“Hmm . . . Looking at it like that, they did do the dirty on you. And what’re you doing here, so far from Ukraine?” He thought that Kuzmin might possess some useful information. He offered him another papirosa to keep him talking. When he accepted it, Jack noticed that the man was missing three fingers from one hand.
“I’m awaiting trial.” He kissed the cigarette and put it in his pocket. “My workmates were tried right away, and sent to a prison in Odessa, but they brought me to Gorky. I’m convinced I’m going to be shot.”
“How long does it take before trials are held?”
“As long as those bastards want. There’re people here who’ve been waiting a year, though usually it takes only three or four months. It depends whether your case is with the People’s Court or the OGPU.” Kuzmin noticed that his mention of the secret police alarmed Jack. “It was them? In that case, not good . . .”
“Not good? What do you mean?”
“I mean you won’t even have a trial. No one has authority over the OGPU. No one! You’ll be lucky to get out of here alive.”
“But you don’t even know what they’re accusing me of.”
“Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t talk to you anymore—OGPU prisoners only bring trouble. If you want some advice, when they interrogate you, do not question their laws or methods. In fact, try to take advantage of them. The OGPU officers are like automatons, following Soviet law to the letter. If you can find a way to make use of their own laws, they won’t touch you until they can consult with Moscow, and in the meantime, you’ll earn a few extra months of life. In the end, they’ll condemn you anyway, but you’re better off spending three months in Gorky plowing fields than breaking rocks in a Siberian gulag. Good luck, and thanks for the cigarettes.”
After Jack spent an hour pacing alone, another guard led him to the infirmary, where a doctor listened to his chest and asked him about his limp. Jack gave the same answers he’d given on arrival. When the doctor was satisfied, he administered some powder to the wound and ordered Jack to wait in an adjoining room. He sat on the only chair in the space until, half an hour later, the door opened and Natasha Lobanova appeared. Seeing her, Jack stood, but she gestured to him to sit down again.
“Natasha, what’re you doing here?”
“Trying not to abandon my patient. How are you?”
“How do you think?” Jack spat at her. “Was it your father?”
“I don’t understand . . .”
“I’m asking you whether it was Sergei who ordered my imprisonment. I don’t know why I’m here, or what I’m accused of, or when they’re going to let me go. A few inmates have told me that if the OGPU detains someone, then he is a condemned man.”
“Honestly, I don’t know the circumstances surrounding your arrest. I never get involved in my father’s business, but I can assure you he’s an honest man, and—”
“He is? Then when you see him, please tell him that, honestly, he has locked up a man whose only crime was to tell the truth.”
“Look, I’m not here to argue with you. I thought you’d appreciate the visit, but if you’d rather I left, I’ll get another doctor to tend to you.”
Jack looked at her. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something about Natasha that he found comforting. He took off his bandage very slowly and sat in silence. She ran her fingers around the rim of the wound, pressing the skin lightly.
“So, you’re here for telling the truth,” Natasha said.
“Like I said, I don’t know why they’ve locked me up. All I know is that the day after assuring your father that he was arresting the wrong workers, I had molten iron raining on me.” He groaned when he tried to move.
“And you think it’s connected?” She paused what she was doing. “I mean . . . you think my father was behind the accident?”
“Who else could it be?”
“I can’t answer that. But I know my father. You’ll have to be patient.” She finished the examination. “If you really are innocent, you’ll walk out of here. I promise.”
Jack couldn’t help but feel annoyed. The only conclusion he could draw from Natasha’s response was that some people didn’t leave this place. The young woman was about to leave when he stood and took her by the wrist. “Natasha, why are you bothering with a foreign criminal?” Her clear face was devoid of malice.
“I guess you don’t look like a criminal. And you say you’re here only because you told the truth, right?” She smiled, allowing Jack to continue holding her hand.
“Listen. I really appreciate your coming, but I need someone to tell me the truth for once. Why did you insist on visiting me?”
Natasha fell silent, looking him in the eye without blinking. “Honestly, Jack, I feel sorry for you.” She freed her hand from his. “Don’t take it the wrong way. What I mean is, it saddens me that you’re here with nobody to turn to. No family to help you.”
Jack felt remorse grip his stomach. Though he’d told her the opposite just a few days earlier, he decided to reveal the truth about his personal situation. Natasha listened in silence. When she learned that Jack had entered the Soviet Union as a married man, she fixed her eyes on the cell tiles. “Heavens! So the reason you live in a house is because you have a wife, after all,” she said without looking up. “And . . . you have children as well?”
“I’m sorry. I haven’t explained myself very well. The reality is that I don’t even have a wife. What I mean is, our marriage was the result of a terrible mix-up. In fact, I’ve filed for a divorce,” he hastened to clarify.
“Sure. Well, we all make mistakes sometimes. Me included,” Natasha replied, and without warning, she said good-bye and left.
That night, Jack barely slept. Though happy to have seen Natasha, he was unsettled by her relationship to the man he held responsible for his imprisonment. Before she left, he had asked her to let his friend Walter know that he was in prison, and she’d agreed to do so. The sound of a distant explosion made him jump. It seemed the disturbances at the factory continued. He wrapped himself in the threadbare blanket and waited for dawn.
The jailer’s roar made Jack give a start. He stopped reading the Izvestia newspaper, and as ordered, stood at attention.
“You have a visitor,” the jailer announced.
Jack headed down the corridor that led to the visitors’ room, imagining that Walter had received his message. But when the bolts on the door were drawn aside, he was surprised to find Sue standing there in a ragged overcoat. After a few seconds in a daze, Jack sat with her on a bench, under the watchful eye of the guard. He asked her how she’d managed to get in to see him. “I’m still your wife, remember?” She showed him the counterfeit marriage certificate.