The West Winford Incident (21 page)

Ivan escorted them to the meeting place. This entailed a minibus ride passing alongside the imposing Kremlin wall on their right and down Leninski Prospeck. After about half a mile, they stopped and were greeted by an assorted bunch of men and women, no doubt including the statuary KGB ‘minders', and hustled into the entrance hall of a tall office block. Dave and his colleagues were organised together to be taken up to the committee room. There were two ancient lifts, brass grill fronted, one of which was waiting at ground floor level. Dave and his party were squeezed into this together with the obligatory attendant – the USSR boasts full employment! The latter pushed the button but the lift refused to move. Repeating this with increasing violence did nothing to persuade it to budge. There followed a somewhat comical scene of confusion as a woman administrator, with an unnecessary theatrical display of arm waving and herding, corralled her charges into the second lift. Off they went, leaving the former liftman rattling his cage to little avail.

After the formal introductions, each member from the host delegation gave a brief resume of their background and their area of expertise and the visitors were asked to do likewise. Amongst Dave's colleagues were a variety of specialists in areas such as high voltage systems, instrumentation equipment and reactor operation. Dave was the sole turbine materials representative. The plan outlined by the hosts was to spend the day together in a general exchange of information on electricity production matters and for the rest of the week, they would get down to detail within smaller groups. Visits had also been arranged to suit the various interests.

Dave and his colleagues quickly adapted to the routine and although they were a friendly group, Dave enjoyed being alone with Ivan in the evenings, as this experience was so different to his normal life. He was pleased to learn that Ivan had been appointed to be his guide on a visit to a power station, a little to the north west of Moscow, towards the end of his stay. Not only was Ivan good company but, being a qualified metallurgist, his area of interest was very similar to Dave's.

The Norvokosky Power Station was similar in design to West Winford, therefore Dave could follow the explanation of the various functions given by the turbine hall engineer – once translated. There was a major difference in the staffing levels, compared with the UK, which perhaps had much to do with the USSR's full employment policy.

The scene within the turbine hall was one of surprising activity, certainly when compared to its western equivalent. Men and women were busying themselves around all six of the steaming giants. Insulation was being patched here and there, bearings were being oiled and an army of cleaners were working, half-heartedly mopping the tiled floor, between each turbine. So many people, in addition to the normal operators. Dave shuddered inwardly at the sight. Each machine hummed, the floor throbbed and steam escaped from various pipes and joints. Tons of hot whirling metal and it would only take a tiny crack to cause a repeat of Winford, but with this level of staffing, the thought was particularly frightening.

The senior turbine operator was introduced to Dave and Ivan and he, Alexander Borisovich Denisov, provided the information on the operational detail. He also joined them for lunch. Dave instantly took to this charming and friendly man. Dave informed Alexander that, as a consequence of an LP turbine disc failure which they had suffered during an overspeed test, his organisation had suspended such tests for safety reasons. Alexander had heard of the incident and understood that it had been caused by contaminated steam. He was glad to say that Norvokosky steam was as pure as gold, as was all steam in the USSR, he added and, as if to emphasise his point, he laughed, displaying several gold teeth.

“He says it's better than holy water,” translated Ivan.

“Da, da, kharashiya voda,”
grinned Alexander.

Dave was tempted to express his view that contamination was not the reason for failure, but he was a little intimidated by the circumstances, which compelled him to support the official line.

During lunch, being free of any ‘minders', they talked pleasantly about their respective lives away from work. Alexander shared Dave's interest in running and he had a regular training routine similar to Dave's, except for the addition of an icy plunge into the nearby river at the end of his route. They reminisced about some of the great runners of the past, notably Zatopek and Chatterway. Ivan was not to be left out and he brought the conversation around to football, which proved to be just as animated, as many of the famous players such as Lev Yashin and Gordon Banks were discussed. Following lunch, Alexander returned to his duties, after expressing the hope that Dave would enjoy the rest of his stay. Ivan and Dave rejoined the other visitors for a presentation by the station manager. The party then returned to the Rossia.

Before leaving the hotel Ivan suggested to Dave that they try a less touristy restaurant later, to which he readily assented. Ivan's plan was to meet outside the Bolshoi Theatre which was nearby, being just across Red Square. Dave was delighted, and even more so when Ivan introduced him to the Moscow subway system. Absolutely unbelievable! The stations were works of art, vast cavernous spaces with ornate columns and intricate carvings, all illuminated with chandeliers.

The meal was excellent and beer was the favoured drink. It was late into the evening when Ivan abruptly introduced a solemn note into the conversation. He requested that Dave would not mention that they had been alone together away from work and the ‘designated' hotel, as this might cause him problems. This came as a sharp reminder to Dave, who had been in danger of forgetting, amongst all the conviviality, that this was, after all, a totalitarian state. He nodded his agreement.

“
Kharasho
– that is good,” smiled Ivan, “as I have another request to put to you.” Dave winced. He would be happy to take slight risks as he disliked this oppressive state, but what if Ivan's proposal was something serious? In spite of his qualms he again nodded.

“Actually we have an invitation to a social gathering, but it is absolutely unofficial, are you willing to take a chance?”

Christ! Thought Dave, this was like something out of the bloody films. He could see himself in the Lubyanka by this time tomorrow. What should he say?

“It's our friend Alexander, Alexander Borisovitch Denisov, the turbine engineer from Norvokovsky,” he added seeing Dave's puzzled stare. “We're invited to a family dinner tomorrow night. Apparently he enjoyed your company so much, he was insistent that you should have a taste of real Russian hospitality. I can arrange a car if you are willing.”

Dave was relieved, as there seemed to be a world of difference between attending a family dinner and conspiring with a crowd of anarchists, or the like. He agreed to be at the Bolshoi the following evening.

What a great decision it turned out to be. It was one of the most pleasant evenings he could remember. This view was, of course, coloured by the unusual, slightly dangerous, circumstances, he would admit. Nevertheless, it was a great experience and one he would not forget.

Sasha, as Alexander wished to be called, was blessed with a beautiful wife and two daughters. It was not Elena's physical beauty, though indeed she was lovely, but rather her inner beauty that was clearly evident almost as soon as she greeted Ivan and Dave. She had the most deep, soulful eyes, which lit up as she received the two of them warmly and welcomed them into her humble home. Humble it was indeed, though no more so, Ivan told Dave later, than the thousands of similar, standard state, flats with their prescribed floor area.

The two girls, Natasha, eleven and Tanya, nine were delightful. They looked very smart in their dresses and their hair had clearly received special attention. Healthy, lively children indeed, which inevitably brought Jo and Katy into Dave's thoughts. Following brief introductions, they moved across to the table and sat as formally as the tight squeeze would allow.

Sasha was the perfect host – the life and soul of the party. He produced a bottle of red wine which was a great compliment to the meal
.
They were treated to beetroot soup followed by a sort of schnitzel and noodles in gravy and finally, some pancakes. Dave was enchanted. He gazed around the table as he ate and when he caught young Tanya's eye, who was often staring at him, she hurriedly lowered her gaze and concentrated on her food. Natasha was also shy, but concealed it better than her sister. They were all swept up, however, by Sasha as he launched into a series of stories, the political leaders of the USSR being the butt of his humour. Elena occasionally attempted to restrain the more extreme excesses of her husband, but she found it difficult not to laugh as she feigned displeasure. At Sasha's prompting, the girls attempted some English remarks and Dave applauded their efforts, which made them blush. Sasha and Elena were clearly very proud of their daughters, with good reason in Dave's opinion. Emboldened by their success, Natasha and Tanya went to their room to prepare themselves for a short entertainment, which they had planned for their guests. Sasha sought out a bottle of vodka.

The girls returned and Ivan and Dave were treated to a poetry reading (in English), a song (in Russian) and a dance (Georgian style), the latter accompanied by enthusiastic rhythmic applause, led by a beaming Sasha. Both girls made their bows seriously but then burst into giggles. How like Jo and Katy, thought Dave. Parallel family lives separated by an ideology.

The end of a perfect evening and genuine tears were shed, as Ivan and Dave made their farewells. Dave felt unusually emotional and wondered how enmity could arise between nations when, at the individual level, such harmony was possible.

Swept up by the emotion of the occasion, Dave made a decision. Bugger the SSA – he had burned his boats anyway. He asked Ivan to pass on a few serious words to Sasha. Ivan was puzzled but agreed. Dave looked earnestly at Sasha as he spoke. He stressed the importance of what he wished to say in relation to the Winford failure and went on to summarise his recent results, from which it was clear that steam impurities were not responsible. Consequently all turbines of similar design, including those at Norvokosky, were at serious risk of failure. He realised that it was unlikely that any real action would be taken, but he implored Sasha, to at least endeavour to get routine overspeed testing suspended, as that was when the stresses on the discs were highest and therefore the risk of failure, greatest. Sasha understood and thanked him, adding that he would report Dave's comments to his superior, as he was not senior enough to be able to make such a decision himself. He was pessimistic, however, that he would be able to convince his superiors, as they had received a report saying that steam contamination was to blame for the British failure. It would, he thought, require a revised report in print to have any influence. Dave understood and told Sasha that it would be published shortly. He felt that could do no more.

How strange, he later thought, that he had hugged Elena and Sasha before leaving, which was so out of character for him, and yet it had seemed so appropriate – was this all due to the vodka?

Next day, the official visit concluded with a small reception. Soon Dave was seated, gazing through the window of his British Airways plane, upon the bustling scene that traditionally surrounds the carcass of a loading aircraft. He felt so fortunate to have been selected for such a trip. Almost ready, he thought; the fuel tankers, luggage buggies and stairways had scuttled away. Just the chap wearing earmuffs remaining, waiting to give the pilot the thumbs-up. A roar down the runway and through the window all the things that go to make up a modern international airport, shrank to model proportions. Then into the clouds.

On the journey, Dave found himself inexplicably emotional as the miles passed. It had only needed a few days away from home to make him appreciate just how much he valued his family and the routine of his life. This had been brought into even sharper focus following the visit to Sasha's.

How precious these things were and yet how quickly he had pushed them into the background over the past months, in pursuit of his personal ambitions. He vowed to urgently redress the situation. He would continue to pursue his work conscientiously, but not to the detriment of his family. He thought about his evening with Pauline and how elated it had made him feel to be, albeit briefly, taken back to the tangled emotions and excitement of his youth. But at what cost? The stupidity of it. Sue and the girls meant the world to him and yet he'd jeopardised everything on a thoughtless, selfish, whim. Thank goodness Pauline had declined to take things further. He'd been a bloody fool. Well, from now on, the family came first. This had, indeed, been a timely reminder.

Back on the A4 these thoughts suddenly crystallised, he was jolted into the immediate. His technical note would be being prepared for publication. Christ! His heart began thumping, almost bursting through his chest. God! What had he done? In less than three weeks' time, the shit would hit the fan and no mistake. He willed himself to forget it until then and worked hard to take in pleasant thoughts as he passed the White Horse. What a lot had happened since he'd last walked up to the summit.

It was an emotional return as all three ‘girls' rushed eagerly to greet him and he settled down to a real cup of tea. Jo and Katy bustled around and were close at hand when their father reached into his holdall and, in the best conjurors' tradition, plucked out two brightly coloured parcels. Both girls were in a cooperative mood and so synchronised their unwrapping to be sure not to spoil their sister's surprise. Maybe not such a surprise when they found, carefully wrapped within the box, a set of brightly painted, lime-wood,
Matryoshka
dolls,
for which Russia is famous. The girls were delighted and, after kissing their father, they went to their rooms to decide where to place all six dolls to best advantage.

Dave asked after Sue's progress with her family history, on this occasion with genuine interest. She said that, although whilst he was away she had had to stay near home, she had been able to settle down with all her information and make plans as to how best to solve some of the problems. Dave gave Sue a potted history of his trip and she could tell that it had been more than just a technical exchange. It was clear that he had been touched, at a much deeper level, than could be explained by purely technical matters.

Dave decided on an early night as, although not jet-lagged, his biological clock seemed a little disturbed. Sue said that she would follow him up. Dave lay on the bed and the tears flowed freely, which for the life of him he couldn't explain. Was it just the reunion with Sue and the girls or something more complex? Perhaps something to do with Sasha's family? He thought back to the evening shared with Sasha, Elena and their girls such a loving home and clearly so happy despite the hardships of daily life in the Soviet Union. An example to many western families, who enjoy a comfortable lifestyle and yet still did not find the contentment of the Denisov family. Certainly, he felt that they had been instrumental in reminding him of the importance of the family unit.

*

With some trepidation, Dave returned to work. He felt guilty about his secret, which he felt would be obvious to his colleagues. Would someone have found out whilst he had been away? Maybe the typist had made some unguarded remark. However, he need not have worried, as his return to work was characterised by an eagerness on the part of his colleagues, to bring him up to date with significant developments. They passed quickly over the routine work. Eagerly they vied with each other to pass on the big news. Something, it seemed, had revived the interest of the national press in the West Winford incident. They had returned to the subject with a vengeance and had, in no uncertain terms, accused the Authority of suppressing results and orchestrating an elaborate cover up. Though the headlines were not identical, they all carried the same message – ‘SSA Cover-up – Widespread Threat to Power Supplies' being the theme. Gritty went on to say that this was not the biggest surprise. On reading the articles they had learned that the revelations were nothing to do with West Winford, but concerned the discovery of extensive cracking of turbine discs at a Welsh industrial power plant. The defects had apparently been found during NDT inspection. The newspaper reports claimed that the results had been suppressed by senior figures within the SSA and an inquiry had been ordered.