fetch her to this place. He missed her; for the sake of her company, he’d organized a complicated process and used his influence, just for two nights with her. She stuffed the envelope into her coat pocket. In a year and a half, she and Alexey had never yet spent an entire night together, and Anna was looking forward to the experience. At the same time, it made carrying out her assignment even more repugnant. She stood there, deep in thought, surrounded by the other “distinguished visitors,” who were comparing their room numbers, stowing their baggage, and making plans for lunch. Popov, standing on the stairs and speaking loudly, informed them that their first activity would be a visit to the synchrocyclotron.
“Tsazukhina,” the receptionist said, holding up the key to room number seven. Anna nodded and took the key. This time, she permitted the orphanage director to carry her bag.
The main course had just been served when Czestmir Adamek entered the dining room. The scientific guide spotted Popov at the Aeroflot pilot’s table, slipped past the other tables, all of them occupied by members of the visiting delegation, and hissed something in the group leader’s ear. Popov wanted to finish his meal, but he rose to his feet when Adamek gestured toward the clock on the wall.
“Everyone listen up!” Popov said. He informed his group that the sightseeing tour had been rescheduled. “We meet at the bus in five minutes.” Popov wiped his hands on the tablecloth, assumed that everyone would comply with the new instructions, and hurried to the exit. When he looked back, he saw that only the bus driver had stood up.
“You’re not at some coffee klatch!” Adamek cried out. “The science center is a high-precision operation. Every man-minute costs the State a million rubles. Your conduct is harmful to Soviet research!”
As though they were puppets on a string, the members of the delegation stood up and pressed toward the door. No one thought about their coats; dressed as they were, they rushed through the dining room and into the open. Because of the cold, the bus wouldn’t start right away, and the driver kept looking apologetically at Adamek and pleadingly at his dashboard. At last, the diesel engine sputtered to life, and the bus swung away from the hotel and onto the main road. The snow lay a yard thick on the roofs of the Institute. Something was glinting among the bare larches; Adamek confirmed that the Volga, at that time of the year still covered with thick ice, was what they were seeing through the trees.
They reached a complex that looked like a factory building; as they got closer, it became clear that the structure was about one hundred feet high and entirely of concrete. The Pioneers sprang from the bus and followed Adamek through a steel door, into a stairwell, and up the stairs, their boots resounding militarily in the narrow space. In an anteroom, Adamek had everyone stop and pointed to a radioactivity-measuring device set in the wall. The needle was at rest in the green area.
“We’re taking advantage of a pause between two work processes to view the accelerator. We shall move in an exactly straight line, very close together. There will be no talking.” Adamek pressed a button, the door clattered, and a high-pitched acoustic signal sounded; some visitors held their ears. An Asian man in light gray overalls and a close-fitting hood that left only his face uncovered was awaiting them. He distributed caps and overshoes, all of the same white, synthetic material.
“The air around the accelerator is purified,” Adamek explained. “Hurry up and put those things on. Work time on a synchrocyclotron is worth more than gold.”
The Asian shoved a box toward them. “For the watches,” he said.
Adamek was the first to remove his from his wrist. “The magnetic field hasn’t been neutralized yet. The mechanism of your watches would go crazy in there.” At the next door, he stopped yet again. “The nuclear spectroscopy section has just completed a test. You will observe how the researchers dismantle their target, which has just been bombarded with protons. From this point on, there must be absolute silence.” He entered and stood next to the door until Popov had ushered the group inside.
SEVEN
Anna was in her hotel room. She’d locked the door, and now she was staring out the window. The streetlights dyed the terrain a dismal orange. She was disillusioned. Certainly, the platform and roof of the accelerator were colossal