He said he'd 'while away the hours pleasantly'... more so than the others. That there were... 'no such sights on the Quay.' I told you, he insisted I change clothes in front of him." "The 'Quay.' The Hermitage, Malachite Hall. There's a woman there," said Taleniekov, frowning. "They were thorough. One more missing number." "My lover was unfaithfulr' "Frequently, but not with her. She was an unreconstructed Tzarist put in charge of the architectural tours and perfectly delightful. She's also closer to seventy than sixty, although neither seems so far away to me now. I took her to tea quite often." 'I'hat's touching." "I enjoyed her company. She was a fine instructor in things I knew little about Why would anyone have put her on a list in a filer' "Speaking for Leningrad," said Lodzia, amused, "if we saw our competition from Piga meeting with such a person, we'd insert it." "It's probably as stupid as that. What else did he say?" "Nothing memorable. While I was in my underwear, he made a foolish remark to the effect that mathematicians had the advantage over academics and librarians. We studied figures...." Taleniekov got to his feet. "Tbat's i14" he said. 'qhe missing number.
lbey've found him." "What are you talking aboutr' "Our Englishman either couldn't resist the bad pun, or he was probing.
The Quay--the Hermitage Museum. The academics--my drinking companions at the Zhdanov. The reference to a librarian-the Saltykov-Shchedrin Library.
The man I want to reach is there." "Who is he?" Vasili hesitated. "An old man who years ago befriended a young university student and opened his eyes to things he knew nothing about." "Who is he? Who is he?" "I was a very confused young mW' Taleniekov said. "How was it possible for over three-quarters of the world to reject the teachings of the revolution? I could not accept the fact that so many millions were unenlightened. But that's what the textbooks said, what our professors told us. But why? I had to understand how our enemies thought the way they did." "And this man was able to tell you?" "He showed me. He let me find out for myself. I was sufficiently fluent in English and French then, reasonably so in Spanish. He opened the doors, literally opened the steel doors, of the forbidden books-thousands of volumes Moscow disapproved of-and let me free with them. I spent weeks, months poring over them, hying to understand. It was there that the... 'great Taleniekov'... learned the most valuable lesson of all: how to see things as the enemy sees them, how to be able to think like him. That is the keystone of every success rve ever liad. My old friend made it possible." "And you must reach him now?" "Yes. He's lived all his life here. Hes seen it all happen and he's survived. If anyone can help me, he can." "What are you looking for? I think I have a right to know." "Of course you do, but it's a name you must forget. At least, never mention it. I need information about a family named Voroshin." A family? From Leningrad?- "Yes.
Lodzia shook her head in exasperation. "Sometimes I think the great Taleniekov is a great fooll I can run the name through our computersl" "The minute you did, you!d be marked-for all purposes, dead. That man on the floor has accomplices everywhere." He turned and walked back to the body, kneeling down to continue his examination of the corpse. "Besides, you'd find nothing; it's too many years ago, too many changes of regimes and emphases. If any entry, or entries, had ever been made, I doubt they'd be there now. The irony is that if there was something in the data banks, it would probably mean the Voroshin family is no longer involved." "Involved with what, Vasili'r' He did not answer immediately, for he had turned the nude body over. There was a small discoloration of the skin on the lower midsection of the chest, around the area of the heart, barely visible through the matted hair. It was tiny, no more than a half-inch in diameter-the bluish-purple mark was a circle. At first glance it appeared to be a birthmark, a perfectly natural phenomenon, in no way superimposed on the flesh. But it was not natural; it was placed there by a very experienced needle. Old Krupskaya had said the words as he lay dying: a man was caught, a bluish circle on his chest, a soldier of the