chair and turned on the lamp. Cold light fell on her shoulders.
“Your report, Comrade.” Kamarovsky remained on his feet.
Brezhnev’s image appeared on the television screen, speaking urgently to the members of the Central Committee, who nodded like schoolboys. For a moment, Anna was distracted.
“Do you think that Alexey Maximovich will stab his boss, the Minister, in the back?”
The question took Anna by surprise. “No,” she said. She turned her eyes away from the television. “He’s simply having trouble making the situation clear to the comrades from the northeastern oblasts.”
“And why do you think the Deputy Minister is having so much trouble communicating a decision made by the CC? Does he think it’s wrong? Does he criticize it?”
“I don’t know,” Anna replied, her back stiff.
“Or might Alexey Maximovich see himself as the Minister for Research Planning?”
She recognized the fine line this question made her walk. “I can’t draw that conclusion from anything he says. He’s never suggested that he’s unsatisfied with his position.”
“But wouldn’t it be only natural? In the research field, Comrade Bulyagkov, who was educated as a physicist, is more competent than the Minister himself.”
Anna remained silent. Alexey had told her that he’d broken off his scientific studies decades ago, but he’d never mentioned the reason why.
Kamarovsky gave her a friendly look. “How ambitious do you think Alexey Maximovich is?”
She thought about Alexey’s disparaging remark: We’re just puffed-up bureaucrats. There was no ambition in that, only resignation.
When her silence persisted, Kamarovsky leaned down to her. “What do your feelings tell you about that, Anna?”
His use of her first name frightened her. “I have no feelings for such things, Comrade Colonel.”
“Spoken like an agent for internal security.”
“I’m not an agent.”
“We don’t let our emotions guide us,” he said, ignoring her remark. “We take advantage of other people’s emotions.”
“I don’t believe I would be in a position to take advantage of Alexey’s emotions.”
“Of course not. You provide the Deputy Minister with support, just as we do.” Kamarovsky pointed to her dress. “What is that, Comrade?”
She looked down her front; he was referring to a slimy stain on her left breast. “That’s … oh for goodness’ sake … it’s phlegm. It’s been happening so often lately I hardly notice it anymore.” Before she could try to remove the spot, Kamarovsky said “Please wait” and went over to the sink at the far end of the room. He ran water on a towel and brought it to her.
“Dawn patrol,” Anna said, rubbing the spot. “Petya has fever, along with a deep cough.” She held the fabric of the dress away from her body and rubbed some more. “When he wakes up, he’s so short of breath … I don’t know what to do.”
“What does the doctor say?”
“Nothing that helps.” For a second, their eyes met and held. “It’s a woman doctor. She says he’s got a catarrh and prescribes an inhalant the pharmacy doesn’t have.”
“Have you tried another doctor?” He took off his glasses and held them against the light.
“Not yet,” Anna said cautiously.
“In your place, that’s what I would do.” Kamarovsky breathed on the lenses.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know …” She left the sentence unfinished.
“I’ve heard about someone.” He put the glasses back on his face, reached for his pen, took a sheet of paper, and wrote a note three lines long. Anna held her breath, as though the slightest sound might deter him from what he was doing. The pen hovered over the paper for a second, and then the Colonel signed it with his initials. He took out a rubber stamp, stamped the paper, and, with apparent indifference, pushed the sheet over to Anna. “The man’s supposed to be good. Maybe he can help Petya.”
“This is very kind of you.” She made an effort to hide her great joy, her hope for Petya.
“Kind? Not at all. I have an assignment for you, and I don’t want your concern for your child to have an adverse effect on your performance.” As though writing the note for Anna had reminded him of something, Kamarovsky opened the top drawer of the desk and took out a small box containing tablets. He pressed one out of its packaging and swallowed it without water.
“An assignment?” Carefully, as if it were an important document, Anna folded the paper and laid it on her lap.
FOUR
The next day was a Sunday, but Anna, anxious and worried, checked her mailbox downstairs in the lobby. The letter had been delivered by a messenger; she noticed the special