Read Someone Else's War: A Novel of Russia and America Page 86
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The process plodded on through Wednesday and late into Thursday. As they worked through the standard list of questions several times, from her sex life to her drug use, her comings and goings in Chechnya, her acquaintances and her personal habits, her interrogators began to feel more and more abashed. They’d come to admire her poise and calm dignity; they were more than a little in awe of her intelligence and strength. And of her record in Chechnya.
“Doctor, we see here that you were awarded the Order of Valor.”
“Yes.”
“Would you tell us about that?”
She paused. “I suppose I could say that a gentlewoman does not discuss her personal kills, but I don’t think that would be appropriate in this setting. Tell me, have you ever served in the military?”
“Yes. Both of us wanted careers in the security services and military service is a good way to come to the attention of the proper people. Along with university. As you may know, it is not possible to apply to the security services in the manner of applying for an ordinary job.”
“I did not know that. In America, you can apply for the CIA the way you would apply for…”
“Yes?”
“I was about to say, a job at McDonald’s.”
“Doctor, do not change the subject.”
“Very well. Have you been in combat situations?”
“No. Our service was cut short when we were selected for this.”
“I see. In combat, most people have two major emotions. One is fear. The other is excitement. You try to balance them because if you let them get out of balance, you are in trouble. You want the adrenaline, you want the excitement, but you also want the fear. At least enough fear to keep you cautious. Then there is training. The better your training, the more things you can do automatically, so your brain is free to concentrate on the moment. Combat is in many ways a very mechanical process.”
“We understand. But what did you do?”
For a moment, Olivia could not speak and she needed to look away from them while she composed herself. “In Chechnya, I had a personal security detail, led by a Warrant Officer Simonov. A fine man, perhaps a little younger than you, who loved the Army and life. He and his men were very kind to me and kept me very safe. He was killed when we went into a building that we had been told was secure. When someone close to you is killed like that, the normal fear and excitement fall away and you enter a world beyond rage and the limits of your body. Revenge does not begin to describe it. You become something of an avenging god, destroying utter evil with no sense of anything but the fullness of what you’re doing. Prisoners were taken out of that engagement, but I gave no one I encountered a chance to surrender. I was enraged and I was in pain, including the pain of being shot. The Chechens set the building on fire, but I wasn’t going to leave my friend’s body to burn. I wanted his widow to have his body. So I brought it out. If there were living Chechens in that building when I left, they didn’t live long. I hope their deaths were painful.”
“You were very close to him.”
“To all of them. We knew what we were thinking before we said it, as all good partners in war do.” She watched their faces and decided to make things a little easier for them. “Was this sexual? No. We were too close for that. We were brothers and sister. When we were apart, we barely thought of each other. But when we were in the field together, especially out with the units, it was a closeness where sex had little place.”
Then Olivia held up her hand. “Please, a favor, if we are going to be talking like this.” The two young men stared at her, startled. She had never asked for anything. Not food, not water, not a bathroom break, nothing. In normal interrogations, it was a significant advance if the source asked for things. It meant the subject was accepting dependence on the interrogator. But this was different.
“If we can.”
“I know that you wish me only to answer questions. Machine to machine, almost. But it is very hard to talk to you as human beings if I don’t know your names. I do know Colonel Raduyev’s name.”
They looked at each other. She had now taken them so completely off-script they couldn’t go back. “Doctor, we can’t tell you for security reasons. Proper procedures require us not to tell you our names, unless there is some compelling reason to do so. Colonel Raduyev introduced himself to emphasize that this is an interrogation that is of interest at senior levels. We do not have that option.”
“But if we’re going to be spending all this time together, courtesy requires that I call you something. Would you make up names?”
“We’re sorry. That is something that can be done at the beginning of an interrogation when it would seem honest. It is too late for that now.”
“Then may I choose?”
They both shrugged. “If you like.”
“Boris.” The name popped out automatically and she wondered where it had come from. At first, she thought of Boris, Suslov’s father. Then she realized, no, that’s not where it came from.
The first young man smiled his acceptance. His partner asked, “What is my name?”
“Boris,” she said again.
“But he’s Boris.”
“You’re now Boris, too.”
They stared at her, baffled. “And Arkady and…the other team. Who are they?”
“Boris. And Boris.”
They looked at each other and began laughing helplessly. One of the Borises asked, “Very well. As long as we’re playing this game, what may we call you? Would you prefer something other than Doctor Tolchinskaya?”
“Natasha,” she managed to gasp out between giggles, afraid that if she was not careful, her giggles would turn to tears.
“Why Natasha?”
She re-imposed control over herself and her emotions. “It’s an American thing.”