Face Me When You Walk Away (17 page)

‘No,' disagreed Josef. ‘I know the Western mind. Nikolai will be lionized.'

‘But Moscow …'

‘He said nothing about Russia that hasn't been publicly conceded in exploding the myths of Stalin and Khrushchev. Less, in fact. Yet from a world platform, he has jangled the skeletons in half the cupboards of the world. No one can level at Nikolai the accusation that he is politically naive. Neither can he be accused of not being aware of his own country's mistakes.'

‘Very clever,' admitted the ambassador, without feeling. ‘The only reservation is that everyone must interpret it as you have.'

‘They will,' promised Josef, confidently. ‘Those that matter, anyway.'

‘But they weren't his views, Josef,' guessed Sukalov. ‘They were yours. What's going to happen to Nikolai when he gets exposed to the television talk-shows and newspaper interviews?'

‘It just won't happen, will it?' rejected Josef, smiling. ‘My job is to protect him.'

‘I always thought writers were supposed to have integrity.'

‘What does that mean?' asked Josef, curiously.

‘Is Balshev so eager for the honour he's prepared to say whatever he's told? I already thought he might know he was being manipulated – now I'm wondering if he isn't a willing puppet.'

‘Show me a truly independent man, Comrade Sukalov, and I'll name a new religion after him,' said Josef.

‘It's time for me to circulate,' said Sukalov, the professional diplomat. He fitted the ambassador's smile into place and moved away. Endelman and Nikolai looked towards Josef.

‘James said I was magnificent,' opened Nikolai, stepping off on a predictable path. ‘Was I magnificent, Josef?'

‘Yes,' conceded the negotiator. ‘There were times when I felt you were enjoying it.'

‘I was,' admitted Nikolai.

‘I felt proud of him, too,' said Endelman.

Josef noticed that Nikolai was not bothering with the tray of drinks passing within arm's reach, content with the half glass of champagne that he had held for the past fifteen minutes. Suddenly Nikolai giggled, like a child with a secret, and raised his glass to the photographer.

‘We must toast Jimmy,' he said, to Josef. ‘Without him, that speech wouldn't have been possible.'

‘Don't,' said Endelman, his face serious.

‘Why not? Josef should know. He's my friend. Aren't you my friend, Josef?'

The negotiator looked at Endelman. ‘What did you give him?' he demanded, quietly, a suspicion confirmed.

‘They were quite safe,' said the photographer. ‘Just “uppers”.'

‘James is going to come and live with us,' announced Nikolai. ‘Seems ridiculous that he should stay elsewhere. He's moving in tonight.'

‘Oh.'

‘And Josef.'

‘What?'

‘See he's included in all the other reservations, will you?'

The author turned as Josef was about to reply, moving off to join Sukalov, who greeted him apprehensively.

Endelman smiled at Josef. ‘Sorry about that,' he said.

‘… Endelman.'

The photographer looked directly at Josef, the easy smile slipping away.

‘Less than eighteen hours ago, I made it clear to you that I objected to the facilities you were being allowed. I made it equally clear that I would withdraw those facilities if you became a nuisance. Even I didn't foresee you'd be pumping the man with drugs.'

‘Is that your prerogative then, Mr Bultova?'

‘Get out, Endelman,' said Josef. ‘Don't bother even to say goodbye to Nikolai.'

‘I don't think it's altogether up to you.'

He turned to where the writer was standing, amid a group of people from the Literary Academy. Nikolai saw the look and came over, smiling. Had they rehearsed it, wondered the negotiator.

‘I've been told to clear out, Nikolai,' announced Endelman.

Nikolai laughed and Josef knew the writer's announcement had not been the casual admission it had seemed, but contrived to create confrontation. Josef stared at the writer. Having broken through the eggshell, the baby was anxious to fly, he thought.

‘But I don't want Jimmy to go, Josef. So I won't allow it.'

He raised his voice, darting glances to ensure people were watching. Krantz, fearing a repetition of the earlier reception, frowned.

‘Nikolai,' said Josef, his voice quiet. ‘I'm running this tour …'

‘There's no need to whisper,' interrupted Nikolai, his voice higher. ‘I agree you run this tour. And you will continue to do so. You will run it exactly as I wish. And I wish Jimmy to stay.'

He turned to the photographer. ‘Let's circulate,' he said, heavily. Obediently, Endelman moved off in the writer's wake.

Sukalov hurried over. ‘What in God's name was that?'

‘Growing pains,' identified Josef, angry at the public humiliation.

‘Is he determined to wreck this damned tour?' demanded the diplomat.

Josef shook his head, gradually recovering.

‘He's not sure what he wants to do. Except get everyone to look at him.'

‘He's certainly succeeding in that.'

‘Unfortunately,' said Josef, ‘most of them are laughing.'

*

Because she had not been available, as people should be in times of illness, they were rude to Lady Bellamy at the clinic.

‘Cancer?' she echoed, in the consultant's office.

‘And a weak heart.' Perhaps her indifference was caused by shock, he thought. It happened sometimes. The man was prepared to make allowances.

‘He knew little pain. It was only under anaesthetic that we really learned how extensive it was. We knew his heart was weak, but we didn't realize that the operation would last as long as it did. He died without regaining consciousness.'

‘Fancy,'she said, like someone commenting upon a cricket score.

15

They were necessary to him, so Josef knew exactly the amount of tranquillizers, drugs and sleeping pills he carried in his case. It was two days after the ceremony, when they were packing for London, that he realized some had been stolen. His control over Nikolai had diminished as Endelman's had grown, and Josef was anxious not to make an unfounded accusation that would allow Nikolai another opportunity for contempt. Three times he counted the contents of each bottle. There were ten valium and librium tablets missing, eight methalaquone and fifteen capsules from each of the bottles containing chlordiazepoxide and diazepam. He sat for nearly fifteen minutes, staring into the repacked briefcase. He would have to challenge the man, of course. Nikolai would expect the accusation. To avoid it would be making a bigger concession than losing yet another argument. He accepted he would have to lose because of Nikolai's growing awareness of his own importance, like a child showing off at his own birthday party.

‘Nikolai,' called Josef. The separating door was open.

‘What?'

‘I'd like to see you.'

‘I'm here.'

‘In here, please, Nikolai.'

‘I'm busy, Josef.'

The negotiator detected Endelman's smirk of amusement as he entered the adjoining suite. He had the briefcase in his hand.

‘What have you done with the pills you took from my case?'

‘You see!' said Nikolai, triumphantly, turning to the photographer. ‘I told you he'd notice them.'

He turned back to Josef. ‘We had a bet. Jimmy said you wouldn't realize it, but I knew you were cleverer than that.'

‘Give them back to me,' said Josef, extending his hand.

Nikolai laughed at him.

‘But I need them, Josef. I like the sensation. We mix them with the amphetamines that Jimmy has and the sensation is tremendous. Much better than sex.'

Josef sighed, helplessly. More stage management, he thought. Why was it so important for insecure people to prove themselves?

‘I want you to stop taking pills,' he said. ‘And I want those back you haven't yet taken.'

‘You're making yourself look ridiculous,' said the writer. ‘I've made it quite clear how this tour is going to be conducted. You really must stop telling me what to do. Pills do me good. I can meet people. Without the confidence they give me, I might make mistakes and that would reflect badly upon Russia. We neither of us want that, now do we?'

He'd assimilated sarcasm very well, thought Josef. He looked at Endelman, who shrugged.

‘Jimmy's on my side,' said the writer. ‘It's no good looking to him for support.'

‘It can't cause a lot of harm,' offered the photographer.

‘That's bollocks and you know it,' said Josef.

Nikolai glanced at his watch. ‘You'd better hurry, Josef,' he said. ‘The car is due here in thirty minutes and we don't want to miss the plane, do we?'

Stanswell organized the London reception well. The arrival press conference was as large as that in Stockholm a week before, but the questions were less demanding. The newly confident Nikolai volunteered answers for Josef's translation and on several occasions groped replies in English. There was a large section of book critics who dealt solely with the novel on its artistic merit and even the political questions were easily answered. No one probed Josef's association. The London ambassador, Dimitry Listnisky, was at the airport with a small delegation. He was withdrawn and barely courteous, recognizing the politics and unwilling to become involved with them. Josef had expected an embassy reception, but the ambassador said nothing. He wondered hopefully if the diplomats in America would similarly ignore him. It was hardly likely, he thought.

They travelled into London in a fleet of limousines, Stanswell in the same vehicle as Josef and Nikolai.

‘I did well, didn't I?'

‘Yes,' agreed Josef, wearily.

The portly publisher looked at Josef questioningly.

‘He appreciates the welcome you've arranged,' lied the negotiator. Stanswell smiled, pleased.

‘There's a Foyle's lunch,' said the publisher. ‘And a dinner for selected critics. Some paperback publishers will be there, too. Incidentally, we want to publish the Nobel lecture. I suppose you'll print it in Russia, to keep the copyright?'

Josef nodded. Even the professional pride in negotiating a good price seemed an effort. He determined on a holiday as soon as he got back to Russia. He mustn't forget the promise to telephone Pamela, he thought.

‘We thought of five thousand pounds. And twenty per cent, like we agreed on the novel, with you retaining the paperback rights.'

Josef nodded. He could probably get another one thousand pounds, he knew. Why bother?

‘Fine,' he said.

Stanswell seemed surprised. ‘Good,' he said.

‘I will have a suite at the hotel, won't I?' demanded Nikolai.

‘Yes,' sighed Josef.

‘And Jimmy?'

‘He's on the same floor.'

‘You're doing very well, Josef.'

‘I know you aren't keen,' interrupted Stanswell, ‘but there's been an approach from the leading television talk-show here. I said I'd let them know after discussing it with you.'

‘He has virtually no English,' pointed out Josef. He recalled his earlier decision not to allow Nikolai to undergo such exposure. Beneath the conceit and drug-induced euphoria there was still a nervous, frightened man, he thought. Such exposure would still be a strain.

‘They said his lack of English didn't matter. They'll record it and run translations beneath when it is finally shown.'

‘I'd insist on the right to edit anything I didn't like. And I'd be there myself, of course.'

‘They seemed keen for you to appear, as well.'

Josef frowned. Another fiasco, like that in Stockholm? He turned to Nikolai.

‘How do you feel about going on television?' he asked.

Nikolai straightened, turning his head almost into an imagined photographic pose. Christ, thought Josef.

‘I'd like it,' he said, immediately. ‘I shall look good. Jimmy is going to take me to some tailors he knows here, so that I can buy something better than these pieces of sacking.'

There were more cameramen at the hotel and Nikolai preened, delighted at the attention. He was pleased with the Savoy suite, bustling from room to room, shouting at the discoveries. He played with the television, turning to Josef.

‘I shall be very good,' he predicted again, clicking from station to station. ‘Tell Stanswell to agree.'

They ate that night at Stanswell's London home, an exquisitely furnished mews house off Montpelier Square. Nikolai insisted that Endelman accompany them and Stanswell acquiesced immediately, assuring them it would cause no inconvenience. The request disturbed Josef. He was becoming increasingly worried at the growing influence Endelman appeared to be having upon the writer. But he had to concede the advantages. In Endelman's company, Nikolai never drank excessively. He looked across the table and smiled at the thought. As it came, Nikolai had been sipping from a water glass. It was a good evening. It became, for Josef, the most pleasurable occasion since he had embarked upon the tour. He enjoyed Stanswell's company. Two critics who were there he found pleasant, too. One had a flawed command of Russian and joined in the writer's conversation with Endelman, whose control of the language, forced as he had been to speak it almost continuously for a week, had improved. Listnisky attended, to Josef's surprise, but stayed aloof. Every word, Josef knew, would be reported back to Moscow. They left before ten p.m., going straight back to the hotel. His name was called as he was collecting his key. He turned to face an attractive, blonde-haired woman, perhaps a well-preserved forty-five, but certainly looking younger.

‘You don't recognize me,' she challenged.

‘I'm sorry …' began the negotiator, then remembered the photograph on Pamela's dressing-table.