He made some tea and began to sip it along with the soup. The drink comforted him, not so much because of its flavor, but because its heat reminded him of the warmth he always felt from Natasha’s smile.
He longed to hold her again. Whenever he had a moment of peace, he would remember her kisses, her looks, her caresses. When he saw her, he would plead with her to run away with him. She was all that mattered to him.
When he’d finished his tea and soup, he went over McMillan’s documents. Rereading the list of Soviet engineers who’d traveled to Dearborn, he paused at the name that had initially caught his attention.
Vladimir Mamayev
Vladimir Mamayev was the only engineer he had no record of in his preliminary reports. This would have been purely coincidental if not for the fact that, according to those reports, the rest of the listed technicians were on a training course in Moscow on the dates when the most significant sabotage had taken place.
He served himself some more tea while he mulled it over.
He set aside the names and positioned McMillan’s accounting records alongside those noted down in the court transcripts that he’d been given. When he compared them, he raised his eyebrows in astonishment.
The two reports matched point by point. Sergei’s evidence was solid. However, the numbers corresponding to the account that transferred the fifty thousand American dollars to Wilbur Hewitt’s private account differed by one digit. It was the same entry that McMillan had marked with a dot. Jack searched for the identity of the issuer in the court transcript, but found only the word Confidential in the corresponding box.
He finished his tea. Something did not add up, and maybe it was simpler than it seemed. Fifty thousand dollars . . . Why would a rich man like Wilbur Hewitt risk his position for an amount that would be small change to him?
He went over the records again. It was true that Hewitt had taken money from his account, but it showed credits and debits that corresponded to orders for supplies made from the Avtozavod, which indicated that the account was not a private one, but a company one. And given the high volume of transactions, Hewitt could easily have missed a payment from a third party.
Jack noted down the numbers and the name Vladimir Mamayev, telling himself that perhaps Wilbur Hewitt deserved another chance. And not just for him, but for Elizabeth.
To avoid having to put the fire out again, he hid the reports under a cupboard. Then he wrapped up as warmly as he could. He had to speak to the only person he trusted who had access to OGPU documents, and that was Walter Scott.
Jack buttoned up his overcoat as the icy cold cut through his lungs like a knife. He coughed from the pain. He made sure nobody was watching the house, and set off, equipped with an old umbrella to ward off the blizzard. He checked his watch again. It was six o’clock in the evening. He guessed that, by that time, Walter would have arrived home. He lived in the sotsgorod, a workers’ neighborhood.
He knocked on the door and waited. Sue appeared, giving a start when she recognized him.
“Jack! Long time no see!” She cleared her throat. “Well . . . don’t just stand there; you’ll freeze to death. Come in.”
Jack saw that the apartment consisted of a single room that served as bedroom and living room. Sue rushed to pull across the curtain they had in the middle of the room to hide the unmade bed. She didn’t look well. When he asked for Walter, she replied that he’d be home soon.
“Place looks comfortable,” he lied.
“It’s a bit small, but we’re happy.” She forced a smile while she put up her hair with a bobby pin. “Do you remember when we left New York, thinking that we’d be given a little house with a garden?” She laughed. “Those were the days! Here, sit down.” She offered him a rickety chair. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you any vodka, but with the famine, there’re certain luxuries we can’t afford. They give Walter a bottle a week at work, but he trades it at the market for eggs and a couple of bones for making broth. Do you want tea while you wait? That I can offer.”
Jack accepted. He hadn’t seen Sue since the store’s opening. He hadn’t noticed it then, but in the weak light of the bulb, her face looked haggard and was marked by little wrinkles.
“So how are you?” she asked him. “Walter told me you’re playing the lawyer, defending the capitalist you saved on the ship.”
“Yes. It’s something I agreed to do.” He didn’t want to give any more details. “And you two, how are you?”
“Fine, fine . . . Here. Be careful with the tea; it’s boiling.”
They sat in silence for a while.
“Do you know how long he’ll be?”
“No, not really. He’s very busy right now. With Stalin here, everyone is. But he’ll be home soon. Ah!” They heard a key in the lock. “He’s here.” She got up to greet him. Jack copied her.
Walter opened the door and took off his woolen ushanka, sprinkling the floor with snow. He was still brushing himself off when he noticed Jack. He stopped dead, as if he’d seen a ghost.
“What a surprise! What the hell brings you here?” Walter saw the cup of tea beside Jack and gave Sue a reproachful look. Jack noticed it.
“Don’t worry, I won’t stay long. I don’t want to put you in an awkward position. It’s just that I have information. Strange information . . .”
“I see . . . Sue, could you go see the neighbor, ask if they can spare a potato or two?”
“Walter, you know they don’t have so much as a—”
“Go find a damned potato!” he yelled at her.
Sue rushed to put on her coat and left the apartment. Walter sat opposite Jack, glowering.
“So? What information is this?”
Jack opened the folder and took out the court transcripts they’d given him. He explained what they were and why he had them in his possession.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve been at the sessions, in the audience.”
“Well, in that case you’ll know that McMillan made a list of bank transfers. This one here. And the one giving the figure of fifty thousand dollars is the one they attribute to Wilbur Hewitt.” He pointed at it.
“Yes. At the office today, they were saying that they’d examined the list of transfers, and in addition to verifying that the recipient of the fifty thousand dollars was Wilbur Hewitt, they also found that he’d withdrawn some of the funds.”
“And they hadn’t noticed it before? I say that because any money going into a Soviet bank is monitored so closely that it’s impossible to take it out without the government knowing about it.”
“With most transactions, yes. But Hewitt’s account, to which most of the money went, was held in a German bank. It was opened to pay for contracts and supplies.”
“Wow, Walter, you are well informed!”