Madness Treads Lightly

CHAPTER 22

Venya flew into the room as if he’d been scalded.

“You were prepared to kill a child? A two-year-old? You don’t care? Even the lowest thug wouldn’t dream of putting a bomb in a stroller!” he shouted.

“What’s the matter, my darling?” Regina asked, turning toward him—having covered her face with a green mask.

“I was watching the local news. Do you want to finish off Polyanskaya so badly that you don’t give a fuck who else you kill? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Calm down,” Regina said through her teeth. “What makes you think they’re talking about Polyanskaya? Did they actually name her?”

“Don’t play innocent with me!” Venya shouted. “Why did you cook this whole thing up to begin with?”

“I cooked it up? Me? How interesting! Do you have the slightest idea what you’re saying? Now you feel sorry for the child! Do you think you’re Alyosha Karamazov? I’m living with a softie! And don’t yell at me! Sit still and keep quiet. Do you understand? Everything I do, I do for you. I deal with all kinds of undesirables, risk my own skin, and you feel sorry for a child.”

“For me? For me you could have stopped at Sinitsyn. He was plenty.”

“Uh-huh.” Regina nodded. “Sinitsyn, Azarov, and then Katya. And that’s it. Stop there. No, my happiness. The machinery’s in motion. Polyanskaya’s next, with or without the child. You know as well as I do that if anything, even a drop of information about what you did to those girls gets out to our mobster friends, it will be worse than the courts, worse than death. For me, too, naturally. But I’ll be able to wiggle out of it. Whereas you… I’m doing all this for you. Get a grip and quit sniveling.”

“That’s what my mother used to say,” Venya said quietly.

Regina looked him in the eye for a few seconds without saying a word.

“Fine.” She sighed. “I’ll wash off this mask and we’ll go to work.”

“No.” He shook his head. “We have to talk. Just talk. No hypnosis.”

“Knock yourself out. I’m listening.”

“Regina, I don’t want you to kill Polyanskaya,” Venya said quietly and hoarsely.

“She’ll be the last. Everything hinges on her. I’m not going to touch Olga Sinitsyna. She presents no danger. But Polyanskaya is dangerous. Even you must realize that.”

“Leave her alone.”

“Why?”

“Because”—he swallowed nervously—“because you can’t do it neatly. You’ve followed her too much as it is. You can’t pull it off and it’s too risky to hire someone else to do it. Can’t you get it into your head that her husband is a police colonel? Cases like this are always solved.”

“Is that the only reason I shouldn’t touch Polyanskaya?” Regina asked quickly.

“Yes.”

“Lena, child, wake up.”

Lena pried her eyes open and looked at Vera Fyodorovna, who was standing over her holding the telephone.

“Yes… Good morning. What time is it?” she asked, sitting up on the bed.

“Eight thirty. You have a call from work.”

“Thank you.” Lena took the receiver from Vera Fyodorovna.

“Get up.” She heard the voice of Masha, the editor in chief’s secretary, on the line. “They moved the planning meeting to today. You need to be here by eleven. The chief said you had to come.”

“Fine, Masha. I’ll come. Thanks for waking me up early.”

Liza ran into the bedroom in tights and a warm sweater.

“Mama, good morning! Nanny Vera and I already had our breakfast, but you’ve been sleeping and sleeping. And this man can’t talk like us. He’s so funny! Look what he brought me!”

Liza ran off to her room and came back holding a box of Legos.

“Vera Fyodorovna, where’s Michael?” Lena asked as she climbed out from under the blanket and threw on her robe.

“I think he went for a run. When I woke up, he was standing in the hall in shorts and sneakers. He tried desperately to explain something to me, but I didn’t understand. Then he made gestures, and I figured it out. He’ll probably be back soon. Maybe I’ll take Liza for a walk and give you a chance to get ready for work.”

“No need, Vera Fyodorovna. The weather’s awful, and I haven’t had time to pack Liza’s things. I wanted to do that this morning, but it turns out I have a meeting.” Lena smiled guiltily. “Everything’s been selected, washed, and ironed. You just have to put it in the suitcase.”

Lena didn’t wake up fully until she’d had a hot shower. Naturally, if you don’t go to bed before four thirty, you’re going to feel and look awful in the morning. All right, a little lipstick and powder. Looking in the mirror, Lena suddenly noticed that her eyes were different, worried, frightened even.

I’m not frightened. I got over that two years ago. I’m not frightened at all, she thought, and she tried to smile at her reflection.

“Nanny Vera made you coffee and an egg!” Liza informed her.

The doorbell rang. Michael was back from his run. He was beaming, his bald head was pink and damp.

“It’s raining,” he said cheerfully.

“Where did you run?” Lena inquired.

“Around the building. Fifty times. So I wouldn’t get lost.”

“There’s yogurt and orange juice for you in the fridge. I have to go to work for a couple of hours. Then my friend Olga will come and we’ll take you to the Tretyakov.”

“Sure. Your daughter’s going to teach me Russian while you’re out!” Michael said, and he headed for the shower.

“Vera Fyodorovna, don’t offer Michael salami or sausage. He’s a vegetarian,” Lena said, as she took her leather jacket out of the closet. “And he doesn’t drink coffee. I have a special herbal tea for him there, whole-grain bread, margarine, and jam. Will you be able to find it?”

“Don’t worry, child. I’ll figure it out.”

Kissing Liza and Vera Fyodorovna good-bye, Lena grabbed her purse and ran down the stairs. It was ten thirty. She hated being late.

It really was raining. And quite warm. Spring had arrived overnight.

It wasn’t far to Novodmitrovskaya Street, where her office was, but it was very inconvenient to get there on public transport—a transfer on the Metro and then four stops on the trolleybus. Lena decided to hail a car. A minute later a black Mercedes pulled up.

Rarely do owners of foreign cars moonlight as drivers. The Mercedes wasn’t a 600 series, it wasn’t new, and there was no one in the car but the driver, and Lena felt uneasy very briefly.

I shouldn’t have hailed a car. But he’s alone, and something could happen in the Metro, on the trolleybus, or on the street, too, she thought, and she glanced at her watch. She had twenty minutes until her meeting.

“Novodmitrovskaya. Past the Savelovsky Train Station. Thirty thousand,” Lena said.

“Let’s go.” The driver nodded. She got into the back seat.

“In a rush?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“Going to work?”

“Yes.”

They rode in silence for a while.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” the driver asked.

“Please do.”

“Would you like one?” Without turning around, he held out an open pack of some unfamiliar and probably very expensive cigarettes and a Ronson lighter.

“Thank you.” Lena took a cigarette. She really did want to smoke. She was nervous and in her haste had left her cigarettes at home.

“I’m sorry, you don’t happen to work at Smart magazine, do you?” the driver asked as he turned onto Novoslobodskaya.

“Yes. How did you know?” Lena said, surprised.

“Your photograph was in the issue before last.”

The editor in chief had had the idea of putting a photo montage on the back cover under the heading “Meet Our Staff.” It had the photos of nearly everyone. The magazine photographer had raced from department to department with his camera snapping everyone unsuspectingly, so it would be silly and casual.

He got Lena at her computer. She managed to look around and say, “Kolya, don’t. I look terrible—” at which point she heard a click. But the photo came out quite well. At least Lena was recognizable.

“You’re Elena Polyanskaya,” the driver went on. “You’re the head of the literature and art department. You’re thirty-six years old. You’re married and you have a two-year-old daughter named Liza.”

Lena’s heart started pounding. There’d been nothing under the photographs but their names and titles.

“I’m sorry,” she asked as calmly as possible. “Do we know each other?”

“Yes. You and I met a very long time ago and not in Moscow. But you haven’t changed at all. It’s just amazing.”

Stranger things have happened, Lena thought, a little calmer. It’s true I’ve barely changed in the last ten years. People I knew long ago often recognize me, but I don’t recognize lots of them right away.

“Remind me when and where, please,” she asked with a smile.

“In Tobolsk. June of ’82,” he said quietly.

Volkov? Lena screamed inwardly. Why did I get in this car? What does he want? Lord, what am I supposed to do? How should I behave?

Right then, he turned into a quiet side street, stopped, removed his cap and glasses, and turned abruptly to face Lena.

“Hello, Venya,” she said calmly. “How very nice to see you. Unfortunately, though, I’m in a hurry right now.” She took a quick glance at her watch. Eleven on the dot.

“Lena, are you hurrying to a planning meeting? Don’t worry. There isn’t one. You weren’t summoned to the office.”

“Meaning what?” She cautiously pulled at the door handle.

“Don’t try to open the door. It’s locked. I asked my audio director to call you at home. Her voice resembles Katya’s, especially over the phone. I said I wanted to play a trick on a good friend. I’m sorry, I couldn’t think of any other way to see you.”

“What for?” Lena asked, barely audibly.

“I had to see you. Don’t be afraid of me. Would you like coffee?”

“Yes.”

He took a thermos out of the glove box and two mugs and poured some for Lena and himself. The coffee was strong and sweet and milky.

Lena felt her teeth clatter against the china mug.

“If you have my phone number and needed to see me, why didn’t you just call me at home? Why make it so complicated, Venya?” She tried to smile. “Why have you locked the doors, and why would you think I would be afraid of you?”

“A long time ago I didn’t behave my best with you,” he said slowly. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

He was sitting half-facing her. Suddenly his face seemed lost, almost childlike.

“Venya, it’s been fourteen years. You and I are adults now. We’re not kids anymore. As far as I know, you’ve made a big success of your life. You’re a millionaire, the owner of the mighty Veniamin Productions. The whole country knows you. And you’re acting like a little boy.”

“Yes, Lena. It has been fourteen years. But it feels like yesterday to me. I still remember how your wet hair smelled after the bathhouse. I remember the taste of your lips and the feel of your skin. If you hadn’t pushed me away then, it might all have turned out differently.”

He’s insane, Lena thought, horrified. His hands are shaking. His eyes are wild.

“Did things really turn out so badly for you?” She tried to speak as calmly and kindly as she could. “Venya, don’t pretend. You’re rich and famous, and you have a beautiful wife.”

“I’m alone in the world. She doesn’t love me. No one loves me. She’s made a puppet out of me, a zombie. Lena, if you hadn’t pushed me away then…”

“Venya, this is very good coffee. Did you make it yourself?”

“You said then that something was burning in the kitchen. Now you’re talking about the coffee.”

“I’m sorry. Did you have something important to say to me?”

“Yes. Can you kiss me and stroke my head? Please, just a kiss and a stroke on the head. That’s it. That’s all I need from you.”

He pressed a lever and his seat abruptly dropped back. Lena shuddered. All of a sudden he was very close. He took the mug of coffee out of her hands, leaned over, and put it on the floor.

What am I supposed to do? Lena thought in a panic. The main thing is not to spook him or put him on his guard, not to let him know how terrified I am.

She cautiously ran her hand over his balding blond head. He caught her hand and pressed his lips to her palm.

“Lena, don’t abandon me. I’m in a very bad way.”

“Venya, why me?” she asked quietly. “You have so many women around you, all much prettier and younger than I am. All you have to do is crook your finger and any one of them will come running.”

“Yes, they’ll come running for my money, my connections, and my power,” he echoed.

“But you have a wife! She loves you—and not for your money and connections.”

He pressed her palm to his cheeks and looked into her eyes.

“You don’t love me, either,” he said sadly. “But you could have loved me the way I want, the way I need.”

“How do you know? It’s entirely possible nothing would have come of it. You just think it would be better with another woman. But romance is one thing and a long life together is totally different. Believe me, you should be glad you have beside you—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. He sunk his lips into her lips so greedily and hard that it hurt.

Some ancient, vague, saving instinct told Lena that she shouldn’t break away and resist right away. She didn’t respond to the kiss, but focused all her powers on enduring it.

As soon as he tore his lips away from hers, she said calmly and kindly, “Venya, please listen to me. Fourteen years ago it was exactly that kind of pressure, that kind of impetuosity that scared me off. Give me time. Don’t repeat old mistakes. You don’t want me to get scared of you again, do you? Then don’t rush me. I’m not going anywhere. I couldn’t forget you all these years, too, but something that’s hard at twenty-one is even harder at thirty-six. Give me a chance to get used to you. Do you really want it all to happen for us like this, in the car, in this dirty side street? Is that really what you’ve been waiting for for the last fourteen years? You and I aren’t teenagers. We both have families.”

She spoke and cautiously stroked his head like a child. She forced herself to believe what she was saying, afraid he’d be able to sense any hint of falseness, no matter how subtle.

“Now I understand I made a mistake then, fourteen years ago. But we still have time to fix our mistake. You and I are going to be calm and careful, so we don’t hurt anyone—not your wife, and not my husband. Okay?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Whatever you say.”

“Well then”—she gently kissed his forehead—“I’m not afraid of you. I believe you. I feel good and calm with you. Now we’re going to smoke another cigarette and go.”

“Where?” His voice was no longer hoarse, and his hands had calmed down.

“After the planning meeting you made up”—she smiled—“I was supposed to stop at the children’s store and buy spring shoes for my daughter. Do you have children, Venya?”

“No.” He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and they lit up. “My wife doesn’t like children. She never wanted them.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. What store do you want to go to for shoes for your Liza? Tell me about her. Who does she look like, you or your husband?”

“Both,” Lena replied evasively. “There’s a Children’s World nearby. Very close.”

“And then?”

“Then, Venya, I have to go home. Liza’s nanny is with her, and I have to let her go by one thirty.”

Lena was hoping he’d wait in the car and wouldn’t go into the store with her. But he did go in and didn’t leave her side for a minute. She examined one pair after another with such concentration, you’d think there was nothing more important in the world than children’s shoes.

When she headed for the cash register, he took out his wallet, but it turned out he only had US dollars and credit cards. Fortunately, the store didn’t take credit cards.

“Does your husband make so little?” he asked, taking the light box out of her hands.

“Why?”

“Because you’re buying clothing for your child in a store like this,” he said calmly.

“It’s a normal store.” She shrugged. “The ones that take credit cards sell the same things but at five times the price.”

While they were walking to the car, he held her arm. This time, she had to sit in the front seat, next to him.

“Why did you marry a police officer?” he asked as they drove.

“What’s wrong with a police officer?”

“Nothing,” he agreed. “Do you love your husband? Are you happy with him?”

“We have a normal family. Do you love your wife?”

“What do you think?” He grinned.

“What does she do? I mean, what’s her specialty?”

“She’s a doctor. A psychiatrist.”

“What’s her name?”

“Regina.”

“She must be a very strong and authoritative woman.”

“Let’s not talk about her right now. Let’s talk about you. I want to know what you’ve been doing for fourteen years. I want to know everything about you.”

“Fine, Venya. I’ll tell you. But not all at once. Fourteen years is a long time, a lifetime nearly.”

They were already pulling up to Lena’s building.

“When will we see each other?” he asked, stopping at the front door.

“I’ll call you.”

He took a business card out of his pocket and underlined two of the five numbers.

“This is my cell and this is my office. Can I call you? What should I say if your husband picks up the phone?”

“Of course you can.” She smiled. “If my husband picks up the phone, just say hello and ask him to call me to the phone.”

Before letting her out of the car, he kissed her again so greedily it hurt. Lena got scared that one of her neighbors would walk by, look into the car, which he’d parked so boldly by the front door, and recognize her. Cheating is like stealing, she thought, kissing Volkov. It’s worse than stealing. Although this doesn’t feel like cheating.

Flying through the front door, she raced up the stairs, ran the several flights, and stopped at a landing between floors to press her forehead into the cold tiled wall. She stood there until she heard the car pulling away. Only then did she take a deep breath and calmly climb the stairs to her own door.