Filipov became petulant. ‘What is to be gained by allowing this foolishness in Prague?’
‘If we invade Czechoslovakia, there will be a diplomatic freeze – you know that.’
‘So what?’
‘It will damage our relations with the West. We’re trying to reduce tension with the United States, so that we can spend less on our military. That whole effort could be sabotaged. An invasion might even help Richard Nixon get elected President – and he could increase American defence spending. Think what that could cost us!’
Filipov tried to interrupt, but Dimka overrode him. ‘The invasion will also shock the Third World. We’re trying to strengthen our ties with non-aligned countries in the face of rivalry from China, which wants to replace us as leader of global Communism. That’s why we’re organizing a World Communist Conference in November. That conference could become a humiliating failure if we invade Czechoslovakia.’
Filipov sneered: ‘So you would simply let Dubek do what he likes?’
‘On the contrary.’ Dimka now revealed the proposal favoured by his boss. ‘Kosygin will go to Prague and negotiate a compromise – a non-military solution.’
Filipov in his turn put his cards on the table. ‘The Defence Ministry will support that plan in the Politburo – on condition that we immediately begin preparations for an invasion in case the negotiation should fail.’
‘Agreed,’ said Dimka, who felt sure the military would make such preparations anyway.
The decision made, they went in opposite directions. Dimka returned to his office just as his secretary, Vera Pletner, was picking up the phone. He saw her face turn the colour of the paper in her typewriter. ‘Has something happened?’ he said.
She gave him the receiver. ‘Your ex-wife,’ she said.
Suppressing a groan, Dimka took the instrument and spoke into it. ‘What is it, Nina?’
‘Come at once!’ she screamed. ‘Grisha’s gone!’
Dimka’s heart seemed to stop. Grigor, whom they called Grisha, was not quite five years old, and had not yet started school. ‘What do you mean, gone?’
‘I can’t find him, he’s disappeared, I’ve looked everywhere!’
There was a pain in Dimka’s chest. He struggled to remain calm. ‘When and where did you last see him?’
‘He went upstairs to see your mother. I let him go on his own – I always do, it’s only three floors in the lift.’
‘When was that?’
‘Less than an hour ago – you have to come!’
‘I’m coming. Phone the police.’
‘Come quickly!’
‘Phone the police, okay?’
‘Okay.’
Dimka dropped the phone and left the room. He raced out of the building. He had not paused to put on his coat, but he hardly noticed the cold Moscow air. He jumped into his Moskvitch, shoved the steering-column gearshift into first, and tore out of the compound. Even with his foot flat to the floor, the little car did not go fast.
Nina still had the apartment they had lived in together at Government House, less than a mile from the Kremlin. Dimka double-parked and ran in.
There was a KGB doorman in the lobby. ‘Good afternoon, Dmitriy Ilich,’ the man said politely.
‘Have you seen Grisha, my little boy?’ said Dimka.
‘Not today.’
‘He’s disappeared – could he have gone out?’
‘Not since I came back from my lunch break at one.’
‘Have any strangers entered the building today?’
‘Several, as always. I have a list—’
‘I’ll look at it later. If you see Grisha, call the apartment immediately.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘The police will be here any minute.’
‘I’ll send them right up.’
Dimka waited for the elevator. He was slick with perspiration. He was so jumpy he pressed the wrong button and had to wait while the lift stopped at an intermediate floor. When he reached Nina’s floor she was in the corridor with Dimka’s mother, Anya.
Anya was wiping her hands compulsively on her flower-print apron. She said: ‘He never reached my apartment. I don’t understand what happened!’
‘Could he have got lost?’ said Dimka.
Nina said: ‘He’s gone there twenty times before – he knows the way – but yes, he could have got distracted by something and gone to the wrong place, he’s five years old.’
‘The doorman is sure he hasn’t left the building. So we just have to search. We’ll knock at every apartment door. No, wait, most of the residents have telephones. I’ll go down and use the doorman’s phone to call them.’
Anya said: ‘He might not be in an apartment.’
‘You two search every corridor and staircase and cleaning closet.’
‘All right,’ said Anya. ‘We’ll take the elevator to the top floor and work down.’
They got in the lift and Dimka ran down the stairs. In the lobby he told the doorman what was happening and began to phone apartments. He was not sure how many there were in the building: maybe a hundred? ‘A little boy is lost, have you seen him?’ he said each time his call was answered. As soon as he heard ‘No’, he hung up and dialled the next apartment. He made a note of the apartments where there was no answer or no phone.
He had done four floors without a glimmer of hope when the police arrived, a fat sergeant and a young constable. They were maddeningly calm. ‘We’ll take a look around,’ the sergeant said. ‘We know this building.’
‘It’ll need more than two of you to search properly!’ Dimka said.
‘We’ll send for reinforcements if necessary, sir,’ the sergeant said.
Dimka did not want to spend time arguing with them. He went back to phoning, but he was beginning to think that Nina and Anya had the best chance of finding Grisha. If the boy had wandered into the wrong apartment, surely the occupier would have phoned the doorman by now. Grisha might be going up and down staircases, lost. Dimka wanted to weep when he thought of how scared the little boy would be.
After he had been phoning for another ten minutes, the two policemen came up the stairs from the basement with Grisha walking between them, holding the sergeant’s hand.
Dimka dropped the phone and ran to him.
Grisha said: ‘I couldn’t open the door, and I cried!’
Dimka picked him up and hugged him, striving not to weep with relief.
After a minute he said: ‘What happened, Grisha?’
‘The policemen found me,’ he said.
Anya and Nina appeared from the stairwell and came running, ecstatic with relief. Nina snatched Grisha from Dimka and crushed the boy to her bosom.
Dimka turned to the sergeant. ‘Where did you find him?’
The man looked pleased with himself. ‘Down in the cellar, in a storeroom. The door wasn’t locked, but he couldn’t reach the handle. He’s had a scare, but otherwise he seems to have come to no harm.’
Dimka addressed the boy. ‘Tell me, Grisha, why did you go down to the basement?’
‘The man said there was a puppy – but I couldn’t find the puppy!’
‘The man?’
‘Yes.’
‘Someone you know?’
Grisha shook his head.
The sergeant put his cap on to leave. ‘All’s well that ends well, then.’
‘Just a minute,’ Dimka said. ‘You heard the boy. A man lured him down there with talk of a puppy.’
‘Yes, sir, he told me that. But no crime seems to have been committed, as far as I can see.’
‘The child was abducted!’
‘Difficult to know exactly what happened, especially when the information comes from one so young.’
‘It’s not difficult at all. A man inveigled the child down to the cellar then abandoned him there.’
‘But what would be the point of that?’
‘Look, I’m grateful to you for finding him, but don’t you think you’re taking the whole thing rather lightly?’
‘Children do go astray every day.’
Dimka began to be suspicious. ‘How did you know where to look?’
‘A lucky guess. As I say, we’re familiar with this building.’
Dimka decided not to voice his suspicions while he was still in a state of high emotion. He turned away from the officer and spoke to Grisha again. ‘Did the man tell you his name?’
‘Yes,’ said Grisha. ‘His name is Nik.’