the forewoman of a factory that made finished building parts, a slender blonde in training to become a peace ambassador of the Soviet Union, a schoolgirl named Yelena, and a cashier who’d attracted notice because of her unusual mathematical abilities. Among the men, there were two Irkutskians from the International Friendship Club, a young farmer from Karabanovo, the director of a Moscow orphanage, and a producer at a radio station. Anna presented herself with her job title, and a woman with dyed black hair stepped forward and shook her hand. “I’m Nadezhda from combine four-four-seven,” she said. She had small eyes, and her face appeared to be stamped with a permanent grin. “So you’re the girl who’s going with us instead of Raisa.” Nadezhda took a seat in the middle of the first row and offered her colleague the place next to her.
“What happened to Raisa?”
“She was replaced all of a sudden. No reason was given.” Nadezhda gazed mockingly at Anna. “Have you come directly from work?”
Someone came into the room. His shirt and tie looked new, and there were sharp creases in his trousers. “Good day, comrades. I am Mikhail Popov, group leader for our three-day excursion to Dubna,” he said. His voice sounded like a sewing machine.
The members of the delegation interrupted their conversations. Popov draped his overcoat across the back of a chair, stepped to the podium, and opened a document folder. “The acquisition of knowledge requires human courage,” he began without a transition. “The Soviet scientists chose a deserted area, a marsh, as the place to build the biggest research center in the world. It serves exclusively peaceful purposes.” As he read, he held a finger under each successive line. “The city of Dubna is surrounded on three sides by rivers—the Volga, the Dubna, and the Sestra—and on the fourth by the Moscow Canal. These waterways were of the utmost importance for the transport of heavy equipment. The land where laboratories and apartment houses now stand was originally under water; the engineers took boats to the various worksites.”
When Popov turned the page, it sounded like a whiplash. He looked up, and his eyes met Anna’s. She nodded, showing her interest, and at the same time wondered whether he might be the minder whom Kamarovsky had certainly assigned to her.
“On the fourteenth day of December 1949, the synchrocyclotron began its work. The main building required more than seven hundred thousand cubic feet of concrete; the walls are more than one hundred feet high; the ceiling alone weighs ten thousand tons.” Mechanically, as though trained to do so, Popov tilted his head to one side. “Imagine a magnet that weighs seven thousand tons. Three Volga limousines could comfortably park on each of its poles.” He responded with satisfaction to his audience’s mild tittering; yes, his look seemed to say, science has its lighter side, too. Then he went on, describing the efforts made by the building collective in 1949 to fulfill its duty of putting all machines in operation before the government’s stipulated deadline. “Enthusiasm and the creative spirit of the Soviet engineers led to success.” At this point, Popov began to read a list of technological research achievements that had been produced in Dubna.
Anna stretched her back—her shoulders ached. The substance of Popov’s lecture would surely be in the materials up there in the box, ready for distribution. She looked behind her, and she had the impression that most of those present found nothing new in his revelations. The pilot was playing with a button on her jacket; the peace ambassadress, lost in thought, ran her fingers through her hair; only the forewoman was leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and listening. Anna was sure that Kamarovsky had smuggled in another “member of the delegation,” someone tasked in his or her turn with reporting on Anna’s conduct and methods. She knew that she was starting to judge reality according to a scheme learned from the Colonel. She’d grown adept at machinations, she was acquainted with the means of gaining advantages for herself, and she was preparing to use people the way Kamarovsky did. Wasn’t she even making use of Kamarovsky himself? Hadn’t she foreseen that he’d be able to find her and her son a decent doctor? It had cost him nothing and made Anna happy. She thought of the little presents for Petya that Anton had picked up in specialty shops; now they were probably lying on the backseat of the limousine. Anna was