The Turning (11 page)

Mama had asked, “Papa, why the worried look? Your Yeltsin is president of Russia and gaining in popularity every day.”

Grandfather replied, “The stronger Yeltsin gets, the more the old guard in the Communist party plot to get rid of him and take the country back.”

As I was strapping on my backpack, Grandfather stopped his pacing and said, “I must have a word with you, Tanya. There is a moment each spring just before I jump into the Neva River with its chunks of ice when I think, ‘Georgi, you are a fool,’ but I take the plunge. This is such a moment. I had not wanted to involve you in something dangerous, but I must. You would not be my granddaughter if you were unwilling to take a risk to save Russia.”

“Me? Grandfather, what can you mean? What could I possibly do?” My heart skipped a beat, for I knew my grandfather could not always tell the difference between bravery and recklessness.

“Here in Leningrad phones are tapped and mail is censored. It is the same for the deputies in the parliament building in Moscow.” Grandfather gave me a long look. “If you would agree to carry a letter, Tanya, to a certain deputy in Moscow, you will be doing your country a great service. We have come to the moment when Russia’s fate will be decided. If you are reluctant to do it, you have only to tell me. I will surely understand.”

I knew there was danger—that it might be the end of my dream of escaping Russia, that I might even be arrested—but Sasha’s accusation that I was running away and betraying all that my grandparents and great-grandparents had suffered for our country still hurt. Here was an opportunity to prove him wrong. “I’ll do it, Grandfather. But will they let me into the parliament building?”

“Russian tourists sightseeing in Moscow often go there to visit the deputy from their own town to lobby for some request or other. How suspicious could anyone be of a young ballerina making a dutiful pilgrimage to the seat of the government? Here is a letter of introduction to Lev Petrovich, one of the deputies from Leningrad. There is nothing suspicious in the letter. It says only that you have a petition from his Leningrad constituents begging him to apportion more money for the training of ballet dancers, a perfectly natural request coming from you. And here is the confidential letter for Lev Petrovich, which you must guard with your life. Lev Petrovich, like me, is a Yeltsin man, and this letter will let him know the names of those he can trust here in Leningrad in the event of a coup.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “A coup!”

“An alliance of the military and the old Communists, both of whom see their power slipping away, is going to try to take over the country. Gorbachev’s days are numbered, and they know that when Yeltsin is in charge of the country, he means to get rid of the Communist party. If the alliance succeeds, we will be back to censorship and to people being dragged away from their homes in the middle of the night. When the coup comes about—and we don’t know when that will be, but it will be sooner rather than later—Lev Petrovich must know whom he can count on in Leningrad to oppose it. This letter will tell him.”

Grandfather handed me an envelope and I hastily put it into my backpack, where, flimsy as it was, it felt as heavy as a stone. I was terrified but I knew I could not let Grandfather down. “You can trust me,” I promised.

He reached into his pocket and gave me a handful of rubles. “Buy yourself something pretty in Paris,” he said. His bear hug and the look of relief on his face swept away my fears.

Grandfather offered to send me in a taxi to the Kirov theater, but it was a warm summer afternoon, and though I couldn’t tell him, I wanted to see the city one last time. As I walked along, I thought it ironic that just as I was leaving, Leningrad had never looked lovelier. Across the street from our apartment was the great semicircle of Kazan Cathedral, with its ninety-six columns and its dome topped with a golden spire. When the light was at just this slant, the shadows of the columns lay in black stripes across the cathedral square. In the canal the water shimmered gold. For a moment I did not see how I could leave the city. I knew I should be thinking only of what was ahead of me, of my escape and of Paris, but instead, there were tears in my eyes. It seemed impossible that I might never see the Prospekt again or walk along the Moika canal. The sight of the great Kirov Theater building with its magnificent entrance made my heart stand still. I saw what I would be giving up. Only the excitement of what I was carrying and the danger of my assignment in Moscow kept me from weeping.

I hurried to the back entrance, where the bus that would take us to the train station was waiting. We were like little children about to be treated to a trip to the zoo, excited at what was ahead and nervous about going out into the big world. Vera and Vitaly gave me big hugs, and even Marina winked at me. The backbiting and competitiveness were gone. We were the lucky ones, and on us depended the reputation of the Kirov. In the excitement I forgot for a moment what I must do as soon as I reached Moscow. That is, I forgot until I noticed a strange man and woman standing beside our bus.

“Who are they?” I asked Vitaly.

“Secret police agents from the KGB,” Vitaly said. “They always accompany groups when they leave Russia. Never mind them. We have nothing to hide.”

Guiltily I exchanged looks with Vera, who appeared to be pale and subdued. “Tanya, don’t look in the direction of those agents, but I’m worried they know something about me.”

“What do you mean?” Surely they couldn’t read our minds and know we were planning to defect to France.

“Yeltsin has the government looking into my father’s business.”

I had long guessed that the Chikovs’ money came from some enterprise. Now I remembered how Grandfather had said that Yeltsin was cleaning up graft and corruption. “Surely that won’t affect you,” I said.

Vera shrugged. “I’ll tell you more later.”

Madame, dressed in a new suit and, miracle of miracles, wearing nylon stockings and high heels, gathered us like chickens and shepherded us onto the bus. At the last moment Maxim Nikolayevich hurried out of his Volga and clambered on board, a new silk scarf twisted dramatically about his neck; he was wearing some sort of jaunty beret that was meant to look Parisian. The bus took us down the Prospekt; past our apartment building; past the Gostiny Dvor, Leningrad’s department store, where I had wandered a hundred times picking out things I longed for but for which I never had the money; past the monument of Catherine the Great; across the Anichkov Bridge with its great bronze horses; past the bookstores where Sasha and I had looked for bargains, and at last to the Moscow station.

At the station everything was chaos. A hundred trains roared in and out each day. People pushed us out of the way, while the KGB agents stood to one side watching and Madame and Maxim Nikolayevich ran about keeping us in line. At last we settled into our compartments, stacking our suitcases and backpacks on the overhead racks. To save money we were traveling second class, so there would be no bunks to sleep on. For dinner there was a snack bar with sandwiches and soda. The good news was that the KGB agents were traveling first class.

With the agents a safe two railway cars away, Vera took me aside. “The government has sent men into Papa’s office to examine his books. I know, Tanya, that Papa buys and sells where he shouldn’t buy and sell, but still he is my papa and I’m worried. Just before we left, he gave me some jewelry to take to Paris. I’m to sell it. When I saw the KGB agents, I thought they were after me, but Madame said they always go on such trips.

“That is not the most important news,” Vera went on, her voice now in a whisper. “Papa and Mama are making plans to escape to Paris as well. They know they won’t be allowed to bring anything valuable with them—that’s why they gave the jewelry to me.”

All I could think of was how heartless the Chikovs were to put Vera in so risky a position. It was true that I, too, was taking a chance in carrying the letter for Grandfather, but that was in a noble cause; the Chikovs were endangering Vera only for money.

Vitaly called, “What are you two whispering about? You’re missing all the sights.” After that, to avoid suspicion Vera and I joined the others. For most of us in the troupe it was our first trip out of Leningrad. The August evening was hot, and we opened the windows and leaned out to see the scenery, getting cinders in our eyes and letting soot into the compartment. It was a wonder to have the country fly by, but by midnight the novelty of the trip had worn off and the compartment quieted. We curled up on the seats, resting our heads on our backpacks. Vitaly and Vera were sound asleep, but I shifted restlessly, thinking of the envelope that lay beneath my head, and of what would happen if it were discovered.

CHAPTER 10

TANKS IN THE STREET

At eight in the morning, yawning and stretching, we hurried off of the train and onto the bus that would take us to our Moscow hotel. We pushed against one another to get next to a window and view the city we had heard so much about. Moscow was larger and busier than Leningrad, with wide streets crowded with automobiles. Madame pointed out the Bolshoi Theater, and we all agreed it was not as handsome as the Kirov. Suddenly the Kremlin was in front of our eyes. How we stared. The Kremlin had started out as an ancient fortress whose towered brick walls still stood. Behind the walls were the buildings we knew from our school days, when every child learned about the Kremlin. We saw Assumption Cathedral with its brightly colored domes and the bell tower of Ivan the Great. Inside Red Square was the Lenin mausoleum where Lenin lay preserved in his glass coffin like some exotic tidbit in a jar.

In front of the Kremlin I could see a part of Red Square with the cathedral of St. Basil the Blessed and another great cathedral that had been turned into the State History Museum. Just ahead of us was the platform where each year, on the anniversary of the revolution, Stalin had stood to review miles of soldiers and weapons. Vitaly asked, “Tanya, what’s wrong? You look a little green.”

“I’m just carsick,” I said. “First the train and then the bus.” I wasn’t carsick at all. I was frightened of what I had agreed to do. Though Stalin had been dead for nearly forty years, just the thought of how he had sent millions to their deaths for opposing him both frightened me and made me more sure than ever that I must carry out my promise to Grandfather. But the city was so large. How would I get from our hotel to the parliament building? The task seemed impossible.

The bus was traveling along the Moscow River and passing a large green space. “Gorky Park,” Madame said. “And here on Novy Arbat Street is our hotel. The tall building over there is the trade center, and just beyond it that huge white building is the parliament, where Yeltsin and our deputies are at work. Now everyone off the bus, and don’t forget to look around to be sure you have all your things.”

The parliament building was right there in front of me! I had no excuse now for not delivering the letter. I hugged my backpack to me and followed the others off the bus. The first chance I had, I would slip out of my room and head for the parliament. The sooner I got it over with, the sooner I could breathe again.

As we crowded into the lobby of the hotel, I felt someone fling herself at me and give me a crushing hug. “Natalia!” I cried.

“Tanya, as soon as I knew you would be staying here, I camped out in the lobby. I’ve been waiting for hours to be sure I would be here to greet you. Oh, Tanya, I am so happy. I’m in the Moscow Choreography School. The ballet mistress says I am doing well, and one day I will be sure to dance with the Bolshoi. I go everywhere in Moscow. I know a little café in the Arbat where we can have breakfast.”

“Natalia, give me a chance to catch my breath. I have been up all night. I couldn’t sleep in the train. I’ll just catch a few winks and meet you for lunch. We don’t have anything scheduled until the performance of the Bolshoi tonight.” There was nothing I wanted more than to hear of Natalia’s adventures with the Bolshoi, but I had made Grandfather a promise, and I meant to keep it.

Natalia looked like a wounded puppy. “Listen,” I said, “here is a special letter Uncle Fyodor has sent to you, and at lunch I’ll give you all the news of the shelter.” Reluctantly Natalia let me go, and I followed Vera up to the hotel room I was to share with her. I thought having a whole room just to ourselves was a miracle, but Vera complained that there was no television set and no phone. “The soap in the bathroom is cheap. Why don’t they put us up in a decent place?”

“Vera, you are spoiled. It seems like heaven to me.” Never had I had a bathroom all to myself. I thought of soaking in a lovely bath with no one pounding on the door for a turn, but I settled for splashing some water on my face. “I have to run out for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll come with you. There’s no reason to stay in this dreary place.”

“I just want a few minutes by myself, Vera. I’ll be right back. Anyhow, wouldn’t it be better for you to stay here with your jewelry, where it’s safe? You don’t want to take any chances.”

I ignored Vera’s puzzled look and hurried out of the room. In the lobby I saw the two KGB agents loitering by the door. As I walked past them, the woman said, “You seem eager to go out.”

“I forgot my lipstick,” I said.

“You couldn’t borrow some?” the man asked.

I gave him a withering look. “It wouldn’t be the right shade.” He shrugged as if I were too frivolous to bother with.

Once outside on the street with all the rushing cars and with people pushing rudely by me, I lost heart. I was ready to turn back when I noticed a large number of police on the streets. Rounding a corner, I saw a tank lumbering right down the center of the street as if it were a trolley car. Something was happening. I hurried along. The great white parliament building loomed over me. I made myself walk past the security guards as if I belonged there. At the desk I asked to see Lev Petrovich, showing the woman the official letter Grandfather had given me with the petition to ask for more money for our Leningrad ballet.