from the runway tomorrow, you will leave.”

“I have no reason to travel to Moscow.”

“You will. As Siberian Delegate, you had special privileges. . . .”

“I still have them.”

“Excuse me. A decree is being prepared by the same Presidential Administration that appointed you. Your nomination will be rescinded tomorrow. When that happens, you will have no official standing and no official immunity. Mirny is a closed city. It requires permission from Kristall to stay. I can promise you that permission will not be forthcoming.” Kirillin held out the vouchers. “Well?”

Nowek didn't touch them. “And if I stay?”

Kirillin tossed them to the desk. “The Moscow militia requested we hold you until they send someone out. If you're here without immunity, I'll have no choice but to comply with this request.”

Nowek eyed the vouchers. Leave tomorrow for Moscow and hope Levin could keep the militia off his back, or end up in a cell here until Kirillin decided to send him to Moscow in chains.
Where was Levin?
“What about Chuchin?”

“If you stay, there are additional charges of theft to consider.”

Nowek reached over and took the vouchers.

“My opinion of you rises,” said Kirillin. He checked his watch. “Lunch is being served at the hotel. If you hurry, you'll find a table.”

“I should probably work on my report first.”

“Report?”

“The one Volsky was going to write about conditions in Mirny.”

“You've only been here a few hours. What could it say?”

Nowek stood. “That a diamond mine that's supposed to be the source of a quarter of the world's gems can't be.”

Kirillin's face was a perfect, impassive mask. “How did you come to such a fantastic conclusion?”

“Like you, I keep things simple. The cartel is buying Mirny diamonds? They didn't come from your pit.”

“No gem rough has been sold to the cartel in a year.”

“No gem rough was sent to Moscow, either.”

“Then why did our shipping manifests say otherwise?”

“I was wondering about that, too. I'd like to speak with the person who made out those manifests.”

“Take it from me. There is no crime in Mirny.”

“Well, that's reassuring. Then there's the ore plant. Fabrika 3. I think Moscow would want to know what happened.”

“Some drunk miners in a stolen ore truck? Moscow has better things to worry about.” Kirillin reached into his desk drawer. He took out a pack of Marlboros and got one lit.

“That cigarette reminds me of Kristall's
incentive
program. The dollars you stuff into overseas accounts. I believe that's illegal under currency laws.”

Kirillin let out a long stream of smoke. “The Finance Ministry does it. The President and his family do it. Why shouldn't a simple worker have the same opportunities to get ahead?”

“There's a difference. The miners can't spend their dollars.”

Another cloud of smoke. “It's a bag of feathers. Not a report.”

“You're probably right.” Nowek started to leave.

“Wait.” Kirillin looked grave, serious, even believable. “Let no one accuse us of hiding from legitimate questions. As you said, today you're still Delegate.”

Nowek sat back down. “Four million carats of gem-quality rough is missing. Yevgeny Petrov says you filled boxes with industrial stones and kept the gems.”

“And who neglected to inspect the shipping containers for the better part of a year? I wonder. Could it be Petrov? Our view is that if Moscow lost them, it's Moscow's problem.”

“If they're lost, Kristall won't get paid. Isn't that your problem?”

“Our problem. Not yours. So? What else?”

“I'd like to see Fabrika 3.”

Kirillin considered it, then said, “The shift changes at three this afternoon. Boyko will take you through.”

“And also Mirny Deep.”

“It's been shut down.”

“I'd like to see it anyway.”

“It's unsafe.”

“I'll take the risk.”

Kirillin was about to speak when the door clicked.

Larisa Arkova came in, smiling shyly. “Yes?”

“We're finished.” Kirillin faced Nowek. “Miss Arkova can answer your questions about Mirny Deep.” Kirillin glanced at his watch. “Boyko will pick you up at the hotel at two-thirty. And don't miss your flight in the morning. I say that with your own interests in mind.”

“Please,” Larisa said to Nowek. “Won't you follow me?”

Out in the hall, Larisa went to the barred window at the end of the corridor. Gray, north light flooded the corridor. Swirling knots of snow danced across the open, deserted square. “What were you hoping to see in Mirny Deep?”

He looked down across alleys, onto a vista of dirty rooftops, plumes of steam, wood smoke. “You have a suggestion?”

She laughed, but then said, “Your daughter. What's her name?”

“Galena.”

“Like the mineral?”

Nowek looked up with his surprise.
Galina
was a common girls' name.
Galena
was a metallic, blue-gray cubic crystal of lead sulfide. “How did you know?”

“I think you like things that are unexpected.” Her whole face seemed to take on the cool radiance of the north light. “I've planned a surprise for you.”

“Mirny Deep?”

“Not that big a surprise.”