Kamarovsky’s behavior went beyond a stranger’s common curiosity. “You were Rosa’s teacher?” she asked.
“Is that what she says?” His glinting glasses hid his eyes.
Anna wondered whether the man had been Rosa’s mentor in journalism school or at the newspaper. She said, “I don’t know anything about the newspaper business.”
“And what do you know something about, Comrade?”
“Lime,” she replied. “Emulsion paint. Oil paint. I’m pretty familiar with undercoat plaster and finishing plaster, and I even know how to do marbling.”
“Have you seen the big hall in the Ostankino, which has just been reopened?”
“Only in photographs. I’ve never been there.”
“During the restoration, it was discovered that the painters who decorated the hall a long time ago had used an unknown binder, and their pigments were considerably brighter than the ones used today. The chemical composition of the old pigments was studied in the laboratory, and they were found to include linseed oil, aluminum oxide … and animal urine.” Kamarovsky nodded, as though he’d delivered some significant news.
“Are you an art historian?”
“In a former life. What else occupies your time, Anna?” His tone of voice had grown warmer. “What does your husband do?”
“He’s a first lieutenant in the army.”
“Stationed in Moscow?”
Anna named Leonid’s unit and said where it was based.
“And you live with him and your little boy?”
“We live with my father.”
“Right.” Kamarovsky emptied his glass. “Your father is Viktor Ipalyevich Tsazukhin.”
Anna’s blood had shot into her cheeks. All at once, it was clear to her: This was an arranged meeting. She and Rosa had not just happened to pick Arkhangelskoye Park, had not randomly chosen the path to the steps; the man in the dark green suit wasn’t sitting here in the sun for no reason; and above all, he was more than a teacher.
In the same soft voice as before, he’d asked, “Does your father know you’re committing adultery?” And when Anna made no reply, he added: “You allow yourself to be seduced by the Deputy Minister for Research Planning.”
“No, I seduce him, comrade,” she’d said. She didn’t know where such cheekiness came from; she knew only that she didn’t want to be interrogated anymore. The interrogator made a sign, and the waiter hurried over to their table.
“Lemonade?” Kamarovsky inquired, as though Anna had passed the first test. A couple who’d been strolling around the terrace tried to sit at the next table, only to be told that it was reserved. Anna gradually realized that Rosa had maneuvered her onto an island. She tried to look into Rosa’s eyes, but they remained impenetrable.
“Why have you gotten involved with Bulyagkov?” Kamarovsky had asked. “Is it his position? Do you hope to obtain privileges through him?”
“No.”
“It can hardly be his charm.”
“I got involved with him because he asked nothing of me.”
“Alexey Maximovich is in the public eye. Special security precautions are taken for him, measures intended to preserve his personal safety as well as his reputation.” The waiter brought Anna’s drink, and Kamarovsky paused.
“May I ask who you are?”
“We’ll get to that later.” He invited her to taste her drink. “Does your husband have any inkling of your relationship?”
“No.”
“Then can you explain why he chooses to spend his nights with his unit, even though maneuvers came to an end some time ago?”
Anna had certainly noticed that Leonid wasn’t coming home three or four nights a week. She’d consoled herself with the thought that comradeship had always been important to him.
“Leonid is either too proud or too cowardly to talk to you about all this,” Kamarovsky said pointedly.
She hadn’t mentioned Leonid’s name, so she assumed the man in the green suit must know him. “Have you spoken with Leonid?”
“We won’t intrude upon your married life unless it becomes necessary to do so. What we’re interested in is the Deputy Minister’s reputation.”
“Alexey’s careful.”
“That’s not the point.” Kamarovsky gripped the side of his eyeglasses. “Alexey Maximovich Bulyagkov is a bearer of the Soviet Union’s state secrets. Therefore, it matters with whom he speaks, whom he meets, with whom he sleeps. In order to ensure his safety, Alexey Maximovich must be kept under surveillance.” He lifted his glasses. “Do you understand, Comrade?”
Warm and at the same time penetrating eyes were directed at Anna. Age had dimmed their brightness, and the glasses had left marks on the bridge of his nose.
“Do you understand me?”
“Not entirely.”
“Once a week, you’re alone with the Deputy Minister. You share intimate moments with him, and you learn what he thinks, what burdens weigh on him, what dangers he sees for himself.”
“We’ve never spoken