Fall of Giants

Lenin appeared, dressed as always in a shabby dark suit with a collar and tie. Grigori explained the situation rapidly.

“I’ll leave immediately,” Lenin said.

Anna said: “Don’t you want to throw a few things in your suitcase-”

“Too risky. Send everything later. I’ll let you know where I am.” He looked at Grigori. “Thank you for the warning, Grigori Sergeivich. Do you have a car?”

“Yes.”

Without another word Lenin went out into the hall.

Grigori followed him to the street and hurried to open the car door. “They have also issued warrants for Zinoviev and Kamenev,” Grigori said as Lenin got in.

“Go back to the apartment and telephone them,” Lenin said. “Mark has a phone and he knows where they are.” He slammed the door. He leaned forward and said something to Isaak that Grigori did not hear. Isaak drove off.

This was how Lenin was all the time. He barked orders at everyone, and they did what he said because he always made sense.

Grigori felt the pleasure of a great weight being lifted from his shoulders. He looked up and down the street. A group of men came out of a building on the other side. Some were dressed in suits, others wore army officers’ uniforms. Grigori was shocked to recognize Mikhail Pinsky. The secret police had been abolished, in theory, but it seemed men such as Pinsky were continuing their work as part of the army.

These men must have come for Lenin-and just missed him by going into the wrong building.

Grigori ran back inside. The door to the Yelizarovs’ apartment was still open. Just inside were Anna; her husband, Mark; her foster son, Gora; and the family servant, a country girl called Anyushka, all looking shocked. Grigori closed the door behind him. “He’s safely away,” he said. “But the police are outside. I have to telephone Zinoviev and Kamenev quickly.”

Mark said: “The phone is there on the side table.”

Grigori hesitated. “How does it work?” He had never used a telephone.

“Oh, sorry,” said Mark. He picked up the instrument, holding one piece to his ear and the other to his mouth. “It’s quite new to us, but we use it so much that we take it for granted already.” Impatiently he jiggled the sprung bar on top of the stand. “Yes, please, operator,” he said, and gave a number.

There was a banging at the door.

Grigori held his finger to his lips, telling the others to be quiet.

Anna took Anyushka and the child into the back of the apartment.

Mark spoke rapidly into the phone. Grigori stood at the apartment door. A voice said: “Open up or we’ll break down the door! We have a warrant!”

Grigori shouted back: “Just a minute-I’m putting my pants on.” The police came often to the kinds of buildings where he had lived most of his life, and he knew all the pretexts for keeping them waiting.

Mark jiggled the bar again and asked for another number.

Grigori shouted: “Who is it? Who’s at the door?”

“Police! Open up this instant!”

“I’m just coming-I have to lock the dog in the kitchen.”

“Hurry up!”

Grigori heard Mark say: “Tell him to go into hiding. The police are at my door now.” He replaced the earpiece on its hook and nodded to Grigori.

Grigori opened the door and stood back.

Pinsky stepped in. “Where is Lenin?” he said.

Several army officers followed him in.

Grigori said: “There is no one here by that name.”

Pinsky stared at him. “What are you doing here?” he said. “I always knew you were a troublemaker.”

Mark stepped forward and said calmly: “Show me the warrant, please.”

Reluctantly, Pinsky handed over a piece of paper.

Mark studied it for a few moments, then said: “High treason? That’s ridiculous!”

“Lenin is a German agent,” Pinsky said. He narrowed his eyes at Mark. “You’re his brother-in-law, aren’t you?”

Mark handed the paper back. “The man you are looking for is not here,” he said.

Pinsky could sense he was telling the truth, and he looked angry. “Why the hell not?” he said. “He lives here!”

“Lenin is not here,” Mark repeated.

Pinsky’s face reddened. “Was he warned?” He grabbed Grigori by the front of his tunic. “What are you doing here?”

“I am a deputy to the Petrograd soviet, representing the First Machine Guns, and unless you want the regiment to pay a visit to your headquarters you’d better take your fat hands off my uniform.”

Pinsky let go. “We’ll take a look around anyway,” he said.

There was a bookcase beside the phone table. Pinsky took half a dozen books off the shelf and threw them to the floor. He waved the officers toward the interior of the flat. “Tear the place apart,” he said.

{III}

Walter went to a village within the territory won from the Russians and gave an astonished and delighted peasant a gold coin for all his clothes: a filthy sheepskin coat, a linen smock, loose coarse trousers, and shoes made of bast, the woven bark of a beech tree. Fortunately Walter did not have to buy his underwear, for the man wore none.

Walter cut his hair with a pair of kitchen scissors and stopped shaving.