Face Me When You Walk Away (25 page)

Blyne moved his never-still hands uncertainly.

‘I think we should get out of New York,' said Blyne. ‘Tonight's reception at the United Nations is the last thing here. Why don't we go down overnight to Washington? You're staying at the embassy there, so Nikolai will be under some sort of control.'

The only objection to going to Washington was that Endelman could not stay at the Embassy, so it would mean he would have to shuttle between 16th Street and the hotel in which the publisher and his party were staying, ferrying the writer's drug supply. He could not, he knew, make Nikolai's addiction known immediately he arrived at the American capital. The Washington ambassador, Semyon Vladimirov, had been an attaché under Josef's father in Paris, an able, eager diplomat. The old man had nurtured him, guiding him so he avoided the pitfalls, recommending his promotion with personal letters to the Praesidium. During the trial, Vladimirov had denounced them both, seeing a short cut to even greater promotion, giving graphic evidence of totally fictitious meetings with members of the Sûreté and the C.I.A, Vladimirov had been in court when the sentence had been announced, Josef recalled. And had found the shock on the old man's face particularly amusing. To make Nikolai's addiction an embassy matter would be a tactical mistake, Josef decided. But there was common sense in Blyne's suggestion.

‘Is there a shuttle down to Washington tonight?'

‘I'll hire a plane,' said the publisher, anxious to cocoon the writer as much as possible.

Josef telephoned the Washington embassy, curtly instructing them to arrange overflow accommodation. Illinivitch would be staying at the embassy, thought Josef. He would need to speak to the deputy Minister immediately he arrived, he decided.

Endelman refused to attend the videotaping of the television show, excusing himself to develop the film he had taken during the tour. Josef felt a lurch of uncertainty at the thought that the photographer was tiring of the association with Nikolai. Thank God he had a commission that would keep him with them until the time came for Nikolai's return. The recorded shows, both for radio and television, went remarkably well, as had the lunch that preceded it. He wondered if the public success of the tour could be produced as a partial defence against any inquiry. It was inevitable that there would be an investigation, he accepted, once Nikolai's addiction became known.

Josef had forgotten his time stipulation upon the film company and was surprised to find Wasnet and Artman waiting for them when they returned to the Pierre from the TV studio.

The contracts were perfectly drawn and needed no amendments and Josef signed the Americans' copy after the first reading. The anxiety seeping away from Wasnet was almost visible, although Artman managed to control himself slightly better. Watts had withdrawn, Josef decided, because he feared a disaster, shifting responsibility entirely upon the production chief. If Moscow accepted the deal, Josef wondered if Watts would allow the man credit for the successful conclusion. Probably not, he thought.

‘Thank you,' said Wasnet, nervously, as Josef signed. He was still unsure, Josef knew.

‘How long before Moscow's approval?' asked Artman.

‘Difficult to say,' avoided the negotiator. ‘Within a month, perhaps. I would hope no longer.'

‘So would we,' said Wasnet, with feeling.

‘I was wondering whether I could come to Moscow, next month,' pressed Wasnet. ‘Just to see everything is going smoothly.'

They
were
nervous, concluded Josef. But there was an element of personal protection in the idea.

‘An excellent suggestion,' he agreed. ‘I'll recommend it.'

Semyonov had taken great care with the reception, Josef realized. Only the Chinese had refused the invitation, and because every other delegation was represented, the majority by their ambassadors, the Peking rejection appeared petty and rebounded in Russia's favour. Diplomacy, reflected Josef as he moved into the room overlooking the East River, often resembled schoolgirl dormitory politics.

Officiously, Semyonov took the initial role of translator, moving from group to group, introducing Nikolai. He actually enjoyed the reflected glory, realized Josef. The vanity of important men frequently surprised him. Endelman had arrived an hour before the reception, spending most of the time alone with Nikolai, who towards the end of the afternoon had grown irritable and nervous, unable to remain still, as if he were suffering a skin irritation. Now he was relaxed again, a shy man accepting Semyonov's guidance. Another injection was the most logical explanation. It was always possible, Josef supposed, that they had gone to bed together. He waited for a personal reaction to the thought. There should be disgust, he thought, or a shudder of contempt. He felt nothing, only the emptiness of non-feeling that had existed when he had learned of Pamela's betrayal and watched Nikolai jab a filthy needle into his arm. How much of him, wondered Josef, had died in Potma? Was something else buried in the shallow ditch into which he had rolled the already stiffening body of his father?

‘It goes well, doesn't it?' demanded Semyonov. An aide had taken the role of translator, saw Josef.

‘Yes,' agreed the negotiator. The ambassador was tense and smiling, like a man with a secret.

‘Did you read of the tragedy in the city last night?' said Semyonov.

‘Which one did you have in mind?' rejoined Josef. Schoolgirl repartee, he thought again.

‘A shocking example of Western decadence,' said Semyonov, reciting dogma. ‘A man, dressed as a woman, leapt from an apartment where, according to police reports, nearly everyone was homosexual. There are amazing pictures in today's newspapers.'

‘No,' said Josef. ‘I didn't read about it.'

So they knew of the party. Sledgehammer finesse, he thought. If that were an example of the ambassador's ability, Semyonov must need Devgeny's constant support. Unless, of course, Semyonov knew through Devgeny of moves in Moscow which meant the man could be careless in his clumsy innuendo. It was obvious they would have been watched, he supposed, but he had not imagined the surveillance would have been so complete. Perhaps Moscow might dispense with an inquiry and move immediately for a trial.

‘It is fortunate that Russia is free of such filth,' said Semyonov, disappointed that Josef had not risen to the bait.

He was very clumsy, thought Josef. He stared at the ambassador, refusing him any satisfaction.

‘I'm sorry if this reception isn't up to the usual standard to which you're accustomed,' the man blundered on, determined to extract some reaction from Josef.

‘Do you enjoy America?' threw back Josef, irritated.

‘No,' said the ambassador, immediately. ‘I judge my presence here necessary.'

‘Perhaps you'd like me to recommend a transfer?' suggested Josef.

Concern etched Semyonov's face, then cleared into a sneer. ‘You?' he queried, contemptuous of Josef's influence.

‘I think it's time you had a change, ambassador. Your conversation is most strange for an event such as this,' said Josef, happy at planting the seed of uncertainty.

The reception became oppressive. Nikolai realized that Semyonov and the other Russians were studying him, like a laboratory experiment, and became nervous, and Josef's exasperation grew. He rejected the traditional invitation of a tour of the building, careless of offence, pleading that they had a plane to catch to Washington. Semyonov's reports would be devastating, Josef realized, as he hurried from the building.

Their luggage was already packed in the waiting limousines, so they drove straight to La Guardia, Nikolai and Endelman slumped in their seats, hostile to everyone. The photographer was making Nikolai suffer for his brief moment of independence, decided Josef.

*

‘Jimmy and I will be able to meet, won't we?' asked Nikolai, urgently, as the Grumman Gulfstream taxied towards the Washington terminal.

‘Of course,' assured Josef. Sex or drugs, he wondered.

‘I mean …' stumbled the writer.

‘There won't be any difficulty. I promise you,' said the negotiator. Drugs, he decided. Nikolai would have no other interest now.

The cars were drawn up with diplomatic dispensation on the apron. Blyne and Endelman went to the second car and Josef ushered Nikolai into the leading vehicle. Nikolai stopped as he was entering the car, so that Josef collided with him, pushing him forward. Vladimirov, grey-haired and thinner than Josef recalled, was in the far corner. The ambassador stared unsmiling across at the man he had last seen standing in a court dock in Moscow, alongside a weeping old man. He said nothing. At least, thought Josef, he wasn't a hypocrite. On the jump-seat, but smiling a welcome, sat Illinivitch.

‘Hello Josef,' said the deputy Minister, extending his hand. Josef made difficulty of entering the car to avoid taking it

‘You know our ambassador, of course,' Illinivitch said, unperturbed by the rudeness.

‘Yes,' agreed Josef. ‘He has a reputation for court appearances.'

Illinivitch's smile faded at the antagonism.

Nikolai retracted tortoise-like into his shell, muttering one-word responses to the greetings of the two men, burrowing into the corner of the car. Josef sat opposite Vladimirov and stared at him, pointedly. Illinivitch kept the courtesy lights on in the car, the windows of which were curtained. The vehicle pulled out of the airport and began moving towards the city.

‘We've a lot to talk about, Josef.'

‘A great deal,' agreed the negotiator. ‘Has Moscow been getting my reports?'

‘We've been getting a great many reports,' returned the deputy Minister, enjoying himself. He turned to the writer. ‘Quite an historic speech you made at the Nobel ceremony,' he said.

Nikolai did not reply. Josef had noticed that his briefcase supply of drugs was again diminishing and assumed Nikolai was the thief. He wondered if his current behaviour were the result of librium or methalaquone mixing with heroin. Endelman might have given him some amphetamine, he thought.

‘How was it received?' asked Josef. He saw Illinivitch and the ambassador exchange looks at the writer's attitude.

‘Liked by some. Not by others,' fenced the tall Russian, glibly.

‘Not approved,' predicted Josef.

‘I didn't say that,' protested the deputy Minister.

‘There aren't many occasions, Comrade Illinivitch, when you actually do give an opinion,' accused Josef. Vladimirov was shifting uneasily at the brittleness of the conversation. Josef was glad to disconcert the man. He remembered his father, dazed and bewildered, looking around the court, seeking friends and finding none. How easy it would be now, to seize him by the throat, judged Josef. All he would have to do was stretch forward and then grab and squeeze. The ambassador shifted under Josef's unblinking attention.

Illinivitch laughed. ‘There's great value in vagueness, Josef.'

‘Do you prefer vagueness, Comrade Vladimirov?' demanded Josef, determined to create the maximum discomfort. ‘Or do you find it easy to be dogmatic and accurate in everything you say?'

‘The question is difficult to understand, Comrade Bultova,' replied the ambassador, seeking help from Illinivitch.

‘The last time we encountered each other,' jabbed Josef, viciously. ‘You found questions only too easy to follow.'

The ambassador was spared by the arrival at 16th Street.

‘I would like to talk to you, tonight,' announced Josef, looking straight at the deputy Minister.

Illinivitch consulted his watch, which showed eleven forty-five.

‘It's important,' stressed Josef, delaying his exit from the stationary car.

‘Thirty minutes,' agreed Illinivitch.

Josef shepherded Nikolai into the embassy and took him immediately to his bedroom. The writer appeared whiter than usual, the negotiator thought, as he undressed. Nikolai had no embarrassment about nudity, decided Josef. He was remarkably small, like a young boy.

‘Want a sleeping pill?'

The writer nodded.

‘Anything else?'

‘I've made a mess of it, haven't I?' blurted Nikolai, suddenly.

‘No,' contradicted Josef. ‘It only becomes a disaster when lots of people know. So far we've only harmed each other.'

‘I'm sorry, Josef,' said Nikolai. ‘About … about everything. I've betrayed you in every way possible. But you stayed my friend. There can't be any forgiveness for what I've done, but I'm truly sorry.'

Did he mean it, wondered Josef. Or was this another performance? Genuine, determined the negotiator. Nikolai's period of performances was over.

‘You'll get something from Jimmy for me, won't you?' asked the writer.

‘Yes,' undertook Josef.

‘I'm desperate, Josef.'

‘I know.'

Illinivitch and Vladimirov were waiting in an upstairs study, but the deputy Minister turned to the ambassador as Josef entered.

‘Perhaps,' he said gently. ‘You would excuse us …'

‘This is my embassy …' the ambassador began, but Illinivitch raised his hand, almost wearily. Illinivitch was practising sinister behaviour, thought Josef. He wasn't very impressed. Devgeny was really much better.

‘Please,' coaxed Illinivitch, his voice still very soft. ‘I'm sure you'll understand.'

Josef smiled as the man left the room, an exaggerated expression that Vladimirov saw.

‘I guessed you'd speak more freely without witnesses,' said Illinivitch.

Josef nodded. So, he thought, might Illinivitch.

‘Nikolai has become a drug addict. And he's also a committed homosexual,' proclaimed Josef, abruptly.

‘Really,' said Illinivitch, smiling. So he already knew, decided Josef. The surveillance had been very good.

‘You knew that Endelman was a heroin addict when I telephoned from Stockholm, seeking Ministry approval, didn't you?' demanded Josef. ‘You knew from Semyonov and still approved his accompanying us, even though you guessed from Nikolai's unstable behaviour in Moscow that there was a likelihood of his experimenting.'