Sashenka

That night, she could not sleep. She listened to the chug of locomotives and hiss of steam, the never-quiet rumble of people and machines in the station. Carolina looked down at the pale faces of the children, at Snowy pressing her pink cushion against her lips for comfort, and, for the first time since she left Moscow, she started to cry.

39

“Prisoner seven hundred seventy-eight, sit down. Now, did you sleep well?”

Sashenka, disheveled, pale, dehydrated and barely strong enough to speak, shook her head.

“Is your cell comfortable? How is the air circulating in this hot summer?”

Sashenka said nothing.

Investigator Mogilchuk swept a hand over his thick pompadour and stroked the papers in front of him. It was the same as yesterday and the day before and the day before that. Sashenka had spent three days on the so-called conveyor. No sleep in an overheated cell had broken stronger prisoners than her. After breakfast and slopping out, they brought her back to this interrogation room.

“Your cheek has come up with quite a bruise. It’s black and blue.”

Sashenka touched it gingerly. It was very painful. Perhaps her cheekbone was fractured, she thought.

“Let’s start again. Remember your uncle Mendel. Do not wait until we force you! Begin your confession! Then we’ll let you sleep and solve that heating problem in your cell. Would you like a night’s sleep?”

“I have nothing to confess. I am innocent.”

“Then how do you reconcile the fact of your arrest with that declaration of innocence? Do you think I’m a clown and Comrade Beria’s just passing the time of day?”

“I don’t understand it myself. I can only think it’s a mistake or the result of a misunderstanding caused by some coincidences.”

“The Party doesn’t recognize coincidences,” said Mogilchuk. “You saw Comrade Investigator Rodos in Comrade Beria’s office? He’s quite a man, a legend in the Organs, more like a dangerous beast: we have to stop him killing prisoners all the time. In fact, he’s damaged quite a few people close to you this very week. He says he gets a red mist before his eyes and forgets himself. He hates our sort, Sashenka. He hates intellectuals! You might have to meet him soon if you don’t disarm. But you’re in luck. I’m going to give you one more chance: I am going to introduce someone who might jog your memory.”

He picked up the telephone on his desk. “Deliver the package!” he said genially.

He smiled at Sashenka, removed and replaced his spectacles, and checked his pompadour. They waited in silence. The phone rang.

“Yes, yes, comrade, we’ll wait for you.”

Mogilchuk left the room for a moment and then returned. “Just making sure everything is just so.”

“Can I have a glass of water?” Sashenka repeated Vanya’s instructions to herself and then, under her breath but still moving her lips, she chanted, “Snowy, Carlo, Cushion, Bunny.”

Mogilchuk was pouring her out a glass when the door burst open and Kobylov pretended to creep in, raising his huge shiny hands with the many glistening rings.

“Pretend I’m not here, Comrade Investigator. I’ll hide over here in the corner!” Just like a headmaster sitting at the back to observe a teacher’s class, the fragrant giant leaned against the wall and crossed his boots.

There was a knock on the door.

“Your show!” Kobylov whispered and wrinkled his nose at Sashenka. She looked away. “Tired?” he hissed.

“Enter!” piped up Mogilchuk. “The confrontation starts now.” The door opened. The torturer from Beria’s office entered. “Welcome, Comrade Rodos,” Mogilchuk said.

Butterflies of physical fear fluttered in Sashenka’s belly. Rodos moved slowly as if made of rusty steel. He nodded at his comrades and then looked Sashenka straight in the eye. He sat down in the chair next to Mogilchuk and started to play with the long red hairs of the mole on his chin. This was the Sashenka team: Kobylov was in charge, with Mogilchuk and Rodos as the soft and hard men. Just to break her? No, they must be working on some bigger case, she thought; one that involved poor Mendel. Her natural optimism, barely still beating in her breast, told her she would survive this. No one had yet broken, that was clear.

So who were they bringing to surprise her? She had already seen Mendel—a heartbreaking, dreadful sight.

If it was Vanya, and he had told lies against her, she would understand that, under the ministerings of Rodos, he had crossed into the other world: she would still beam her love at him. She would not confess: she could still survive.

If it was Benya, darling Benya of the eight stars, of the seven thousand rubies, he was beyond blame now. She had rung him that day to say “I love you.” Now she loved him once more, convinced he was as innocent as she. If she never got out of the Lubianka, she would always be grateful that she had known such a love.

But she would not confess, whatever anyone said, because she was still innocent. And if she did not confess, she would one day be freed. And she would reclaim Snowy and Carlo. It was all for them now.

The door opened.