按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Irina would watch him eat； longing for him to say something； or even look at her； but he seemed totally absorbed with eating； as if he would die if he did not cram every bit of food on his plate into his mouth as quickly as possible。
One night when Irina was alone with him； she chanced to pass the bedroom； and saw Pavel undressing through the partly open door。 He had his back to her； and as he raised his shirt over his head； she stifled a gasp。 The ridged muscles of his curved back were disfigured by the crisscrossing of many scars。 They were not new； but the cuts had been so deep that they never healed properly。
Hearing her； Pavel whirled around； stared hard。 Irina was terrified that he would be angry at her； but instead Pavel sat down on the end of the bed； held out his hand to her。
Irina walked hesitantly into the bedroom。 She saw her mother's wood and gilt icon on the wall over the headboard； the cheap prints of the Russian countryside her father had loved so dearly； the rocker that was always Babushka's when the family had lived outside Moscow。
Pavel took Irina's hand in his scarred callused ones。 〃Have I frightened you； koshka？ I am sorry。 I am not a handsome man。 I know I am lucky to have found your mother。 Most women would not look at me。 My first wife used to mock me； but I like to think she loved me nonetheless。〃 He frowned。 〃Do you understand this？ No； perhaps not。〃 He shrugged。 〃Well； it has nothing to do with the scars on my back； except that when my father used to beat me； he'd say； 'You beast； you monster！ You cannot be mine！ What nightmare did you e from！' 〃
〃Oh； how awful！〃 Irina had cried。
〃In a way it was；'' Pavel said softly。 ''But only in a way。 You see； I was happy to take my father's anger； because I knew that then he would leave my mother alone。 On the nights when he would e home drunk and couldn't find me； he'd start on my mother。 I can still hear her screams。 Oh； but they were terrible！ They would make me weep。 My brothers would huddle together in the far corner of our room； but I would go out into the hall because I had to help her。〃 Pavel's eyes were turned inward； and at last there was a spark in them。 〃One night I couldn't stand it anymore。 I ran into the kitchen； grabbed a carving knife and…〃
〃You killed him？〃 Irina's eyes were opened wide。
Pavel's eyes returned to the present； focusing on her。 〃No； no； koshka。 My father took the knife out of my hand and whipped me。 Oh； how it hurt； but I had stopped him from beating my mother； and that was a good feeling； I can't describe how good。''
〃What happened to them？〃
〃My parents？ My father died of a liver disease brought on by his drinking。 But that was three years after my mother had died。''
〃That time must have been bad。〃
〃Bad； yes。 Very bad。〃 Pavel looked at her； then impulsively hugged her to him。 ''But do not think of these evil things； koshka。 I am here to protect you and your mother。〃
Pavel had kept his promise for as long as he had lived。 But he； it seemed； like Irina's father； was in a hazardous profession。 He developed acute emphysema from the quantities of harsh dust he inhaled each day on the job。 By then Yvgeny was dead； and the family； spinning helplessly out of control； fell apart。 Irina's mother was not good at taking care of him…she was not even capable of taking care of her own children。
Irina stared now at the Church of the Archangel Gabriel； where her mother had taken her so often。 Abruptly； it； too； seemed alien； part of another time； another place； a sanctuary for another Irina； not this woman who stood here； at last breaking free of her memories； her rage at the helplessness of being a child； and far worse； a female child； set adrift in a world made for men。 All this emotional baggage seemed removed； a distant report like thunder booming far off； diminishing with each moment。
White Star。
Irina turned back into the apartment。 Somewhere in here； she thought； there must be some hint of the information Valeri held on the nationalist group。 She crept carefully through every inch of his closets； looking in the pockets of his trousers and suit jackets； opening unmarked boxes； sifting through piles of linen； old photographs。 At his desk she leafed through official papers； personal correspondence； blank paper。
Her exposure to the films of James Bond…a favorite of the students she knew…while she was in America had taught her to look behind pictures hung on the walls； inside the medicine cabinet in the bathroom。 In the living room she unzipped slipcovers； got down on all fours； running her hand around the bottom part of the furniture frames。
She ended up in the kitchen； peering inside metal canisters of flour； sugar； and tea to make sure there wasn't some bit of paper secreted there。 All her sleuthing came to nothing。
She sat wearily down in a dinette chair； stared blankly at the dark screen of the Toshiba lap…top。 An hour and a half of bing through Valeri's apartment； and nothing to show for it。
Sitting here； alone； reminded her of all the mornings she had sat in this very spot watching Valeri prepare wonderful breakfasts。 In the winter it was always warm in here； as it had been in Babushka's kitchen； the mouthwatering smells irresistible。 It was difficult if not impossible for Irina to reconcile this image of Valeri…and the one of the man so tender and loving in bed… with the knowledge that Valeri was a colonel in the KGB。 She recalled his saying that the KGB's new accountability to the Congress of Peoples' Deputies had changed nothing； it had merely swept KGB operatives further underground。 She shuddered。
The puter screen； witness to everything； repository of all truths； sat silent and dead； mocking her。
All of a sudden she recalled an American film called Charade she had seen in the small Cambridge art theater； and she began to look for anything in plain sight that would be so familiar the eye would automatically pass over it。
Then her eyes focused； and jumping up； Irina whispered； 〃My God； it has been visible all the time！''
She turned on the Toshiba。 She was familiar with the software Valeri had had installed。 Quickly she got a list of the directories on the hard disk； but nothing looked sinister。 In fact； all that came up were recipe files。 She looked for Macros…〃hidden〃 strings of mands activated by a double keystroke…but could find none。 Her excitement faded。 Well； naturally； she thought sourly； this isn't a movie。 Of course； Valeri could have the White Star material secreted on a hidden floppy disk； but she had been all through the apartment without turning up anything。
Then a fragment of a recent conversation surfaced。 How do you find time to get all those recipes in memory？ she had asked Valeri。 And he had replied； I get some help。 There's a ghost in the machine。
Irina approached the puter again； and this time pressed the Reveal Codes key。 Nothing。 She frowned。 She had been so sure that Valeri's 〃ghost〃 would have been in Reveal Codes； an 〃invisible〃 mark held in the text。
Text！
What an idiot I am； she thought。 She cleared the screen； retrieved the first text file in the directory。 A menu for 〃Southern Fried Chicken〃 came up。 Irina hit the Reveal Cod