The Longest Pleasure (17 page)

Her driver had come round the car to escort her up the snow-covered steps, to where the outer door was already opened, and. Tigran Dus, without a coat, was smiling and reaching for her hands, to draw her into the warmth of the vestibule. She pulled off her gloves, and he squeezed her fingers, kissed her on each cheek.

'Helena Petrovna. Am I still your favourite ogre?'

‘
You are being very kind, Comrade Colonel'

"But you are still suspicious.' He led her along a tiled passageway, showed her into a lift. The attendant clicked his heels, pressed the button. The machinery whirred softly. 'Now, you understand that Alexander Petrovitch is in a psychiatric ward. There are certain safeguards in such a ward. Not for Alexander, of course. But he is not the only patient.'

"Yes, Comrade Colonel. I understand.' He was gazing at her, and Tigr
an Dus's gaze was hard to meet.
- 'Why do you look after Alexander so?'

Tigran Dus smiled, and the lift doors opened. 'I look after all of my men, Helena Petrovna.'

She turned her head; his fingers were tight on her elbow. 'Then I must congratulate you, Comrade Colonel. I never thought you could succeed.'

'I always succeed, Helena Petrovna. This is pompous, but true, fortunately. It is my business to succeed, or I would not hold my rank. Is that not correct?'

"Yes. Does this mean that Alexander is no longer a soldier?'

'He is more of a soldier than ever. Compared with the Fourth Bureau, the men in the line are sloppy moujiks.' 'But he will be safer with you.'

'There is that point. Although he will certainly work harder.
Are you confessing that you will
now support the project?'

The passed two female nurses, very trim, very correct, perhaps even pretty, except for the hardness of their faces, the professional disinterest with which they glanced at Helena, the suspicion rather than the envy with which they noted the coat on her arm.

'I would like Alexander to be safe,' she said. 'I am glad about that. I am afraid of his being turned into a policeman. To policemen the rest of us are a different species, of which they disapprove.'

'Do you really think so?' Tigran Dus paused at a white door, turned the handle. 'I do assure you that you are wrong, Helena Petrovna. Policemen are trained to be suspicious, perhaps. But once that suspicion is allayed, you will find no better friends.'

She glanced at him, and flushed. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. She thought, This man is old enough to be my father. And discovered she was excited. For the first time in thirteen years. 'Alexander!'

He sat up in bed and smiled at her. He was thinner than when she had last seen him, but this was understandable. And there was now definitely grey in his hair as there were shadows under his eyes. But these too were natural. Of his health there could be no doubt. His fingers were warm and dry, his breath sweet, his kiss assured; his pyjamas were freshly laundered. 'Helena. How good to see you.'

'I have brought you chocolates. Are you allowed chocolates?'

'He is allowed anything he wishes.' Tigran Dus brought up a chair for her, took her coat and hat in exchange.

She sat down with a faint air of surprise. She had expected a ward, severe conditions; she had not been in hospital since little Alexander. But this was a private room, with its own washbasin, and carpeting on the floor. Only the barred window reminded her that she was not in a luxury apartment. But the barred window increased the feeling that she had moved out of her own, uneventful world into something different. Something exciting. 'You seem very comfortable.'

'I am very comfortable,' he said. 'Mind you, I have only recently been moved here. Before then I was in a different room. Not quite so nice.' He was smiling, but not at her. At Tigran Dus. And for the first time that she could remember Tigran Dus looked uncomfortable. No, not uncomfortable.

Watchful. 'But now that
I
am truly o
n the road back to recuperation’
Alexander said,
'I
have been given the best room in the hospital. But that is not all, Helena. When
I
am
fully recovered I am being sent on a tour of England.'

'And perhaps of one or two other countries as well,' Tigran Dus said. 'A goodwill mission, you know. They are helpful to East-West relations, and Alexander Petrovich is an international figure now.' He smiled at them. 'And now
I
will leave you for a few moments.
I
am sure you have a great deal to talk about.'

The door closed, and there was silence in the room. Helena gazed at her brother. How well do I know him? she wondered. How much damage has already been done? 'Tell me what happened?'

'I have not been well. Now I am recovered.'

"You are not the sort of man to have a breakdown, Alexander.'

'Is there
that
sort of a man, Helena?'

But she could no longer aff
ord to be put off by his secret
iveness. She moved to sit beside him on the bed, lowered her voice to a whisper. 'Listen! You must not work for Colonel Dus. He and his kind are vicious, and you must not become vicious.'

Galitsin's smile was sad. 'I have no choice.'

'Because you are a soldier? You have sheltered behind that reasoning for too long.'

'Not for that reason.'

'Because if you do not he will punish you? I do not know what happened in Budapest, what happened the first time you were there, Alexander, but I know you did not go mad. So you got into trouble, and Colonel Dus is holding that over you. You must reject him. You must reject everything, if you are forced to.'

Galitsin sighed. 'Do you not think
I
want to, Helena? You know, he is sending me to England. Do you not think the idea came to me, immediately...'

'Of course. You must stay there.'

'You
are asking
me
to desert the Soviet Union?'

'You will be deserting the Soviet Union the moment you go to work for Tigran Dus. And it would simply be a matter of making a choice as to which of your two nationalities is better for you. You are already half British.'

Galitsin frowned.
'I
would never have expected to hear you speaking like this. Do you think like this?' 'Sometimes. Often. It is what Mother wished.' 'I cannot believe that.'

'It is the truth, Alexander. She used to talk to me, because I was smaller, and she imagined I could not understand. So she talked, and I listened, and remembered. After they took her father she hated the Soviet. She loved Russia, she loved communism, the idea of socialism. But she hated the way it was practised in the Ukraine. She only stayed because of her love for Papa. After he died, it was too late, because of the war. But she wanted us to leave here, when we could.'

'Us.'

‘
You now, because it is urgent for you.
I
cannot leave Ewfim and die boys.'

You have discussed this with Ewfim?'

Her face closed, and she moved away from him. 'Of course not. Ewfim would not understand. Don't worry, there is time for me, and for the boys, too. I would not leave without them. But they have to be older, to know what they are doing. You have to act now, Alexander. This will be your only opportunity.'

Galitsin's fingers closed on hers. 'It is not possible, Helena, even could I convince myself that it was right. Do you not understand why you are here?'

'To help persuade you to be a good agent for the Fourth Bureau. Colonel Dus trusts me.'

'Colonel Dus does not even trust himself. You are here to remind me of what I'm leaving behind, Helena. You are to be a hostage for my good behaviour.'

'What nonsense. How can I be held responsible for what you do?'

"You will be.'

'What about Olga Kasperska? Her husband went to Paris on a business trip and never came back. Nothing happened to Olga. She even married again.'

'That was a business trip. This will be an assignment for the Fourth Bureau. It is a matter of security. It is a matter of Colonel Dus. The whole business has been arranged by him. He is manipulating us like a puppeteer, and when he is ready he will just let go of the strings.'

Helena Isbinska's face lit up as if someone had turned a switch. 'Then undoubtedly you must stay in England.' 'And send you to prison?'

Helena Isbinska laughed. There is no possibility of that happening, Alexander. Tigran Dus is in love with me. Can you not see that?'

'Men like Dus do not love, Helena.'

'Everyone loves, Alexander. Those who attempt to reject it love more than anyone else. I am in no danger from Tigran Dus, believe me.'

Galitsin gazed at her, and she flushed. She could imagine what he was thinking, what he was wondering. What about Ewfim? When did betrayal of Ewfim enter your mind, Helena? When did you decide that life was too boring and unchanging to be tolerated ? Was it that day in the Lenin Hills ? Or was it even before that, even before Tigran Dus first explored you with his eyes?

'And you would accept
his
love?' Galitsin asked.

Now at last she could enjoy a secret of her very own. Helena Isbinska smiled. 'Who knows, Alexander. Who knows?'

Alan Shirley wrote in his diary. 'Page
7,035, 5th
November,
1957.
A year to the day since the end of the Suez fiasco. Perhaps I was pessimistic. Or perhaps because it has been such a good year for me personally I am able to overlook the faults here at home. Debit one credit squeeze. God knows how many serious strikes, and the British hydrogen bomb (I imagine). Credit Harold Macmillan (I think), the restoration of Anglo-U.S. relations, a splendid June, and Nancy. 'Particularly Nancy.

'News of interest, released today. A. P. Galitsin, Hero of the Soviet Union and Red Army Chess Champion, is to play at Hastings as part of a goodwill visit to this country. How very odd that there should be so much publicity given to Galitsin, that the Russians themselves should think it necessary to make an announcement on the matter, that they should be sending last year's Army Champion instead of the current holder. How very odd that Galitsin should have made such a remarkable recovery. I suspect that someone should keep an eye on Alexander Petrovitch Galitsin. But it will have to be someone the Russians would never suspect.'

3

The Agent

The
heat inside the room made the glass wall cloudy, beyon
d it, the sloping shingle beach
faded down to a slate blue sea. It occured to Galitsin that he had never before seen snow falling on to the sea. He found it fascinating to watch the flakes kiss the surface of the water, and then disappear. He wondered if they melted immediately, or if they sank into the liquid, like drops of cream in
a
cup of tea, to bob back to the surface moments later.

The empty beach and the sea were far more interesting than the interior of the room. Here all was noise and bustle, despite the large signs asking for silence, and the repeated cries of 'Ssssh!' from the various controllers. It was
a
large room, but the ceiling was low, and there were too many people. The international masters competing in the Premier tournament sat on
a
dais, separated from the hurly-burly by a rope, and had room to breathe and to move; the other sections, and there were some twenty of them, sat at long tables, elbows touching, cups of coffee confused, pencils rolling from one board to the next, exchanged pieces intermingled, while around them the spectators wandered to and fro, pointing out interesting positions and whispering their own solutions, extinguishing cigarettes and lighting others immediately. Galitsin wondered what the comments would be were someone to light up a cigarette in the Central Concert Hall while Botvinnik was playing Smyslov. Or while Galitsin had been playing Talwik, for that matter.

He brought his attention back to the board, gazed at the earnest, bespectacled face opposite him. The young man had not moved for half an hour. Galitsin glanced a
t his
score sheet. His opponent's name was Harrington. Now Harrington was going red in the face. He wished to express something, looked around the room for an interpreter. 'I speak English,' Galitsin said.

'Oh, I say.
Do
you?' Harrington had a surprisingly deep voice. 'I was thinking that perhaps we should call it a draw.'