Read Someone Else's War: A Novel of Russia and America Page 71

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  They brought Olivia to her home, numb with a mixture of fear, utter shame, and shameful relief that, finally, it was happening. But—her mind began to function again—she had perhaps assumed too easily that this was the Lyons idiocy. She could not yet be sure. All she could be sure of at the moment was that there was one man on either side of her and a man and a woman trailing behind, but no handcuffs or leg irons. A courtesy, she knew, that could be revoked at any second. Maria Fedorovna opened the door to them, then fell back.

  “Oh, no, Doctor. Please, not you.”

  “I am afraid so, my dear. They have sealed the lab and they are sealing the house. I am told that I am a prisoner of status. They have some questions for me and I will be enjoying the hospitality of the Lubyanka for a few days.” She turned to Zhuralev. “Maria Fedorovna will have a place to go?”

  “Yes, Doctor. We are going to be debriefing her rather extensively. Decent accommodations will be provided.”

  “Maria Fedorovna,” Olivia said, turning back, “Speak of me honestly, as you have found me, and all will be well.”

  She has far more faith than I do. “This is real?”

  “Yes, my dear.”

  It’s starting again… Maria Fedorovna made her decision. It was pitifully little, but it was what she could do. “They are allowing you to pack a bag?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I will help you.”

  Olivia swallowed hard and composed herself before she spoke. Tears were not for the security services. “That is unnecessary.”

  “For me, now, it is very necessary, Doctor.”

  “As you will, my friend.” Olivia had never called her that before.

  Olivia, Maria, Zhuralev, and the matron went into her bedroom. Olivia was uncertain whether she was packing for prison or suicide, but planned for either eventuality. She asked Maria to get her warm socks and long underwear, jeans and a sweater. Then she put in a favorite suit and blouse. By instinct, perfume: Guerlain’s Djedi. By instruction, her medications: codeine, valium, and morphine. Then a kit of toiletries. Maria packed Olivia’s current knitting, a bell-sleeved lace tunic, worked not in the white gossamer yarns most people associated with lace, but in a heavier yarn of deep lavender.

  Then Olivia kissed Maria Fedorovna. “If we do not see each other again, I have loved you very much, my friend.” Her voice was steady and her eyes were dry.

  “And I you, Doctor. You been one of the great blessings of my life.”

  They left the bedroom and went down to the street. Zhuralev handed the suitcase to his driver, then motioned to the others to get in their cars.