Ralph Peters (63 page)

"
Second,
"
Valya said icily.

He made a tick in his notebook.
"
No matter. You aborted the child with which you had been impregnated by a public criminal. For whom you did . . . favors. Favors of the most questionable sort.
"
The officer looked up from his papers, bright-eyed.
"
I don't suppose you would be interested in reviewing any of the photographs from the abortion clinic? No? Of course not. Anyway. You were
married to a Soviet Army officer. You whored all over Moscow with a black marketeer—
"

Valya caught the sudden hardening in the man's voice. And there was something else, something else. He had said something wrong—what was it? She was so tired. She could not think clearly.

"
—got pregnant, aborted, then dropped your carcass into bed with a foreign spy. Without remuneration, of course.
"

"
What?
"

The officer appeared genuinely surprised at her outburst.

"
What foreign spy?
"
Valya cried. She felt a terrible chill slither over her skin. The word
spy
had been haunted into her consciousness, into the genes of her race. The lonely syllable made her instantly afraid.

"
Why, what should I call your American?
"

"
He's ... he's a businessman.
"
Even now, she wondered if he was waiting for her at the hotel. They had an appointment for dinner at eight o'clock. Had she seen a way, she would have burst free and caught a bus or a trolley . . . she would have even run all the way ... to hurl herself into Ryder's arms, and into the embrace of the hopes he represented.

The interrogator laughed. He positively shook. Reaching clumsily for his glasses, he took them off so that he could dab at his tiny eyes.

"
Oh, Valya,
"
he said.
"
My little Valya. Surely, you don't expect me to believe that you—that
you
, of all people—could be so naive?
"

Valya looked at him in confused horror.

"
Why, my little angel,
"
he continued,
"
your latest customer—excuse me, your latest
lover
—is a warrant officer in the United States Army. A reconnaissance man, no less. Oh, Valya, you have to be more careful. You need to construct better stories to cover your tracks.
"

Valya sat. Frozen. Oh, no. No, no, no, no,
no.

"
Now why don't you just tell me,
"
her interrogator went on,
"
what sort of information you passed to him? What messages did your husband give you for the American?
"

"
You're mad,
"
Valya declared in an awkward, stunned voice.
"
That's insane. Why Yuri .
.
. Yuri would
never
...
"

"
I'm just trying to keep the names straight,
"
the officer said.
"
Now this particular Yuri would be your late husband?
"

Valya stopped breathing. Everything stopped. The blood had gone still in her arteries and veins. Then her eyelids blinked.

"
Yuri?
"
she said.

"
Why, Valya—surely this doesn't come as a surprise? Surely you knew?
"

"
Yuri?
"

"
Oh dear. Oh, Valya. I
am
sorry. I thought you'd been informed.
"
The officer ruffled through his file of papers.
"
Now where is it? Oh, I can't believe I'm so clumsy. Forgive me. Please.
"

"
Yuri?
"

The officer looked up to meet the change in her tone. He looked genuinely ill-at-ease.
"
Of course, one understands how such oversights occur. I mean, it was, of course, quite recent. But, even in cases of espionage, one would think ... a basic respect for the decencies
...
"

"
. . . Yuri? ...
"
Valya began to sway sideward in her chair. When she closed her eyes, she smelled the ghost of the cheese sandwich on the hairs above her lip.

The officer jumped up from his chair and caught her.
"
Now, now,
"
he said.
"
This must be a terrible shock. Why, I'm almost convinced you're not mixed up in any of this.
"

"
Water, please.
"

The interrogator offered her the glass of stale tea. She sipped from it, then remembered why she had refused to drink any more. Her kidneys burned.

She tried to raise herself. But the officer's hand on her shoulder held her firmly in place.

"
Please,
"
Valya said.
"
Let me go to the toilet.
"

"
All in good time.
"
The hand pushed down ever so slightly.
"
It's not
so
urgent, is it? Just when we've almost resolved the issue of your involvement in all this.
"

She needed to go to the toilet. She tightened her loins, closing her thighs in a deadlock.

"
So, let me see if I understand all of this,
"
the interrogator said.
"
You had no idea that your husband was a traitor? That he was shot for collaborating with the enemy?
"

Valya understood nothing. He was talking to someone else now. These words bore no relation to her life whatsoever.

"
Of course, you realize that the penalty for such betrayals is
always
death?
"

Betrayals? Nothing but betrayals. But which sort of betrayals was he speaking of now? None of it made any sense. It was all madness, and it had begun when they came for her at the school. After all of her efforts at maintaining a positive image before her superiors, they had come for her right in front of the students, unceremoniously hustling her out of the classroom. She had felt sick, realizing that she would never be able to explain this away.

What was he talking about now? Espionage? Yuri? And he said that Yuri was dead. But it was impossible for Yuri to be dead. She had only been thinking of him the night before.

"
Please,
"
she said,
"
I have to go to the toilet.
"

An enormous hand smashed into the side of her face. She flew to the ground, leaving the toppled chair behind her. She felt her body slipping out of her control. Then a foot kicked her very hard in the small of the back.

She moaned. A heel ground her into the concrete floor. Then her tormentor kicked her in the rump. The force slid her across the cement. But the boot followed her. The officer kicked her again. And again. In the spine. In the meager fat of her buttocks. Kicking through the fabric. Wet fabric. The hard toes hunted at her sex.

Above her, the officer grunted. She recognized the sound. She had heard it before. Under the weight of so many men.

"
Slut,
"
the officer said. He was so short of breath he could barely produce single syllables.
"
Tramp. Whore.
"

Yes, Valya thought dreamily, waiting for the next blow. Yes. I'm a whore. And Yuri. Where was Yuri?

Her American was going to take her away.

She was late for dinner.

Suddenly, a big hand gathered her hair and yanked her upward. She thought her neck would break, almost wishing it would. The interrogator dragged her across the floor like a dead game animal, hurting her badly. His other hand grasped her, briefly passing over her breast. Then he had her from behind, by the hair and and upper arm.

He dragged her back to the table where the photographs lay. He ground her face into them, then lifted her by the hair, just far enough so that her eyes might focus. He released her arm so that he would have a free hand to peel away the layers of snapshots.

"
Look
,
"
he gasped.
"
Look. At this one. And this one.
Look at yourself
.
"

Valya began to cry. It was not he weeping of a grown woman. Nor even tears of physical pain. It was the helpless crying of a child. She sensed what was coming now. She sensed it in his hand.

"
Please,
"
she moaned.
"
Please. Please, don't.
"

The interrogator tossed her back on the floor as though discarding and empty wrapper.

"
You piece of filth,
"
he said.
"
Is that all you ever think of?
"
He strode over to her and spit on the side of her face. She had curled up like and infant, and she wept.

"
I wouldn't dream of dirtying myself with a creature like you,
"
the officer said.

"
I'm sorry for my comrade's excesses,
"
the beautifully groomed young officer told her. He reached across the table toward her face. She shied. But he was quick. He ran his fingertips along her cheek.
"
Here. Just let me have a look.
"

Valya whimpered.

"
Now, that doesn't look to bad. Nothing to mar our girls beauty,
"
the officer continued. He was handsome, obviously atretic, and
Valya sat before him in great shame. She felt destroyed. As though she belonged in a heap of garbage.

"
He's been overworked lately,
"
the young man explained.
"
What with the war and all. Moscow hasn't been a quiet place. I'm sorry if he hurt you.
"
The young man
withdrew his easy fingertips.
"
I’m sorry things got out of hand.
"

Valya sobbed into the lateness of the hour.

"
We’re not fools,
"
the young officer said brightly.
"
We know you’re not a spy. It was ridiculous for my comrade to imply anything to the contrary. Valya, would you like a cup of tea? Or anything at all?
"

"
No.
"

"
All right. I just want you to try to understand. It’s a very complex situation. To the careless observer, some of your actions might take on an ambiguous meaning. And I think you’ll admit that, now and then, you’ve been indiscreet.
"

Valya stared down into her sorrow. She was contrite. No Magdalene had ever felt so deep and genuine a contrition.

"
If anything,
"
the polished young man continued,
"
we want to help you. Now, obviously, the fact that you were married to an officer who betrayed his trust to the People— obviously, that complicates things. And then there’s the brief encounter with this American spy. Well, he’s not
exactly
a spy. That’s a slight exaggeration. And he’s gone now, anyway—left the hotel right after you did. Off to the wars,
"
he said blithely.
"
But it’s still a difficult situation. And, of course, there’s the matter of simple criminal law. Some of your adventures with Citizen Naritsky, for example. I’m afraid that, even without the slightest hint of espionage or the like, well, I’m afraid the law demands a certain level of satisfaction.
"

The young man stared at Valya as though waiting for her to help him out. She sat there trying to feel a better, truer sorrow at the news of Yuri’s death. But it would not come. Yuri had been nothing but a tool to her. She recognized that now. She had been bad. But she was sorry. She was sorry for all of the things she had done. She was sorry for every scrap of joy she had ever felt. But she could not feel sufficiently sorry for Yuri.

"
Valya,
"
the young man said almost tenderly,
"
I simply can’t bear the thought of sending you to prison.
"

Valya looked up.

"
Simply couldn't bear it,
"
the officer went on.
"
Why, by the time you were done sitting out your sentence, those lovely looks would be gone. Long gone, I'm afraid. And it would be a shame to waste them on the sort of women one encounters in our prison system. I'm afraid we're a bit behind the West in prison reform. Are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea?
"

Valya shook her head. Infinitely fatigued.

Prison?

"
But don't worry,
"
the young man continued.
"
I think I see a way out of this. Valya,
"
he said gently, flattering her with his eyes,
"
you really are a lovely woman. Even now, like this. I'm certain that you could be very helpful to us.
"

Valya looked up into the young officer's eyes. They were deep and glittering. The sort of eyes with which she would have been delighted to flirt once upon a time. Now they filled her with a horror she could not confine in words.

"
I
just...
I just wanted to have some sort of life,
"
she said meekly.

The young man smiled warmly.