Long before the proceedings were due to start, the Soviet press had begun to prepare the public for the trial. There was talk in the papers about the catastrophic situation in the coal industry and of how “bourgeois experts” had played a role in its collapse. The government had decided to keep even illiterate Soviet citizens informed about the trial by broadcasting radio reports through loudspeakers put up on the streets of Moscow.

The Bolsheviks were preparing the trial of the century, and Klim ought to have been pleased to have such an opportunity fall into his hands, but he seemed discontented.

Galina tried probing him gently. “What’s the matter?”

In answer, Klim handed her a paper dated April 14, 1928, with a transcript of a speech by Stalin.

The facts tell us that the Shakhty affair is an economic counter-revolution plotted by bourgeois experts. Moreover, the facts state that these experts, who have formed a secret cell, have been receiving money for sabotage from their former masters, who are now in emigration, and from counter-revolutionary anti-Soviet organizations in the West.

“They’ve already made up their minds before the trial,” said Klim. “Nobody has any doubt that the defendants are guilty.”

“You mean to say you don’t think they’re guilty?” Galina stared at him, amazed.

“I’d just like to know…”

But Klim did not finish what he had begun to say. No matter what Galina did, Klim still saw her as a potential informer, and when he was with her, he was careful what he said. Galina suspected that this was why he seemed unable to love her.

But if she resigned her position at the OGPU, Klim would have had to find a new assistant. Galina was stuck in a vicious circle. She could not leave the OGPU until Klim married her, but he would never marry her because of the nature of her work.

2

To get Tata a place in the art school, Galina needed a recommendation from her employers. She set off to OGPU headquarters straight away, but nobody could tell her who was responsible for what.

The Lubyanka was in a state of confusion. An order had come from the Kremlin bosses stating that a purge was imminent and employees showing insufficient zeal in the fight against counter-revolution were to be flushed out.

Something similar was taking place across all the organizations in the country. Every sector of the economy was failing, and directors, rather than waiting for a Shakhty Trail of their own, were taking things into their own hands. If they too were not achieving, it must mean there was sabotage in the workplace.

The purge at the OGPU had not yet been scheduled, but Galina’s friends from the administrative department were making haste to throw out all the fashion journals they had confiscated from Nepmen and to hide anything that might reveal a hankering for a bourgeois lifestyle. No longer could they collect pictures of foreign movie stars, bring knitting to work, or discuss how to do a permanent wave at home. Now, everyone was coming into work looking brisk and business-like and talking of nothing but the enemies of the state and support for the Party line.

Eteri Bagratovna, the secretary, whispered to Galina that Drachenblut had been receiving piles of anonymous denunciations every day. Alarmed at the prospect of dismissal, OGPU workers were starting to rat on any colleagues who might potentially cause problems for them during the purge. The personal files on staff members were growing fatter by the day. Everybody had some offence to their name. One had stolen rulers from work, another had arranged an unnecessary business trip for himself, and yet another had been heard to say something in favor of the opposition.

Galina went to see Alov in his office. She found him sitting on a windowsill and painting a lightbulb with nail varnish, the room full of the suffocating smell of solvent.

Alov looked at Galina with irritation. “What are you staring at? I’m marking the lightbulbs for our corridor. Somebody keeps unscrewing them and replacing them with burned-out ones. The supply manager is threatening to report us.”

Galina squinted at the cluster of lightbulbs on the table, bearing the bloodred inscription, “Stolen from the OGPU.”

“Where did you get the nail varnish?”

“Diana Mikhailovna gave it to me. ‘Their Royal Highnesses’ called a meeting and passed a resolution: they have decided not to paint their nails from now on. So, how about you? Any news?”

Galina told Alov that the building that had once housed the Moscow Savannah was now occupied by the League of Time. Its members were underfed, overworked students dedicated to the “scientific organization of labor,” including their own. Everywhere they went, they carried little notebooks in which they wrote down exactly what they did.

“Has Rogov mentioned Kupina again?” Alov interrupted.

Galina shook her head. “No, not once.”

“That’s a shame. You need to uncover a plot, Pidge, or you’ll have nothing to show for yourself when they start the purge. Keep a closer eye on those foreigners of yours, all right?”

Galina felt alarmed. Was Alov going to force her to make up some story about Klim? That was all she needed.

Alov studied her closely. “Why the long face? Has Mr. Rogov hurt your feelings?”

“No, of course not!” Galina quickly changed the subject. “I wanted to speak to you about Tata. She wants to try to get into the art school in Leningrad, but since it’s a boarding school, she needs a document from our employment committee. Can you help?”

Galina showed Alov one of Tata’s drawings.

“Wow!” His eyes became round in surprise. “I wonder which side of the family she got that from? Of course, I’ll have a word with the employment committee. But won’t the two of you be lonely without each other?”

“Of course we will,” Galina said, “but after all, she’s my child. I’d do anything for her.”

Alov put a hand on her shoulder, and Galina flinched. Surely he wasn’t about to try anything now? Oh, please, anything but that!

“I hope you won’t take it too hard…” Alov hesitated for a moment and cleared his throat awkwardly. “But you and I can no longer be on intimate terms. Don’t get me wrong. I’m fond of you, but I’m far too busy these days. And with this purge, anything could be used against us. It would be stupid to be dismissed from our job on account of low moral standards, wouldn’t it?”

Galina almost wept from relief. “Don’t worry,” she told Alov in a shaking voice. “I understand perfectly.”

Seeing tears in Galina’s eyes, he was touched. “You and I are building a new life, Pidge. We can’t carry on the way we used to.”

Galina came out of the office feeling elated. Thank goodness, he was finally going to leave her alone! And if everything worked out with the plan for Tata, it would be wonderful.

The inner courtyard was flooded with spring sunlight, and the first blooms of coltsfoot were dotted about below the fence like yellow buttons.

“Hello!” Ibrahim waved to her as she crossed the yard.

This time, not one, but three Black Marias stood next to the OGPU holding cells. The door of one of them was heavily smeared with blood.

“Beautiful weather we’re having!” Ibrahim shouted out happily. “We’ll be down at the river soon, swimming and sunbathing!”

He screwed a canvas hose to a faucet in the yard and began to wash down the car.

Galina walked hurriedly past. There was no point thinking about Black Marias or about who had been taken away in them the night before. Anyway, more likely than not it had been profiteers anyway. None of that had anything to do with her or with Klim.

3 BOOK OF THE DEAD

I think Weinstein must have been some sort of priest in a former life, and a high priest at that. He has taken my conversion to the communist faith very seriously, and the two of us have been talking at length on “theological” subjects.

I don’t dare try to dodge these conversations. It’s very important for me to be seen as a “friendly journalist” again because they will be given access to special materials during the Shahkty Trial.

Weinstein claims that he was a romantic in his youth and regarded both censorship and lies in the press as an unmitigated evil. But his views have changed with time.

“You have to get your priorities right,” he informed me with a condescending chuckle. “I ask you, what’s more important: achieving the result you want or fighting for one’s principles for the sake of it? The Soviet Union has to drag a hundred and fifty million people out of the middle ages and into the modern era. The Russian people are uneducated, and all your “basic human rights” mean nothing to them. We need to speak to Russians in a language the people understand.”

“And what language might that be?” I asked.

“Proverbs, sayings, spells, and curses. We need to unite people behind a common cause and get them to work for nothing. Not because we’re tightfisted but because the state has no money, and it won’t have any until we’ve built up our own industry.”

As Weinstein sees it, the purges that are taking place all over the country are a ritual cleansing before the great feat of industrialization. It’s like the way warriors prepared for battle in the old days: first, they would fast, pray, and repent, and then they would charge at the enemy with their spears, confident that God was on their side. And often, they would be victorious. Spiritual strength is a great weapon.

“What if we were to get rid of all censorship and the papers were to print the truth?” Weinstein asked me with a crafty smile into his beard. “What do you think would happen then?”