Viktor Ipalyevich raised his head. “It’s some physicist,” he explained.
Lyushin’s name appeared in a graphic. In her next question, the interviewer mentioned the atomic city. Anna crouched down beside her father.
“Do you know him?”
“I may have seen him in one of the institutes.”
Lyushin told the interviewer about a research study undertaken by colleagues from Vietnam and the German Democratic Republic, working under his direction.
“Vain fop,” said Anna’s father. “Will you look at how affected he is? Watch him reach for his glass. He’s positively basking in his own significance.”
That word vain opened Anna’s eyes. Vanity. Lyushin was good-looking, intelligent, and witty, but his vain attitude negated everything else.
“Overbearing jackass.” Her father stood up to change the channel.
“It’s almost over.” She wanted to watch the rest of the interview.
Leaning with one elbow on the television set, Viktor Ipalyevich remained still. The interviewer regretted that her time was just about up. Lyushin seemed indignant at being ushered out so soon. “You referred to the enormous amount of resources that a complex like Dubna swallows up,” he said, interrupting his hostess. “Let me assure you that the fundamental research will pay for itself. In my Institute, we have assembled the greatest collective of theoretical physicists in the world. Because one thing is certain: There’s nothing more practical than a good theory.” He smiled into the camera and tossed his hair off his forehead. Then, quite concisely, the hostess thanked him. The program’s theme music drowned out her closing remarks.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a popinjay,” Viktor Ipalyevich said, changing the channel. Some light entertainment program was announced, and he sank back into his chair. Anna remained silent as she stepped to the window. In Dubna, Lyushin had impressed her as an eccentric genius; in the television appearance she’d just seen, he’d exposed himself as a narcissist. Strange, she thought. Logically, you’d figure someone whose profession required him to look into the very deepest parts of things would be a profound person himself. On the television screen, a pop duo, tightly entwined, sang a hit tune.
FOURTEEN
Anna’s patience was tried for six days before the Deputy Minister contacted her. During that period, she cast aside her decision several times, mostly at night, when the reasons for her proposed course of action seemed dubious. She told herself that Alexey would repudiate her as soon as she revealed the whole truth to him. But by day, her plan regained strength. Alexey was a tactician—wouldn’t the possibility of a double game appeal to him? Deceiving Kamarovsky was what frightened Anna the most. He gave her the inexplicable impression that he was omniscient. Hadn’t he expressed his benevolence toward her by the pardon—no other word would do—he’d procured for her father? Anna had the impression of moving through a minefield. The feeling that had gradually come to predominate in her was revulsion at her double-dealing. Alexey treated her obligingly, affectionately, and he seemed sad and sometimes lost. There was nothing in his character that justified Anna’s betrayal of his trust.
Surprisingly, the location he chose for their next appointment was not his apartment but the Proletarskaya subway station, near a busy marketplace and the bustling Volgogradsky Prospekt. Alexey’s message was so spontaneous that there was no time for Anton to pick her up; Anna had to take the subway.
“Things are difficult at the moment,” Bulyagkov informed her by way of greeting. He was wearing his jacket open, a rare thing for him to do, as he was always fearful of getting a cold. “The Twenty-fourth Party Congress is pure chaos.” He pointed to a narrow passage behind the station, and they went toward it.
“The leadership opened Pandora’s box when they raised the minimum wage. If they institute the new rate in Central Asia, the comrades in the Far East will want the same thing. If we yield to them, then we’ll have the Kazakhs and the West Siberian raions on our necks.” He took Anna’s arm. “Kosygin knows that, of course, but he’s ready to screw everything up for the sake of his pretty balance sheets. And so he appeals to every department to see whether it can make still more cuts and save still more money!”
The unusual location of their rendezvous and the short notice she’d been given unsettled Anna, and so did the Deputy Minister’s chattiness. He seemed merry and nervous at the same time. Before they reached the market, they passed a group of young men who were standing