6

But where was Pavel gone? That was the question I asked myself after I had left the hotel's room. I didn't dare call him at that hour. Pavel could be with his wife who, as he had told me earlier, had attempted suicide and was in the ICU. I was to seek ways of freeing Pavel's son by myself. I had already failed to do it in the surest way that night, and was at a loss as to what to do next.

Another question I didn't dare ask myself was why I had become an object of a hunt in so short time. I clearly was a threat to somebody, who wanted to take me out of circulation. The most disturbing thing was that federal agents were after me. I was puzzled. I didn't know where to go. Every place where I was headed that night was in a way or another contaminated with violence, murder or, anyhow, posed a threat to my life.

I had an apartment in the near suburb of Moscow, but my instinct told me: that place was not safe either.

I could do better by taking another room on my own account in that same hotel, though I had no money nor permission to do so. The alternative was to spend the time somewhere in the street or in a railway station like a tramp. The hotel room seemed more preferable but had the disadvantage that I would be easier to find if the hotel personnel had been warned about me. I felt for the small bag of the disguise kit with yellowish moustache and brows, a mirror and some glue, in my internal pocket I carried always with me for unexpected events. I thought I might use it, at least it would deceive the partner of his recent attacker that I was sure would be waiting for me in the lobby. I took the kit out, squeezed out some glue – for a second I feared there was none left, but then a drop or two came out of the tube -, applied it under my nose and above my eyes, stuck the moustache and the brows, looking into the mirror. At the moment of the registration at the reception desk I would produce my ID card and make a wink to the clerk to let him know that an innocent spy game was on, he would understand, at least I hoped so.

When I came down to the lobby, my quick glance around caught no human figure, it was apparently empty. There was nobody at the reception desk either. But as I came up to the desk, a clerk appeared from nowhere.

"What can I do for you?".

"I'd like to take another room," I said. "I'm registered already here, room 23, but I need another one, for logistics necessity", and I looked at the clerk in a meaningful way.

The clerk said with indifferent politeness:

"Sure, sir. Would you give me a document, please?"

"Why do you need another room?" a voice sounded behind me, that made me start.

I turned round and saw Lena who was striking as ever, even with the shadows under her tired eyes, her hair hastily brushed up after a recent confusion.

"What are you doing here, Lenka, Jesus Christ! At such time?"

"And you?" she said, without taking her stern and mocking eyes off me. For a second it seemed to me there glistened a tear on her cheek. No, it was only a false impression. "With that moustache you're more macho."

"I'm sleepy", I said. "But somebody doesn't want to let me sleep. How are things with you? Are you ok?"

She nodded:

"I'm ok".

The clerk at the desk said:

"Your room is 33. Here's your key."

"Thanks," I said, taking the key with my trembling hand, and dropped it on the floor.

Lena was quicker than me in picking it up.

"I'm washed out", I said.

We moved away from the reception desk.

"So you're going to sleep," said Lena. "I wouldn't mind sleeping too."

I gave her a strange look, and she grinned:

"Oh, only sleeping, only that. I'm worn out."

"Me too."

"Well, if you could offer me hospitality..."

I stayed silent for three long seconds, then I said:

"The bed there is single, but there's a sofa, if I'm not mistaken."

"Then – yes?"

I nodded:

"Let's go."

As we were going away, at the entrance door appeared two men in white coats. They made for the reception, asking loudly for the room 23.

"What's up?" said the clerk.

"There has been an urgent call from here. A man is heavily wounded."

Lena gave me a quick significant look, at least it seemed such to me, but said nothing.

As we went upstairs, I asked as casually as I could:

"How did your assignment go? Have you learned something?"

She nodded:

"Something, yes."

"Do you know what happened to Pavel's son?"

She nodded too indifferently for the gravity of the situation:

"Yes, he told me."

"What do you make of it?"

She paused before answering:

"Frankly, I'm too dead beat to be shocked."

I said:

"And I was close to getting the sum they wanted as a ransom."

She grinned sadly:

"Doesn't mean anything. They can take the ransom and kill the boy."

"So I told Pavel. But he's desperate, his wife attempted suicide, he's close to it too."

She didn't say anything. I went on:

"I know well his son. We often played together, so I take this stuff too personally, perhaps."

She was silent, staring the stairs with her head bent.

"I don't know what else one could do. Didn't you perhaps learn some way...?"

"We spoke of other things."

"Only spoke?"

She didn't answer at once, only cast me a sidelong sad glance, then she said:

"And you, what did you talk about with the women you saw tonight?"

I didn't want to be cruel or vindictive:

"Only about Russian philosophy and literature. They are quite ignorant, I had to explain elementary facts to them."

She chuckled without looking at me.

We came to the door of my new room. I inserted the key, the door opened and I let Lena step into it first.

"There's no sofa", I said looking around.

"Ok, there were times when we didn't mind sleeping in a single bed,' she said. "Unzip me, please."