With the excuse of delivering a part for the Buick, Jack showed up at Viktor Smirnov’s dacha. He knew that Elizabeth was hiding away at Viktor’s house, and he wanted to tell her about Sergei’s plot against her uncle, thus enabling Wilbur Hewitt to evade the OGPU’s surveillance of him. When Jack got out of his car outside the ostentatious house, he prayed that his plan would work.
Viktor, wearing a freshly starched brown uniform, cheered Jack’s visit, but paid more attention to the gleaming distributor for his Buick than to the limping American struggling to climb the steps leading up to his house. As ever, he offered him a glass of vodka while he asked about the repair. Jack, settled into an Empire-style chair, went into detail about the difficulties he’d encountered so that Smirnov would have to refill their glasses. He had to keep Viktor talking for long enough to give Elizabeth the opportunity to appear, so he changed the subject to the Russian’s love of guns. However, Viktor seemed to want to talk solely about cars. Only after a fifth drink did the Soviet sit on the sofa and rest his feet on a side table. Then he forgot about the cars and sat looking at Jack with a blank gaze, as if his brain had suddenly shut down. Jack supposed it was the effect of the alcohol and the suffocating heat coming from the stove in the center of the room. It was clear that Viktor could end the conversation at any moment, so Jack quickly praised his excellent taste, gesturing at the brightly colored arras that hung from the walls.
“They’re becoming increasingly difficult to find,” said Viktor, his vanity perking him up. “The bourgeoisie lost everything. Everything, except their devilish ability to hide their wealth!” He roared with laughter.
“I bet,” said Jack, humoring him. “And on the subject of bourgeoisie, I hear a true bourgeois gem has moved into your house . . .” He gave Viktor a conspiratorial wink, praying that the alcohol had dulled his senses sufficiently.
“So you heard about it . . . Her uncle sent her here for protection.” He laughed. “Can you believe it? The farmer sending his best hen into the fox’s den! She is beautiful, but cold as an iceberg. If the truth be told, I wouldn’t trade the real gem in this house for that girl.” He gestured proudly at the splendid German-made stove in the middle of the room.
“The man’s becoming delirious in his old age. All he wants to do is work instead of enjoying life.” Jack laughed, and he served Viktor another glass of vodka that he downed before it was filled. “Did you know? Tomorrow he’s celebrating forty years with the company.”
“That long? Heavens! If I’d known, I’d have told Elizabeth to buy him a gift. Or send him to a madhouse.” He laughed.
“Well, from what I hear, Hewitt isn’t well disposed to receiving recognition.” He laughed along with Viktor. “Which is why some of the guys in the American village are planning a party in his honor. I thought maybe Elizabeth could help us surprise him.”
“That seems like an excellent idea! She’s resting right now, but I’ll let her know when she surfaces.”
Jack felt his heart thump. If Viktor spoke to Elizabeth without him there, he’d find out that it was all a farce. “Honestly, I don’t know what the guys might do to me if I go back empty-handed. They’re excited about the celebration, and if we put off the preparations, everything could fall apart.”
“All right. If you insist. I’ll get the help to call her down.”
Jack let out a sigh of relief. The first part of the plan had worked, but he needed to speak to the young woman before Viktor discovered that Hewitt’s anniversary was a fabrication.
When Elizabeth came down the stairs, Jack found her as breathtakingly beautiful as the day he saw her buying caviar at the salt-fish market. She was wearing a burgundy dressing gown that hugged her hips and danced over her knees as she descended. Jack couldn’t help remembering the night he’d enjoyed her body. Before Viktor could greet her, Jack approached her as quickly as his hip would allow. “If you want your uncle Wilbur to live, play along,” he whispered into her ear.
Elizabeth winced. Viktor, seeing her response, lifted his feet from the side table and approached the two of them. “Is Elizabeth so attractive, she cured your limp?” he joked, switching to English, and he snatched the young woman from Jack’s side, holding her around the waist. He led her to the sofa and sat her down beside him. “You hadn’t said anything about your uncle’s anniversary.”
Elizabeth looked at Jack, trying to find an answer in his eyes. “I forgot,” she managed to say in a thin voice.
“When it comes to gifts, women only remember their own celebrations!” Jack cut in, smiling in spite of the pain in his hip. “How could you forget that it’s your uncle’s fortieth anniversary as a Ford executive?”
“Oh! I didn’t mean I’d forgotten. I meant I forgot to tell Viktor,” Elizabeth replied with such convincing confidence that for a moment even Jack believed her.
“It seems Jack and some guys in the American village want to organize a surprise party, and they want you to help them with who knows what,” Viktor explained to Elizabeth. “By the way, if you want music, I could lend you my old phonograph.” He pointed at a contraption the size of a sewing machine, a flaring horn protruding from it. “It sounds like a litter of starving cats, but it would liven up the party.”
Jack thanked him for the offer. The device was an American Edison model, similar to one he’d owned in Detroit. It had a crank that, by compressing a spring, turned a wax cylinder with grooves inside that reproduced the music. The sound, captured through a needle, was crudely amplified by the horn.
He checked its condition. He’d repaired a number of similar phonographs at the Dearborn Dance Society, so if he needed to, he could probably mend Viktor’s device. The problem was that he hadn’t planned to hold a party at all, but with Viktor insisting, and so that his ruse wouldn’t be discovered, he accepted the offer good-naturedly.
The opportunity to be alone with Elizabeth presented itself when Viktor announced that he was going upstairs to find some old cylinders. As soon as he was gone, Jack quickly whispered Sergei’s plans for her uncle Wilbur. The young woman listened openmouthed to his every word.
“I swear it’s true. Sergei wants to lock up your uncle, and he’s hired me to find the evidence to justify it. I can’t speak to him, so you have to warn him as soon as possible.”
“And what’re we going to do? This is awful, Jack.”
“I don’t know yet. Tell your uncle to gather as much money as he can without arousing suspicion, and to carry on as normal, as if nothing were happening, until I can speak to him. I’ll contact some friends to see if they can get us passports.”