The Red Horseman Read Free Page B

the door in his
face.
    “No trouble, Jack,” she told him now. “Where
are you going?”
    “Moscow! It’s my first overseas assignment.”
The enthusiasm in his voice was tangible.
    Callie stifled a laugh. Yocke had been
maneuvering desperately for two years to get an
overseas assignment. Other than a short jaunt
to Cuba, he had spent most of his five years at
the Post on the metro beat covering police and
local politics. “Good things come to those who
wait,” she told him.
    “Actually,” Yocke said, lowering his voice
conspiratorially, “I got the nod because our number
two man over there had a family emergency and had
to come home. My biggest asset is that I’m
single.”
    “And you’ve been asking for an overseas
assignment.”
    “Begging might be a better word.”
    “Moscow? He’s going to Moscow?” Jake
Grafton repeated when his wife went into the
study to give him the news.
    Callie nodded. “Moscow. It’s dangerous
over there, I know, but this is a big break for him
Professionally.” She left the room to see about
dinner.
    “He’ll certainly have plenty to write about,”
Jake Grafton remarked to himself as he surveyed
the piles of books, newspapers and magazines
strewn over the desk and credenza.
    He was reading everything he could lay hands on these
days about the Soviet Union, the superpower that had
collapsed less than two years ago and was now
racked by turmoil. Like a ramshackle old house
that had withstood the winds and storms long past its time,
the Communist empire fell suddenly, imploded,
shattered like old crystal all in a heap. Now
ethnic feuds, runaway inflation, famine and a
gradual disintegration of the social order were fueling
the expanding flames.
    “Plenty,” Grafton muttered listlessly.
    Yocke’s enthusiasm for his new adventure set
the tone at dinner. Almost thirty, tall and lean,
he regarded his new assignment as a great
challenge. “I can’t stand to go into that District
Building one more time. This is my chance to get
out of metro once and for all.
    His chance to get famous, Jake Grafton thought,
but he didn’t hold that against him didn’t say it.
The young reporter oozed ambition, and the one of the
essential ingredients to a life of great accom im.
Ambition seemed to plishments. Lincoln had it, and
Churchill, Roosevelt…
    Hitter. Josef Stalin.
    Grafton played with his food as Jack Yocke
talked about Russia. Toad Tarkington seemed
preoccupied and quieter than usual. Tonight he
listened to Yocke without comment.
    “It’s hard to imagine the Russian empire
without a powerful bureaucracy.
    The bureaucracy was firmly entrenched by 1650 and
became indispensable under Peter the Great.
    It was the tool the czars used to administer the
empire, to run the state. The Bolsheviks just
adopted it pen and paper clips when they took over.
The problem at the end was that the bureaucracy lost the
capability of providing. The infernal machine just
ground to a halt and nothing on this earth could get it
started again without the direct application of force.”
    “Not force,” Jake Grafton said. “Terror.”
    “Terror,” Yocke agreed, comwh the
leadership was no longer in a position to supply.”
    “Where did they go wrong?” Callie asked.
“After the collapse of communism and the dissolution of the
Soviet state, everyone was so hopeful. Where did
they go wrong?”
    Everyone at the table had an opinion about that, even
Amy. “No one over there likes anyone else,”
she stated.
    “All the ethnic groups hate each other. That
isn’t right.
    People shouldn’t hate.”
    Toad Tarkington winked at her. Amy was growing
up, and he liked her very much. comHow’s the driving
going?” he asked when there was a break in the conversation.
    was Great,” Amy said, and grinned. “Except for
Mom, who Sits there gritting her teeth, waiting
for the crash.”
    “Now, Amy . . . .” Callie began.
    “She knows it’s going to be bad-teeth, hair and
eyeballs all over the dashboard.”