Angel Eyes (24 page)

The blue light from Vosstaniya Square filtered through the windows of Mars's bedroom. It was deep enough into the night so that the building's gastronome was closed and the cinema marquee below was dark. The sky was low with thick, metallic-looking clouds, and although it was late spring, there was a feeling in the air of snow that was somehow melancholy. Or perhaps, Irina thought as she undressed, it was the play that has depressed me. Of course, it can't possibly have been the sight of Natasha Mayakova.

She had been half hoping to run into Valeri at the performance, and now she wondered whether that had been her motivation for buying the tickets. Perhaps Stanislavsky would know, she thought wryly, but he was dead. She only knew that visions of her smiling at Valeri while she was on Mars's arm had filled her head all afternoon. Now that it hadn't happened, she felt deflated, empty. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, as if she had somehow taken a bite out of the clouds wreathing Moscow. And she could not figure out why. Here she was, with Mars, who could give her everything she ever wanted-well, almost everything-and yet her mind was filled with Valeri. Right now the man she wanted was Valeri-she wanted nothing more than to cleave herself to Valeri's musky body, twine her thighs around his, open herself to him.

She shuddered, frightened at the intensity of her emotions. It was as if she could no longer control her feelings. Did she love Mars? Then how could she still be lusting after Valeri? How could she still be jealous of his relationship with Natasha? What was happening inside her?

When she got into this situation she had been certain of who was right and who was wrong. She had allowed Valeri to co-opt her, partly because-Oh, he was so right about her!-he had made her see that she was more than a drone, one worker among many, undistinguished, unappreciated. It was so exciting to feel wanted by such a powerful man as Valeri Bondasenko. And then when he had so cleverly shown her that she could have more, that she could share in his power, she had been all too eager to do what he asked: spy on Mars.

But that was before she had ??m? to know Mars, before he had begun to share his private life with her. Now he seemed to be a wholly different person from the one she had set out to seduce. Now she felt ashamed of how she was betraying Mars to Valeri, and this shame caused her to be in constant turmoil, as if she could not relax even for a moment. She thought, My God, I'm headed for a nervous breakdown. And that frightened her even more, because then neither Mars nor Valeri would want her, and she would once again become nothing in her utter isolation. Now she felt as if only she-Irina Ponomareva-was in the wrong. Which way should she turn, to Valeri or to Mars? God help her, she did not know.

She felt Mars behind her. "What is it with you and windows? '' he said. ''You're like a cat who loves to stare at nothing. What is it you see out there that I cannot?"

Irina turned around. "I was just thinking."

Mars searched her face. "This sounds serious. It's too late in me night to be serious, koshka.'' Darling. What Valeri had called Natasha Mayakova.

"Don't you think that the darkness makes us more serious, more melancholy, sometimes?"

''I don't know.'' Mars cocked his head to one side. She could see that he was curious about her train of thought. ''I often do my best thinking at night."

"There. You see?"

"But it's the quiet," he said. "The intimation of sleep all around me."

"And when at last you do sleep. Mars, what is it you dream of?"

"Electronic sheep,'' he said. ''Powered by miniature nuclear reactors."

She could see, then, that he was making fun of her, but gently, trying to deflate her seriousness.

He gathered her into his arms. "What's gotten into you? Ever since we went to see Chekhov, you seem to have picked up his brooding soul. Is something the matter? Perhaps I can help. I'd like to help you, Irina." He put his lips close to her ear. "Do you know that my family has disapproved of every woman I have ever brought home. Everyone except you. My whole family loves you, Irina."

Irina felt a tingling, as if his words had galvanized her spirit. She found that she was holding her breath; she wondered if he could feel the thundering of her heart.

"I care so much for you."

She felt weak in the knees, as if he was saying in real life what she had dreamed about ever since he had taken her home to meet his family. A family, she thought-what I wouldn't give to have a father, a mother who knew and loved me.

She allowed him to draw her away from the window, the kind of precaution against electronic eavesdropping he did without conscious thought. He took her down the hall and into the bathroom. He turned on the tub taps. There was even hot water.

Naked, they climbed in together, letting the hot water chum around them. The background of splashing water had a soothing effect. They sat face to face, their legs around each other.

He laughed softly, kissed the tip of her nose. "You see, Irina, I have an overpowering urge to trust you. That's a dangerous urge for one in my position in government, someone who has such a powerful enemy in Valeri Denysovich. But lately I find I want to tell you things I'd never dare tell another soul. Crazy, isn't it?" His lips came down over hers, crushing them, opening them. Irina gave a little moan.

"Not crazy,'' Irina whispered, her eyes half closed. ''I think it's perfectly normal behavior for a man in love."

"But that's just it," Mars said. "For a man like me, being in love is the most dangerous state of all."

"Why?"

"You will become my weak spot."

Irina was aware of Valeri telling her that it was just as well he had emerged from his marriage childless because in this terrible world a child could be used against him. How similar these two men were, she thought, but how utterly different when one scratched the surface of their carefully prepared facades. Both were men who wore masks, and masks within masks when they faced the outside world. It gave Irina a fantastic thrill to have penetrated beyond those masks to see the true inner workings of two of Russia's most influential men. And now one, if not born, was in love with her. She was abruptly suffused with the scope of her own power, aware as if for the first time how in control she was, how more in control she would be once she unearthed the secrets that surely these men must harbor. She was not naive; even Mars was not a saint. Their power could not have been acquired without a degree of moral corruption.

The old Irina would have quailed from such a notion, but everything was different now. The power had changed her. She could see quite clearly that the rules for her-as well as for Valeri and Mars-were different than they were for everyone else.

Irina looked into Mars's eyes and, in that moment, she knew that she would never tell him about how Valeri had sent her to spy on him. This was a measure of her power over both men, and she would never give it up.

"Irina, I will tell you a secret," Mars said, "something you must promise never to tell anyone."

"I promise."

"I can well imagine how Valeri Denysovich, for one, would chop me up for fish bait if he ever found out I harbor a secret affinity for the nationalist group. White Star."

Irina watched him through the steam and her slitted eyes. This was the last thing she had expected him to say, and, under the circumstances, it completely disarmed her.

Mars said, "You see, Irina, Valeri Denysovich pretends at compromise with the Baltics with his much publicized treaty. But he gives them only token freedoms. Then, with the other hand, he comes down like a mailed fist against the Ukrainians, his own people. Imagine." He stroked her hair. "You see, despite all the monumental changes taking place in the outside world, nationalism is still a dirty word inside the Kremlin-a treasonable offense. In fact, there are some who believe that the president encouraged the pro-democracy spin in Eastern Europe to divert the increasing pressure the West was putting on us for holding on to the Baltics."

Mars took her hand in his. "I want you to understand this clearly: White Star, if it's legitimate-if it's not being run by fanatics and terrorists-must be recognized. We must look to the Poland model. Solidarity could not be denied. Its rise to power was, in the end, the will of the people. Our strength-though our own government has yet to realize it-is in our people. The Soviet peoples. The longer we suppress their individual freedoms, the more we keep them at arm's length. We imprison them, rather than embracing them. White Star could change all that, given half a chance. I think it's worth the risk to give them that chance."

Irina looked into Mars's dark eyes. "It happens that I agree with you."

Mars smiled. ''I knew you would.'' He wiped water droplets from her cheek. "Now I'm certain you'll agree to help me find White Star and talk to their leaders.''

"Me? How on earth could I possibly help?"

"Well, it occurred to me that while you were on one of your trips to America, you might have stumbled across a White Star supporter or two. It seems apparent to me that elements inside America would be only too eager to give what they could: money, arms, what-have-you, to White Star's cause."

"That may be true," Irina said, "but I never met any."

"Hmm. Well, it was just a thought," Mars said. He smiled, and wriggled closer to her. "I'll just have to muddle along on my own, then."

"Why?" Irina reached under the water for him. "When we can muddle along together," she said.

Irina awoke with a start. It was very dark in the room. She could hear Mars's even breathing as he slept beside her. She lay for a time watching a pattern of pale light spiderweb the ceiling. Then she rose without a sound and padded over to the window.

She thought deeply for some time, her mind turning over the possibilities her power opened to her. She took her time, forcing back the desire to race ahead. At last she came to the conclusion that she would, indeed, help Mars in his quest to find White Star. The dissident nationalist organization seemed to loom with greater importance. Both Mars and Valeri were interested in finding White Star, each for his own reasons. But Mars wanted to help White Star, while Valeri was most concerned with the smuggled hafnium.

And now she could feel White Star exerting its own magnetic pull on her. It was fate that Mars had opened himself up to her tonight, a sign. I need to help him, Irina decided. The way each man has reacted to White Star has given me a regained sense of right and wrong. And perhaps in helping the peoples of White Star gain their freedom, I will find the purpose in life that has been missing ever since I returned from Cambridge.

She nodded to herself, beginning at last to see a way out of her terrible dilemma. She would continue to spy on Mars for Valeri, but now it would be a facade. Her facade. She would pass on to Valeri only what she wanted to, only enough to keep him from getting suspicious. In the meantime, she would work on Valeri like an archaeologist at a dig. She would find out all he knew about White Star. But first she needed some kind of insurance.

She did not delude herself. Turning on Valeri Denysovich Bondasenko would be dangerous; if she were not very careful, it could have dire consequences for her. She thought of her dream of the Siberian winter and shuddered, because she knew that Valeri could send her there with no more than a wave of his hand. No one would dare raise his voice in protest. There could be no help for her, no reprieve, even from Mars.

She was smart enough to know that there was a personal element in this decision. To deceive Valeri as he was deceiving her would, in some measure, make up for the hurt he had caused her by seeing another woman. Again, part of her wondered why she should feel so hurt by Valeri, and why she felt it necessary to exact a measure of revenge. After all, it wasn't as if she did care for him, was it?

Insurance. Irina knew she would need it. Some kind of leverage, should Valeri ever find out what she was doing. Power was the only currency Valeri traded in, and Irina knew she needed to make a deposit before she set out against him.

She would have to follow him. Valeri had claimed that he had no secrets; Irina was convinced this must be a lie. Everyone had a secret or two that he or she did not want made public. Why should Valeri be an exception?

He had to have a weakness, some crack, no matter how tiny, in the armor of his power. But what could it be? Irina stared out the window into the blackness of the Moscow night. The air was thick and heavy, almost as cloying as the atmosphere in the lobby of the old Moscow Arts Theater.

And Irina, in sudden inspiration, knew just where to start. Her name was Natasha Mayakova.

Honno said, "What if Giin is already dead?"

"Then we'll hold a funeral," Big Ezoe said.

Looking into her face, he laughed. ''You know, being in love does something to you."

''I 'm not in love with Giin, if that's your implication,'' Honno said. "Have you forgotten Eikichi? "

Big Ezoe said, "You're the one married to Eikichi Kansei, yet you aren't in love with him.''

"Don't be an idiot," she snapped. "Anyway, why are we talking about me when Giin and Sakata-san's ledgers are missing?"

"Because my men are doing everything possible to find both. We have some time now. Just the two of us."

"Your tone is most offensive," Honno said. "Do all Yakuza deal in innuendo?"

"Our stock in trade, Mrs. Kansei." He grinned. "Sit down. If you keep pacing like that, you're apt to get a heart attack.''

Honno stopped in her tracks. She was about to say something acid, realized how useless her sarcasm would be on him, sat down instead.

They were in Big Ezoe's office. There was a great deal of activity outside in the warehouselike space. Honno hoped at least some of it was related to the search for Giin and the ledgers. She knew there were bodyguards around, but suspected that she would never quite manage to spot them all.

Honno had already spent two evenings out of the house, and, before Eikichi got suspicious, she knew she had to take some steps to ensure that she had uninterrupted time with Big Ezoe. Accordingly, she took a few days off her job at Michita Industries. She had to arrange for two women at Michita to cover her work while she was gone.