Page 24 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

"Why would he do that?"

"You're very attractive." Daniil was not coming on to Tanya. He lived with a male friend and she was sure he was one of those men not drawn to women. He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. "Beautiful, and talented, and--worst of all--young. Pyotr won't find it difficult to hate you. Try a little harder with him." Daniil drifted away.

Tanya realized he was probably right, but she decided to think about it later, and returned her attention to her typewriter.

At midday she got a plate of potato salad with pickled herrings from the canteen and ate at her desk.

She finished her third article soon afterward. She handed the sheets of paper to Daniil. "I'm going home to bed," she said. "Please don't call."

"Good work," he said. "Sleep well."

She put her notebook in her shoulder bag and left the building.

Now she had to make sure she was not being followed. She was tired, and that meant she was likely to make foolish mistakes. She felt worried.

She went past the bus stop, walked several blocks to the previous stop on the route, and caught the bus there. It made no sense, which meant that anyo

ne who did the same had to be following her.

No one was.

She got off near a grand pre-revolutionary palace now converted to apartments. She walked around the block, but no one appeared to be watching the building. Anxiously she went around again to make sure. Then she entered the gloomy hall and climbed the cracked marble staircase to the apartment of Vasili Yenkov.

Just as she was about to put her key in the lock the door opened, and a slim blond girl of about eighteen stood there. Vasili was behind her. Tanya cursed inwardly. It was too late for her to run away or pretend she was going to a different apartment.

The blonde gave Tanya a hard, appraising stare, taking in her hairstyle, her figure, and her clothes. Then she kissed Vasili on the mouth, threw a triumphant look at Tanya, and went down the staircase.

Vasili was thirty but he liked girls young. They yielded to him because he was tall and dashing, with carved good looks and thick dark hair always a little too long and soft brown bedroom eyes. Tanya admired him for a completely different set of reasons: because he was bright, brave, and a world-class writer.

She walked into his study and dropped her bag on a chair. Vasili worked as a radio script editor and was a naturally untidy man. Papers covered his desk, and books were stacked on the floor. He seemed to be working on a radio adaptation of Maxim Gorky's first play, The Philistines. His gray cat, Mademoiselle, was sleeping on the couch. Tanya pushed her off and sat down. "Who was that little tart?" she said.

"That was my mother."

Tanya laughed despite her annoyance.

"I'm sorry she was here," Vasili said, though he did not look very sad about it.

"You knew I was coming today."

"I thought you'd be later."

"She saw my face. No one is supposed to know there is a connection between you and me."

"She works at the GUM department store. Her name is Varvara. She won't suspect anything."

"Please, Vasili, don't let it happen again. What we're doing is dangerous enough. We shouldn't take additional risks. You can screw a teenager any day."

"You're right, and it won't happen again. Let me make you some tea. You look tired." Vasili busied himself at the samovar.

"I am tired. But Ustin Bodian is dying."

"Hell. What of?"

"Pneumonia."

Tanya did not know Bodian personally, but she had interviewed him, before he got into trouble. As well as being extraordinarily talented, he was a warm and kindhearted man. A Soviet artist admired all over the world, he had lived a life of great privilege, but he was still able to get publicly angry about injustice done to people less fortunate than himself--which was why they had sent him to Siberia.

Vasili said: "Are they still making him work?"

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