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Now； entering Valeri's kitchen； Irina could smell onions and； startlingly； shallots sauteing in a skillet。 She sat at the small black…and…white； marble…patterned Formica table that might have been at home in an American kitchen of me 1950s。 Valeri brought her yogurt from the Ukraine； and tea into which she dropped two cubes of sugar； a perquisite in the sugar…starved Soviet Union even she was not privy to on her own。
She watched Valeri carefully stirring the eggs into the hot skillet。 This was another benefit of spending the night with Valeri： she adored being served breakfast。 She was an excellent cook in her own right…one of the few gifts her mother had passed down to her…and had the cook's special appreciation of being served food by another good cook。 But it was not an unadulterated pleasure； because she always felt a pang of guilt； as if this small decadence indulged in while others starved would weaken her； would somehow make her unfit for the continual struggle of life here。 She had spent much time in America； learning new educational methods； but also absorbing the Western way of life。 Sometimes； when she was most depressed about Russia； she worried that she had been irrevocably contaminated by the West。 Too often she found herself making parisons between where she had been （Boston） and where she was now （Moscow）； and being despondent over Moscow's shortings。 Her sojourns in America had brought into question the validity of the entire Soviet way of life。 This was her secret； her terrible burden； and she knew that she must never allow Valeri to know she harbored these treasonous thoughts。
She said； with all the patriotic zeal she could foster； 〃What progress have you made in penetrating White Star？〃
Valeri delivered a rude expletive。 〃That bastard organization of minority dissidents。 They're like ghosts。 Can you believe it？ White Star has remained hidden from us。 This should be impossible in our country。 My guess is that they are somehow being supplied by the West。 How else to account for our failure to discover even one of their cells？ 〃
' 'It seems to me that you don't even know if they exist。''
〃Oh； White Star exists； I've no doubt of that。〃 He gave a short laugh。 〃We； the government； are the only ones adept enough at propaganda to create a phantom organization。 God knows； we've done it often enough。〃 He waved a hand。 〃No； no。 The only real question is whether or not White Star is responsible for the wave of nationalist uprisings in Georgia； Uzbekistan； the Baltics； even the Bashkir Autonomous Republic。 In every case； the rioters are well led and are even better…armed： handguns； machine pistols； even mortars are being mon。 They are being supplied by someone。〃
〃Isn't Ufa； the site of that recent awful dual train disaster； in Bashkir？〃
Valeri nodded。 ''Over two hundred people died in the crash。 But it wasn't an accident。 It was sabotage。 A cadre of Red Army generals was on one of those trains。 They were bound for a top secret military base in the Urals。 All of them were killed。''
〃Sabotage？〃 Irina said。 〃I had no idea。〃
〃Nor has anyone else； beyond a select few。〃 Valeri cleared his throat。 〃The truth is； an alarming spate of terrorist acts has been proliferating since Chemobyl。 An internal investigation； made immediately secret； proved that the nuclear event at Cher…nobyl was a deliberate act of sabotage。 It was the first； but it was a disaster of such dimensions that it should have put us on notice that these people are quite serious； and quite mad。 However； bureaucracies are the same the world over： overstaffed； underutilized； bloated with inertia。 And never more so than here in Russia。''
〃My God； what you're telling me is incredible。〃
〃Unfortunately； you're not the first to say that。 It took me some time to convince the president of the need for an antina…tionalist task force。 And that I should be put in charge of it。〃
〃But White Star is supposed to be posed of Ukrainian nationalists；〃 Irina said。
Valeri considered the rest of her unspoken question。 〃It is true that White Star's leadership is Ukrainian and so am I；〃 he said at last。 〃But we want two separate things。 My loyalty is to the state。 Theirs is to themselves。
〃Now； however； it appears possible that White Star's membership has became more eclectic。 It might even turn out to be the first pan…minority nationalist group； embracing the Georgians； Estonians； Latvians； Lithuanians； even the Moslem minorities。 That would naturally exponentially increase White Star's power； and its danger to us； the state。
〃These people have no idea what it is they want。 Anarchy。 Chaos。 Not a better； more cohesive dialectically consistent whole。 If they gain autonomy； they will； like as not； begin warring with each other。 They are primitives； misguided。 Who better than me…a Ukrainian； a member of a Soviet minority…to show them the dangerous error of their ways？''
Irina did not know whether she felt admiration or disgust。 Perhaps it was a bination of both。 She suspected that there was a measure of truth to what Valeri said。 Dissidents' motives were often muddled； because they stemmed from the irrational： anger and fear。 And the sad truth was that revolutionaries rarely had any idea how to wield power once they got it； so they ended up making a mess of things。 Yet she wanted to say； But can't you see that this White Star is a symbol； a yearning of the non…Russian people to be free？ Don't you see it as a sign that a change must e； just as it has e on other Eastern European nations？ Are you and your ilk so far from the czars； after all？
If only she could trust someone。 It was awful having to bottle up one's true feelings every hour of the day and night。 A nightmare。 Her nightmare： imprisoned in her own country。 How she longed to confide in someone； but there was no one she could trust； not even the priest at the Church of the Archangel Gabriel。 Certainly never； ever Valeri Denysovich Bondasenko。 So she held her tongue； continued to play the good little Russian girl with him。''What a perfect pragmatist you are；〃 she said evenly。
〃munism is the essence of pragmatism； so I must be an expert；〃 Valeri said。 〃Now e； breakfast is ready。〃
He brought the omelettes and his own glass of strong tea。 As was his habit； he had already consumed his portion of yogurt while he was doing the cooking。
〃This is delicious；〃 Irina said； tearing off a hunk of coarse black bread。
Valeri grunted。 〃The recipe is from the New York Times。 It didn't help that I couldn't get butter。 Pierre Franey says that butter makes all the difference。 I had to use oil。〃
〃It's just as well；〃 Irina said。 〃Oil is far healthier。 It's not full of cholesterol。'' Her fork stopped midway to her mouth。 My God； she thought； we sound just like husband and wife。 Have I actually begun to get used to this life of deceit and treachery？ God forbid。 But she thought again of what Valeri had said about her wanting to be free； and the fear gripped her again。
〃What is it？〃 Valeri said。 〃You look pale。〃
Irina took a bite of her omelette to give herself some time。 〃I。 。 。 was just thinking about tonight…and Mars。〃
Valeri delivered a colorful oath。 〃That sonuvabitch is out to bury