Fear of Mirrors

by Tariq Ali

  ‘How can you say that? He was never sweet and inoffensive, I grant you that, but to wallow in Kedrov’s glory. It makes me sick. If Ludwik ever came back they would kill him, wouldn’t they, Freddy?’

  Freddy nodded. ‘By the way, Slutsky will be joining us for lunch.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘You should.’

  Lisa was so shocked by the casual tone that she sulked for the rest of the journey. Freddy sighed as he parked the car near the Writer’s Club. He took her by the arm and whispered.

  ‘You don’t live here. You can’t understand what it’s like any more.’

  They were shown a small, private room, where a table with three chairs had been prepared for their lunch. On it were placed a host of delicacies, which included caviar, smoked fish of several varieties, cold meats, salad and a bottle of vodka. Before Lisa could comment on this unusual arrangement, Slutsky entered the room. He went straight to her and kissed her on both cheeks.

  ‘Let me guess. You were confiding to Freddy how I had changed. Where once I was a filthy skunk, now I had become a sewer rat. Yes?’

  Lisa smiled despite herself.

  ‘You see, my dear,’ Slutsky continued, ‘there are still a few intelligent people left in Soviet intelligence. Despite ten years of good conduct, I have still not been able to win the confidence of Comrade Stalin. Only last week in Leningrad, three dozen young Communists were executed for asking too many questions. Every time they asked a perfectly normal question – normal, that is, for a Communist – they were denounced as Trotskyite saboteurs. So just before they were shot they shouted, “Long Live Trotsky.” These were kids, who had probably only heard of Trotsky from their parents. Vodka?’

  Lisa was amazed. Freddy tried hard to conceal a smile as he noticed her astonishment. He turned to Slutsky.

  ‘Our friend was disgusted by your performance in front of Kedrov.’

  ‘Good, good! I agree with her. It was a good performance.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Lisa, slowly realizing that the earlier scene she had participated in was a charade, ‘we should have booked a table at the Actor’s Club.’

  The two men laughed. They can still laugh, she thought, even while they are living through unimaginable horrors every day. Aloud she asked: ‘And Kedrov? Was he part of the act?’

  Slutsky’s face changed. ‘That young man is a true believer. Stalin sees Kedrov often these days. He likes to hear of how his old enemies behave during interrogation and just before they are executed. So Kedrov now believes in the divine right of interrogators. He really believes that he will end up a member of the Politburo.’

  ‘He might. After all, there are others like him…’

  ‘My dear Lisa, Kedrov knows too much. Most of the oppositionists didn’t confess to anything. Instead they denounced Stalin and the apparatus. They detailed his crimes. Kedrov has heard everything. His turn will come soon. And he will be shot. The fact that he hasn’t realized this himself indicates the limits of his intelligence.’

  ‘Do you really want Ludwik to return?’

  ‘Are you mad? Tell him to stay outside as long as he can. If possible, forever. Within a year the Kedrovs will be in charge of everything. Ludwik is a legend in the Department and old legends have to be destroyed so that new time-servers can build themselves. How is he?’

  ‘Well.’

  ‘I don’t mean his health, Lisa. His brain. What is he thinking?’

  Lisa looked at Freddy for guidance as to whether or not it was safe to reply to Slutsky’s question. Freddy nodded.

  ‘He’s very depressed. The trials have shaken us to the very core. Ludwik says that we should never have banned the Mensheviks. He traces the decline to that decision, but I’m not so sure. The only thing that keeps him going is Spain. If the fascists are defeated, he imagines it might start off a chain reaction in Italy and even Germany. If that happens, Ludwik argues, then Stalin, who’s a monster born out of the defeats in Europe and the depoliticization of Soviet workers, will fall as well.’

  ‘It must be nice for him, eh, Freddy?’ said Slutsky with a sad smile. ‘Ludwik is still able to dream. All I see is even worse nightmares. I hope he’s right and I’m wrong, but I fear the opposite. Has Freddy told you of how we got Smirnov and Mrachovsky to confess?’

  Lisa stared at them in horror. ‘It was you?’

  Both men nodded.

  ‘Ludwik was convinced that neither Mrachovsky nor Smirnov could ever be broken. For some reason he was very sure. He wept when he read of their confessions. And it was you?’

  Freddy looked away. Slutsky told her the story.

  ‘He wept, Lisa? He wept? What do you think it did to us? When I began the interrogation, I had a full head of hair. Look at me now. I questioned him for ninety hours.

  ‘He had walked in limping – a civil war wound. I served under him, but he’d forgotten. “Comrade Mrachovsky, I have been ordered to question you.”

  ‘“Have you, you sonofabitch?” was his first reply. Then, looking at me with pure contempt, he just carried on. “I will not speak to men like you. Scum of the lowest order. You’re worse than the Okhrana. The Tsar’s men were better than you. How dare you question me? Two Orders of the Red Banner, eh? Did you steal them? You call me comrade. The man before you called me a reptile and counterrevolutionary. Me! I was born in a Tsarist prison. My parents died in exile in Siberia. I became a Bolshevik at the age of fifteen. Do you want to see my decorations?”

  ‘At this point, Lisa, he rose and bared his chest. It was criss-crossed with scars of every shape and size. I was on the verge of tears. “Comrade Mrachovsky, I fought under your command on the Tashkent front. That’s how I earned the Order of the Red Banner.” I had to send for my biography from the archives before he was convinced. He stared at me. “So you were once a Communist and a revolutionary. How have you degenerated into a police hound? Let me tell you something, Slutsky. They took me twice to see Stalin. On both occasions he tried to bribe me. I spat in his face. I reminded him of what Trotsky had called him to his face: Gravedigger of the revolution. That’s when you were called in, Slutsky. So finish your job. I am not going to confess.’

  ‘I talked and I talked, Lisa, reminding him of the revolution, the civil war, the fact that we were surrounded by a hostile world, Hitler’s rise to power. I told him that the question was no longer Stalin, but how long the Soviet Union could survive. We both began to weep. Then he said, “If my confession would strengthen the Soviet Union, I would consider it seriously.” I felt like saying “Don’t, don’t,” but everything was being recorded. Later that day he met Smirnov, who talked him out of it, but we carried on. When Smirnov realized Mrachovsky had confessed, he broke down.’

  ‘Though at the trial,’ Freddy spoke for the first time, ‘Smirnov tried on several occasions to retract his confession. Each time he was stopped by the prosecutors.’

  Lisa looked at both men. Their eyes had filled with tears.

  ‘Tell Ludwik to stay away, Lisa,’ said Slutsky, ‘and warn him that a new man is being sent to the Embassy. A friend of Kedrov, by the name of Speigelglass. His job is to spy on Ludwik.’

  Lisa had never liked Slutsky, not even in the old days, but now, as he rose, she hugged him.

  ‘Goodbye, Lisa. Remember me to Ludwik. I doubt whether we’ll ever see each other again.’

  After Slutsky had left there was a tense silence. Lisa still could not believe that Freddy, one of the five Ls of Pidvocholesk, a childhood friend of her Ludwik, was the man who had broken Smirnov. She looked at him. To avoid her gaze, Freddy lit a cigarette and then shamefacedly offered her one. Lisa declined.

  ‘Take me to Minna’s apartment, Freddy.’

  She did not speak to him in the car, but as they neared the Embankment, Lisa screamed at him.

  ‘Stop the car, Freddy. Now!’

  Freddy braked and looked at her.

  ‘Isn’t that Krupskaya, walking towards the Kremlin? Can’t I just run after he
r and exchange greetings? She knows Ludwik and –’

  Felix paled. ‘Yes, it is Lenin’s widow. But look now. She’s being followed. She’s never alone. He hates her. And if I were to let you run up and kiss her, you would never leave Moscow. Anyway she’s a stupid bitch.’

  ‘Freddy!’ Lisa had begun to tremble with anger. ‘How dare you speak of her like that! She suffered even when Lenin was alive. And now…’

  ‘Listen. She was the only person who could have denounced the trials and been heard at home and abroad. Of course he would have had her poisoned and our doctors would have diagnosed a stroke or heart failure or whatever, but at least she might have had an impact. Instead, she did her pleading in private.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘One day last year, Slutsky and I were both called in to Stalin’s office. This was not unusual. Zinoviev and Kamenev were on trial for terrorism, espionage and all the usual shit. He wanted to know what they were saying about him. Therefore we did not regard the request as unusual.

  ‘When we went in, he told us to sit in the corner. “I want you two veterans of the civil war to observe in silence. You will learn a great deal.” After five minutes, Krupskaya was shown in. He stood up and received her courteously. She fell on her knees. “Josef Vissarionovich,” she said in a broken voice, “Zinoviev and Kamenev were Lenin’s oldest comrades. I beg of you. Spare their lives.” She spoke of the two men, their strengths and weaknesses, their contribution to the Party. He heard her in silence.

  ‘When she had finished he helped her to stand up. “Comrade Krupskaya, I am not the Tsar. Please do not petition me in this fashion. It disturbs me.” He then denounced the two old Bolsheviks as traitors and reminded her of what Lenin had said about them on the eve of the Revolution. “It was Vladimir Ilyich who then demanded their expulsion from the Party.” After several exchanges, Stalin convinced her that he would spare their lives, if she, Krupskaya, denounced them in public. And she did. And they were executed. And she should have known better. And that’s why I called her a stupid bitch. I’m sorry for that. She, too, is a victim, and it must be very painful for her. She must be constantly thinking what it was meant to be and what it has become. And she knows that in the months before he died, Lenin realized what was taking place.’

  ‘It’s all over now, isn’t it, Freddy? He has destroyed the revolution.’

  They had arrived at Minna’s apartment. Freddy bade her farewell. ‘Don’t forget, Larin is taking you and Felix home for dinner tonight. His room is safe, but best to be careful. I won’t come up now. Tell Adam I’m waiting for him.’

  Minna burst out laughing as she let Lisa into her flat. She laughed again on seeing the bewildered look on Lisa’s face.

  ‘Pure relief, my dear,’ she said by way of explanation, while both of them were still outside the front door. ‘You’re back. And in Moscow that’s wonderful. The boys have been playing happily. Come in.’

  The two women exchanged smiles and retired to the tiny kitchen. Neither of them could be sure whether or not microphones had been hidden in the rooms. Both were careful and so they ensured that their conversation did not move in dangerous directions.

  ‘Hans and I are happy here. We would not have survived in Germany. When Michael was arrested, we thought it would only be for a few weeks, then friends said it might be a few months and then one day we were told that Michael had been shot while trying to escape.’

  ‘And Hans. How did he…?’

  ‘It was three years ago. He understood what had happened. He was nine then, but he felt he had to look after me. At night in his bed I used to hear him cry and call his father’s name, but never in front of me. Michael and he were very close. His last set of poems was written for Hans and read out to him at bedtime. He still keeps them under his pillow.’

  Lisa took out a pen from her handbag and scribbled a note on a piece of paper and put it in front of Minna: This city is not safe for you. Ludwik is sure that Stalin is negotiating secretly with the Nazis. We have met some of the agents who have taken messages to Germany. I don’t want to frighten you, but this place is dangerous.

  Lisa knew she had taken a risk, but she did not want Hans to suffer any more. Minna read the note with a sad smile and a grateful nod and set the paper alight. She took Lisa’s hand and held it tight. Then she whispered softly in her ear.

  ‘Thanks. Some German exiles here suspect something big is about to happen. A whole group of German Communists have already been arrested as enemies of the people. Kippenberger and Hirsch were actually tortured. I have to pretend all is well. I don’t want Hans to worry. He was so happy last November, seeing all the tanks and soldiers marching past Stalin on the anniversary. He saw them as our protectors against the Nazis.’

  The two women looked at each other in silence. Then Lisa spoke in a loud and carefree voice. ‘It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we take the boys for a walk by the river?’

  The boys had returned and started a new game. They were not keen to be taken outdoors, but a combined effort by the mothers finally succeeded. The apartment was abandoned.

  The day was beginning to decline towards sunset. They walked in the golden brown shadows of late afternoon. Hans and Felix had dropped all pretence of being grown-ups. They would throw twigs in the river and then race ahead to see which stick was winning.

  ‘If I could leave this place I would do so tomorrow,’ Minna confided to Lisa. ‘I have cousins in Baltimore, but if I even tried to correspond with them in this atmosphere, I might be arrested.’

  ‘I could write to them on your behalf.’

  ‘I’m not sure. They might want to help, but even though Michael is dead, he was a Communist. Would the Americans let me in?’

  ‘I think they might. I’ll happily try if you want me to.’

  ‘Too risky. If the attempt fails, I’ll end up in Siberia and Hans in an orphanage.’

  The two women talked till the sun had set. It was time to part. Hans and Felix shook hands warmly. Lisa and Minna hugged each other. Lisa was now sure that none of them could ever return while Stalin was in power.

  Later that night in Larin’s room, she questioned him about his wife and child, whom she had never met. ‘Where are they, Larin?’

  ‘With my mother-in-law in the country.’

  ‘Tell me about them.’

  ‘Look Lisa, forget them. Forget all of us. You make sure that Ludwik, Felix and yourself survive. Here it’s just a question of who gets whom. A war of survival. If only he were to die. Disappear off the face of our world. Do you know what I mean? Then some of us might live. Livitsky, Ludwik, Freddy, me, the others. We would survive. Tell Ludwik that in Moscow we dream of dying in battle against our enemies … Hitler, Franco, Mussolini. Who wants to be executed by our own people?’

  Larin’s face was suddenly disfigured with hatred. She had never seen him like this before. He was the only one of the five Ls who had not fought in the civil war. Larin had always been a moralist. He possessed more vitality than the revolution needed, but he hated violence. Like Ludwik, he was too independent-minded to tolerate any theory that forced life to conform to it. Dogma repelled him.

  ‘I’ll tell you something, Lisa. We all know he’s going to kill us. We are witnesses to his crimes. Why … why doesn’t one of us have the guts to kill him? There are cases when individual terrorism is justified. Are there not, Lisa?’

  ‘Perhaps. But look at it another way. He’ll die one day. Will his death alone change what needs to be changed? Marxism would be in a sorry state if we believed in the powers of an individual. Ludwik thinks the problem goes deeper, much deeper.’

  Felix was fast asleep on the sofa.

  Larin began to talk of Ludwik and their life as children. The little town in Galicia began to come alive once again and as Lisa half shut her eyes listening to Larin’s chatter, she could picture the river and the trees on its edge and imagine her Ludwik as a boy, jumping in and swimming to the other shore.

 
‘Go home now, Lisa, and never come back.’

  ‘This used to be my home, Larin.’

  ‘I know. Keep yourself and one day tell the world how we were killed by our own people. And Lisa, tell Ludwik. Tell him never to come back.’

  As the Prague-bound train began to move away from Moscow, she felt like Orpheus emerging from Hades. She felt she was under observation. One look back would be a fatal gesture. A steadier heartbeat, a sigh of relaxation, lessening tension in her shoulders would prove her to be an enemy of the state.

  I used to love this city, she told herself.

  _______________

  *KPD: Communist Party of Germany.

  Eighteen

  IN GERMANY, you will agree Karl, everyone has a political family tree: history’s poisoned legacies, which we forget at peril to ourselves as individuals and human beings. Everyone has something in their past that angers or embarrasses them.

  There are things I have to tell you about Gertrude. Are you reading this a few months from now, or some time in the next century when you’ve scattered my ashes over the Wannsee and opened the sealed package, typed with human hands, copied on acid-free paper and, I hope, still intact? Are you reading it on your own? I’m trying to tell you this story in the order things happened, not the order I learned them, so you can share the ignorance I started with. There is artifice in the telling, but you get the whole story in the end. Don’t turn straight to the last chapter. I want you to share the way I felt while I was trying to find a voice you might listen to.

  Ten days before New Year’s Eve in 1956, Helge persuaded me to organize a party in our apartment. At first I resisted, but Gerhard and other friends joined in and the pressure became irresistible. The apartment was large. Gertrude was away in Moscow. Her supply of Russian vodka and caviar lay untouched. The entire country was in a state of anticipatory excitement. Khruschev’s speech denouncing the ‘crimes of Stalin’ at the Twentieth Party Congress in Moscow was only a few months old.