During this innocuous conversation, Anna tried to grasp the urgency that lay behind Rosa’s unusual visit. Was Anna’s delay in reporting really that serious? Should she have called Rosa last night, after all?
“Will you have dinner with us?” Anna asked, in an attempt to clarify her visitor’s plans.
“I’m afraid I don’t have enough time. I just wanted a chance to chat with you, Anna.” Rosa briefly arched her eyebrows. “I waited so I could at least tell you hello, but now I must be off.” She put aside Viktor Ipalyevich’s books, except for The Red Light. “I accept this with humble gratitude,” she said.
“Wait a moment, I’ll write something in it.” He unscrewed his fountain pen and formulated a dedication. Rosa watched him, smiling as she did so, but Anna could detect her impatience.
“I’ll walk you to the bus,” Anna said as her friend was putting on her cap.
“That would be nice of you.”
“Will you go and call Petya in?” Anna asked her father as she slipped into her overcoat. “I’ll fix dinner as soon as I get back.”
Rosa exchanged farewells with Viktor Ipalyevich; then she and Anna left the apartment together and went wordlessly down the stairs. At last, Rosa broke the silence. “Your father’s a very pleasant man,” she said.
“He can turn his charm on and off, whenever he wants. Did you meet Petya, too?”
“Viktor Ipalyevich pointed him out to me from the kitchen window. A sweet boy.”
The preliminary banter was over. “I couldn’t call you last night,” Anna said. “Petya was still awake, and Papa was working on his poems.”
When they reached the second floor, Rosa stopped. “Where can we go?”
“I don’t know. There isn’t anyplace around here.”
Rosa pointed downstairs. At the turning between the ground floor and the cellar, there was a sort of niche, an element of fanciful building design left over from tsarist times. “Let’s sit down there. The place would appeal to Star-Eyes.” Rosa began to descend again. “You know his fondness for architecture.”
The mention of Kamarovsky made it painfully clear to Anna that the time for her to reach a decision had arrived. Rosa’s coming all the way to Filyovsky Park meant that the department must be particularly interested in Anna’s report.
They came to the narrow recess, in which residents of the apartment building used to sit and chat during the summer months. The built-in wooden benches were worn smooth, and innumerable steps had scratched the stone floor.
Rosa sat down. “Lyushin left the Ministry only a little while ago. The meeting lasted longer than expected.”
Anna dropped down onto the bench beside her.
“How was your evening?” Rosa asked. “What was his reason for calling you up?”
“What you suspected. He wanted female company.” Anna was speaking softly, and yet she thought she could hear her whispered syllables wandering around in the stairwell like ghosts. She reported what the physicist had eaten and how much he’d drunk, and she even related the stupid incident of the fiddler who’d gotten something in his eye.
“Did Lyushin mention his work?” Rosa cocked her head so that she could better see Anna’s face. “Did he talk about why he’d be paying the Minister a visit?”
“He wants increased funding for his research. I’ve already given Kamarovsky a report on that.”
“Considering Lyushin’s vanity, I’m surprised he didn’t try to impress you with his accomplishments. He made no reference—none at all—to his research project?”
I have brought the moment to a halt, Anna thought, remembering Lyushin’s words. And I needed no Mephistopheles to help me. “He probably didn’t have time to bring it up before Alexey’s unexpected arrival,” she answered.
Rosa Khleb nodded. “The meeting was arranged between the two of them.”
“And you sent me to the Ukraina even though you knew that?”
“I didn’t know it yesterday. We got a tip today from someone in the Ministry. How did Bulyagkov behave? Like a jealous bear?”
“He remained surprisingly calm.”
“He’s a politician,” Rosa said with a little smile. “Maintaining the facade—that’s what the gentlemen on the Central Committee are best at.” She clasped Anna’s hand. “Wait until the next time you’re alone with Alexey. I’m sure he won’t be so calm then.”
A noise made the two women turn around. A few feet away, a door opened, and Avdotya started shuffling toward the mailboxes. She noticed the other two only when she was right in front of them. “Good heavens! Who are you?” the old woman shouted.
“It’s all right, little mother! It’s me, Anna!”
“And who’s with you? Come out of there or I’ll call the police!”