“I guess so.”
“Right. If it was a gasket, in reducing its diameter, the explosion from the cylinders would burn the projecting rim and totally destroy the part. However . . .”
“Yes?”
“If I change the order of operations and press the gasket before making the perforations, the part won’t go out of shape however hard I stamp it, because it will already be fully compressed.”
“Very clever, but you’re boring me to death! Will it work or not?”
“Yes, if I do it carefully. This press has a micrometer gauge that will allow me to measure any deformation, but it’s a delicate task that will take time to do right.”
“Then don’t let me keep you. We have two hours until the next shift.”
Jack got to work. After Viktor had watched the procedure for an hour, his interest began to wane. “This is torture!” said the Soviet.
With greasy hands and a sweat-covered brow, Jack looked at Viktor. “Well, the most boring part’s still to come. Out back there’s a heated room where you can help yourself to some tea. I’ll let you know if I need you.”
Viktor didn’t think twice. He nodded and, yawning, went off to seek refuge in the staff room. As soon as he’d left, Jack took a finished gasket from his kit bag and switched it for the one he was making. Then he took the micrometer and a notebook, and disappeared among the mass of automobiles that filled the plant.
He was inspecting one of the bearing assembly machines that had been sabotaged, when a guard appeared and aimed a rifle at him. “What are you doing in this sector?” he demanded, his finger on the trigger.
“I have authorization from Viktor Smirnov. I’m—”
“American? Step back. Move away from that machine and empty your bag.”
Jack spread its contents on the floor. With his foot, the guard separated the tools and the unusable gasket. “Like I say, I have authorization. You can ask—”
“Lower your weapon! What’s the meaning of this?” Viktor broke in. Seeing that Jack was no longer at the press, he had set out to search for him.
“This man claims he has your authorization, sir.” He stood to attention when he recognized the official.
“That’s right. Though he should have stayed at the other end of the corridor.”
“I’m sorry. I had to test the gasket with the gauge on this machine, and I didn’t want to bother you,” Jack explained, seeing a hint of suspicion in Viktor’s eyes. “But it doesn’t matter anymore, because this clown just wrecked it.”
As Jack had guessed he would, when he heard about the part being damaged, Viktor flew into a rage. “What’s your name, you bumbling fool?” he yelled, gripping the guard by his jacket.
“Relax,” Jack interrupted. “I took the precaution of making a spare gasket.”
Viktor sighed with relief. What the Soviet official didn’t know was that Jack at last had the evidence he needed to prove his theory.
Jack had given himself a week to organize the evidence before presenting it to Wilbur Hewitt. But he never had the chance. A few hours after his clandestine visit, a black vehicle pulled up in front of Jack’s home, and two uniformed men dragged him inside the vehicle before heading at full speed to an office at the OGPU headquarters.
He spent an hour in total bewilderment before the door to the room they’d locked him in opened with a squeak, revealing Sergei Loban. Recognizing him, Jack gave a start and stood up. He didn’t know that Sergei had returned from Moscow. Nobody had explained to him why he’d been arrested, but one didn’t have to be a genius to work out that it was something to do with his nocturnal investigations. Sergei’s deep voice confirmed it. The OGPU chief sat in one of the chairs and fixed his eyes on Jack’s, which glimmered in the dim light from the single bulb in the room.
“You can sit down,” said Sergei. Jack obeyed. “Let’s see. I’ve just got back, and you Americans welcome me with problems. According to this report, last night, in my absence and going against my orders, you entered the factory in the early hours and used a bearing assembly machine. Correct?”
Jack had already prepared his defense. “Yes. But I didn’t violate any orders. I went there with Viktor Smirnov’s authorization for the sole purpose of fabricating a gasket for his Buick. You can ask him, if you want.”
“I already have, and he confirms that point. But he says that you went to the bearing machine in his absence, when he had only authorized you to work on the gasket.”
“I wanted to check that the part was—”
“Let’s cut the bullshit! You might be able to fool a fairy like Smirnov, but I’m an engineer and I know that to make a copper gasket, a bearing assembly machine is about as useful as a napkin on a pig.”
Jack swallowed. He cursed himself for believing Hewitt when he’d told him that Sergei was nothing more than a bureaucrat. He tried to think on his feet. “I never said I wanted to use that machine to manufacture the gasket. I needed to use the gauge to confirm the accuracy of my micrometer. I’m sure your report will show that I had a defective one in my bag, that is, if the guard who pointed his rifle at me even knew what it was.”
“Of course he knew.” Sergei checked his notes and gnashed his teeth. “And in fact, he mentions it. But it seems too much of a coincidence that you happened to be handling the same gauge involved in some of the worst sabotage in the Avtozavod . . . unless you were doing it on purpose.”
“Like you say, it was a coincidence.”
“You’ll see, then, why I don’t believe you.”
“Frankly, I don’t believe you, either.”
“Ha! You Americans are so full of yourselves. Even when you’re one wrong word away from being sent to Siberia.”
“Now that you mention it, I’d like to ask you about them. About the Americans who’ve disappeared without a trace,” Jack challenged him.
“That’s where you’re wrong. The detainees have left behind a stench of betrayal so strong that you could follow it all the way to the prison where they’re going to pay for their crimes.”
“What crimes? Being American?”
“No, Jack. Most of your compatriots whom we’ve taken have been charged with counterrevolutionary activities that have nothing to do with this investigation.”
“What activities? Protesting against taxes they hadn’t been told about? Asking for food for their children? Wanting to return to their country?”