She read his biography. Vanya was a top Chekist who had guarded Lenin himself in the early years in Petrograd and Moscow, 1917–19. Rising over the bodies of his bosses during the Terror, he must have been responsible for his share of crimes until…She found an arrest order, shortly before that of his wife. That must be why he looked more weary and angry than afraid: yes, he understood what was to come but he was bored by the procedures that he knew so well. What happened to him? She read and reread the file, noting the dates, trying to understand the sequence. Everything was there but nothing was what it said it was: it was in Soviet gibberish, the code of Bolshevism. She leafed ahead: Palitsyn had started to confess on June 7 and continued into July, August, and September. He too had been sent for trial.
“Time’s up,” said the Marmoset.
“Please—one second!” She skipped some pages and jumped to the end of the file. She had to find out what had happened to Palitsyn. She found a signed confession.
She noted down the dates in her notebook and sighed, wanting to cry. Why? For these two people whom she had never known?
“There’s no record of a sentence,” she said aloud. “Could they have survived? Could they be alive?”
“Does it say in the file that they died?” asked the colonel.
She shook her head.
“Well then…” He stood up and stretched.
“But there’s a lot missing from these files, Colonel. No details of sentencing. Perhaps the Palitsyns were sent to the Gulags and pardoned after Stalin’s death. I wish to apply for more files. I want to find out what happened to these people.”
“Is this a game, girl? Fa-la-la! Maybe you’ll be lucky. Maybe not. I’ll refer your request to my superior, General Fursenko. I’m just a cog in the machine.”
Katinka felt downcast suddenly. She had still not found out why Sashenka and her husband had been arrested. Captain Sagan’s confession was dated after their arrest. She did not believe Benya Golden’s story of his affair with Sashenka, let alone the conspiracy to assassinate the Party leaders, so perhaps this too was invented? And she still didn’t know if all this was in any way connected to Satinov.
As she slid the Sashenka file across the desk to the colonel, she accidentally bent back the blank list of those who had examined the file. On the other side were some scrawled names from 1956: her heart leaped. There it was:
The Marmoset started to check if each document was present, wetting his fingertips with his tongue as he turned the pages.
Katinka saw she had another minute or two. She quickly reopened Ivan Palitsyn’s file—and something caught her eye.
There it was, on the State Security letterhead, a handwritten order dated May 4, 1939:
Katinka stared at the signature.
Sashenka’s husband.
Afterward, Katinka walked through the Moscow streets, down the hill past the Bolshoi toward the Kremlin. She gripped her notebook and glanced at the stalls of the street vendors offering pirated CDs, sensationalist history pamphlets, American pornography, Italian showbiz magazines, even Peter the Great’s