‘I have already indicated that,’ replied Maturin, his confidence returning.
‘Into what category would you place Balshev?’
‘I thought I had already made that clear, too,’ he said. ‘He is basically an unstable man … I would diagnose him the sort of person who would find it easy to rely on drugs.’
‘An easy way which might have been indicated by a predilection towards excessive drinking?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is it possible to recognize, psychiatrically, someone with homosexual tendencies?’
Maturin frowned, shaking his head. ‘Not merely by psychiatric examination, no. By a combination with physical and medical tests, one can reach certain conclusions.’
‘What sort of physical examination?’
‘Chromosome imbalance, genital size, which might indicate hermaphroditism …’
‘Have such tests been carried out upon Balshev?’
‘Yes.’
‘Having subjected Nikolai Balshev to a number of psychiatric examinations and with the advantage of being able to consider these examinations in conjunction with the medical tests, are you surprised at the man’s sexual tendencies?’
‘It is difficult to say …’
‘What conclusions have you drawn, doctor?’ demanded Josef.
‘No one can be categoric …’
‘Are you surprised at Nikolai Balshev’s homosexuality?’ he pressed.
‘No,’ conceded Maturin, finally.
‘Given that a man has homosexual tendencies, it is possible for him to resist them?’
‘Yes.’
‘Putting Balshev in proximity with another homosexual however, particularly at a time when he was under great stress, was undoubtedly wrong and dangerous?’
Maturin looked surprised at the question which supported Devgeny’s accusation.
‘Yes,’ he agreed quickly, ‘undoubtedly.’
‘Thank you doctor,’ said Josef, sitting down. It was eight o’clock, he noticed. The inquiry had gone on for over three hours. Pamela would be in London by now. She was safe.
Devgeny was standing again, still confident despite the admission Josef had extracted from the doctor.
‘I believe,’ he concluded, ‘that there is unquestionably a case for Josef Bultova to answer before a criminal court. As I have indicated, I have a great deal more evidence available. I consider it unnecessary at this stage. I move that a charge be formulated and that until his trial, Josef Bultova be held in custody.’
Josef looked at Illinivitch. The deputy Minister leant sideways as Devgeny whispered something and both men smiled, finally resolving the doubt in Josef’s mind. He had made the right decision, Josef decided, all those months ago when Illinivitch had come to his apartment within hours of the false challenge to Devgeny. Illinivitch had never worked against the Minister, but always with him, trying to prompt the indiscretions and demanding commitments to incriminate Josef in case the tour was successful. The man had travelled to Washington to co–ordinate every scrap of evidence that Semyonovand Vladimirov could gather, to ensure his destruction,.
Why, he wondered, had Illinivitch exposed himself so completely? The threat – or promise – must have been enormous. He stared at the man, thinking again of that apartment visit and his anxiety to show his prowess with languages, and found another answer. His comments about the apartment hadn’t been contempt, corrected Josef, but envy, the stupid lapses into French and English like a boast, to prove he was as clever as Josef. If Devgeny’s purge were successful, Russia would need another negotiator and Illinivitch saw the role as his. How bad he would be, decided Josef.
‘It is now your opportunity to speak,’ said Svetlova. His voice clearly showed he had already made up his mind, like the rest of the examining committee.
Josef rose, pushing his chair to one side.
‘At the beginning of these proceedings,’ he said, ‘I denied the accusation levelled against me. I repeat that denial. Throughout I behaved with the best interests of Russia foremost in my mind …’
Illinivitch and Devgeny whispered and smiled. They wanted him to know, in the end, of the conspiracy against him, Josef realized.
‘I am not,’ reiterated Josef, ‘guilty of anti-Soviet activity. It is, I submit, an astonishing charge to be levelled against someone who has been to almost every country in the world, representing the Soviet Union.’
He had their attention, he knew. An overwhelming indictment had been prepared against him and he wasn’t frightened. They wanted to know why. Neither Illinivitch nor Devgeny was smiling.
‘I stand before you this evening,’ continued Josef, ‘as a victim of persona! animosity. One man, a member of this committee, has attempted to destroy me, quite disregarding that to do so would be to disgrace the Soviet Union.’
He paused, using the silences to much greater effect than Devgeny. I am better than he is, thought Josef.
‘And so, before continuing,’ he said, ‘I invite the Minister of Culture to withdraw these unfounded accusations.’
And then he sat down.
The effect was remarkable. The committee stared at him, each man with complete incomprehension. So surprised was IIlinivitch that when Devgeny gestured, he missed the command for a whispered conversation.
‘Do you wish to offer no defence?’ demanded the Party Secretary.
Briefly, Josef rose. ‘I have a complete defence,’ he said. ‘And one which I wish to produce before this committee if the accusations against me are not retracted immediately.’
‘Minister?’ invited Svetlova, looking sideways along the table to Devgeny. The Minister stood. He was controlling well his bewilderment, thought Josef. Perhaps he would be experiencing the first flicker of apprehension, Josef hoped.
‘I can only believe that Comrade Bultova is suffering from the strain of this appearance. Or that he isn’t capable of formulating any defence.’
The Party Secretary looked back to Josef. He stood, matching Devgeny’s stare.
‘I demand,’ he said, ‘for the last time, that this accusation be withdrawn.’
Devgeny looked in both directions along the table, humping his shoulders to indicate his astonishment. The Party Secretary caught his gesture and came back irritably to Josef.
‘Do you wish to address this committee or not?’ he demanded, curtly.
Josef looked to the smaller table, where the officials sat. ‘I wish to be fully recorded the number of times I made the request for a withdrawal.’
He bent, placing both briefcases upon the chair, so he would not have to stoop when addressing the committee. From the larger briefcase he began unpacking cassettes, building them into a tiny wall between himself and the committee. One side of each cassette was completely occupied with dates and annotations. Josef arranged them in careful order, then looked up at the committee.
‘Each of you know,’ he began, ‘that fifteen years ago I was released from imprisonment, because the Soviet Union decided there was a need for someone to commence negotiations with other countries of the world which might be embarrassing for more formal, diplomatic contacts …’
‘We are aware of your impressive history,’ interrupted the Party Secretary irascibly.
‘These contacts,’ continued Josef, unperturbed, ‘were with few exceptions largely those of trade or for tentatively establishing relations. I was never before involved in any literary negotiations. It was a point I made most forcibly when I was first told what the assignment was to be …’
He stopped, turning to a folder he had taken from the briefcase at the same time as the cassettes.
‘I would like formally to submit to the committee the letter I wrote when I was first assigned to arranging Balshev’s tour to the West, making the point abundantly clear.’
He handed the letter to one of the officials at the smaller table, who passed it to the Party Secretary. Josef waited while the man read it, then moved it along the table.
‘I am aware,’ w
ent on Josef, ‘that the life-style I have followed since my release from imprisonment has been the subject of some criticism …’
He paused, staring first at Devgeny, then at Illinivitch. Was there the slightest indication of fear yet?
‘One particular criticism,’ he picked up, ‘has been the fact that I have extensively employed the use of scientific aids largely manufactured outside the Soviet Union.’
From the larger of the two briefcases he took one of the tape recorders he had purchased in Japan. He held it before him.
‘Tape recorders, for instance,’ he said. He was looking directly at Illinivitch. The man huddled sideways, to Devgeny. Squirm, you bastards, thought Josef.
‘It has always been my practice from whatever part of the world in which I am working, to send nightly taped reports of the negotiations upon which I am involved. I am tonight going to ask you to listen to a number of tape recordings. I feel sure the allegation will be made that these recordings are fraudulently produced. To those accusations I say two things. Firstly, our own scientists can subject them to electronic tests, voiceprints, which will establish that the voices upon them are those of the people I claim them to be. Secondly, that as I did not know what specific accusations were to be made it would have been impossible for me to prepare them in advance. From the length of the tapes, it can also be determined that I have in no way edited them for my own benefit.’
‘I protest,’ erupted Devgeny, but Josef was expecting the interruption.
‘To what?’ he demanded.
It was a brilliant rebuttal. Devgeny stood there, stranded.
‘There’s no proof of authenticity,’ he floundered.
‘Comrade Bultova has already answered that objection,’ pointed out the Party Secretary. He turned to Josef. ‘You are prepared to subject every one of the tapes you wish us to consider to scientific examination?’
‘I am,’ undertook Josef. ‘They will become the property of this examining committee.’
The Secretary looked back to Devgeny, who sat down. It was important, Josef knew, to block any escape. If he failed in what was to follow, he could never again expect release. What he was to say could, he supposed, be construed as treason and bring a death sentence.
‘With your permission,’ he said, to the Party Secretary, ‘I wish to directly address a member of this examination committee.’
The Secretary frowned, then nodded.
‘Is there anything you wish to say to the committee?’ said Josef to Illinivitch.
Illinivitch flushed. He sat quite still, his hands resting on the table before him. Devgeny was the first to turn and stare at him, saw Josef, followed by the rest. Even the officials sitting in front of the large table screwed round, looking at the man.
‘I would like the committee to note the offer I have just extended to Comrade Illinivitch,’ said Josef.
He picked up the first of the cassettes, holding it up to the committee.
‘This,’ he said, ‘was made by me at the second meeting at the Ministry of Culture, when Comrade Balshev’s tour to the West was discussed. Many of you might regard the habit of tape recording committee sessions as reprehensible. I do it so there can never be a mistake in any instructions I am given. Upon it, you will hear me voice the objections to the assignment that I have already conveyed in writing, both to the committee and to the full Praesidium.’
He fitted the cassette into the machine.
‘You will hear something else,’ he warned. ‘A somewhat surprising exchange between Comrade Devgeny and Comrade IIlinivitch.’
He pressed the ‘on’ button, adjusting the volume. The quality was excellent.
‘An argument in committee,’ defined Josef, when the tape had finished. ‘One member, Comrade Illinivitch, apparently expressing opposition to a Minister, Comrade Devgeny. Nothing, perhaps, particularly remarkable about that. You actually heard Comrade Korshunov stress such disagreements were to be expected. I would now ask you to listen to a second recording.’
Josef fitted it into the machine, but delayed starting it.
‘It was made,’ he said, ‘the evening of that committee disagreement. It is a conversation I had, in the study of my apartment in Moscow, with Comrade Illinivitch. The visit was to involve me in political moves to replace Comrade Devgeny as Minister of Culture. Had I agreed, I would have been guilty of exactly the charges that have been made against me here this evening. You will hear my rejection of that approach.’
As the recording progressed, Devgeny turned and stared at Illinivitch. It was a clever move, appreciated Josef, the sort a man would make on hearing a plot outlined against him. It would be hard for Illinivitch later to try to argue that he acted on instruction from Devgeny. Illinivitch had been abandoned and he knew it.
He let the tape run on, through the assertion of Praesidium backing, then stopped it again. ‘I would like the committee to listen most carefully to what follows,’ said Josef. ‘It was my reaction to this approach. It was made many months ago, as I have made clear. But it stands tonight as my reply to the accusation of anti-Soviet activity.’
He started the machine and again his voice filled the room, telling Illinivitch of his arrest, trial, the burial of his father in Potma and defection approaches from countries in the West and concluding, ‘… despite what has happened, I remain a good Russian. I won’t do anything to damage my country.’
Josef ended the recording and gestured a clerk to take another document.
‘This is a sworn statement from the concierge of my apartment block, whom I ensured that night witnessed Comrade IIlinivitch’s departure. Her evidence is independent corroboration of his visit.’
Illinivitch was looking fixedly at the table.
‘There was another committee meeting,’ Josef continued. ‘After the announcement that the Nobel Foundation had awarded the prize to Balshev. Afterwards, Comrade Illinivitch walked with me from the room, again insisting I attempt something during the tour which would disgrace Comrade Devgeny.’
Josef slotted into place the recording he had made as he and the deputy chairman had walked towards his car, the briefcase containing the tape between them. The committee listened in complete silence. He stopped, staring across at them. An hour ago, he thought, and they had already convicted. He wondered if Devgeny, confident of success, had already demanded the papers of accusation from the Ministry of Justice.
‘A great deal has been made of my having supplied pills,’ said Josef. ‘I would like the committee to consider this.’ He played the tape of his argument with the author in the hotel bedroom, when he discovered that the man had stolen drugs from the briefcase.
‘You will discern from that,’ said Josef, when he stopped the tape, ‘the state of mind in which Balshev was prior to the Nobel ceremony. You may feel, as I did, that the need for pills was justified. But I submit that this tape recording makes it quite clear that I did not introduce the man to dangerous amphetamine or barbiturate drugs. On only one occasion, judging it necessary, I gave him tranquillizers. From then on he took them, unknown initially to me, from my briefcase. You have not an hour ago heard Dr Maturin identify Balshev as the sort of man who, knowing such drugs were available, would rush to take them.’
Josef coughed. His throat was becoming sore, as Devgeny’s had.
‘Stress has also been put upon my allowing Endelman to make the tour with us. That was not my decision. It was that of Comrade Illinivitch.’
Another tape went on to the machine, the recording beginning with static and the international operator securing the number, which was clearly identified on the call. It was that which IIlinivitch had given him on departure from Moscow.
‘Has there been any decision on my overnight query regarding Endelman?’ Josef’s voice could be heard to ask, after the customary greetings.
‘Let him accompany you,’ Illinivitch’s voice said.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘Have you had t
he man checked out?’
‘Thoroughly, to my satisfaction.’
‘What about the satisfaction of the Ministry?’
‘It’s the same thing,’
‘Josef stopped the recording. That investigation,’ he said, ‘was carried out by a man who has been brought back to this country to give evidence against me, Comrade Semyonov.’
He produced the letter he had taken from Blyne on the day he left Washington.
‘This letter was sent to Endelman in response to the American publisher’s request to have the photographer accompany us. The signature is difficult to decipher, but it purports to be from the Ministry of Culture. I have no doubt that the same scientific examination to which these tapes will be submitted will show the typewriter to be that to which Comrade Illinivitch has access. I feel the handwriting will be shown to be his, as well.’
Josef fitted a further tape into the machine.
‘This,’ he explained, ‘is a conversation with Endelman. In it you will hear him say he had two or three meetings with Semyonov and that both his homosexuality and drug addiction were not difficult to discover. I contend that it was known, but kept secret by men well aware of the risk of disgrace that would hopefully arise by putting Endelman in close contact with the author.; I am not suggesting, of course, that they were aware then of Balshev’s homosexual tendencies. It was, I consider, a calculated decision that someone they knew to be a heroin addict and a sexual deviant could create trouble. Merely for the man to be arrested in our company would have been sufficient.’
Illinivitch was glancing around as if seeking escape.
‘I would like here to mention the drug party in New York. I was negotiating the film sale of the book, as instructed by the Ministry of Culture. I got Balshev from that party admittedly only minutes before a scandal. I was accompanied by the American publisher and his assistant. Everyone else was a homosexual or a transvestite. Yet a complete description of that party has been given to this committee. How? I submit because Ambassador Semyonov, whom I have proved connived at the introduction of Endelman on to the tour, had someone at that party, an agent provocateur, trying to enmesh Balshev in just the sort of situation from which I removed him.’
Face Me When You Walk Away Page 25