The Secret Speech Read Free Page B

unbound sheet music, maybe two hundred pages in total. Included among the music were documents relating to the business of the church and several original icons that had been hidden, replaced with reproductions. He hastily divided the contents into three piles, checking as best he could that complete musical compositions were kept together. The plan was to each smuggle out a more or less equal share. Divided in three, there was a reasonable chance some of the music would survive. The difficulty was finding three separate hiding places, three people who’d be prepared to sacrifice their lives for notes on a page even though they’d never met the composer or heard his music. Lazar knew many in his parish would help. Many were also likely to be under suspicion of some kind. For this task they needed the help of a perfect Soviet, someone whose apartment would never be searched. Such a person, if they existed, would never help them.
    Anisya threw out suggestions:
    – Martemian Syrtsov.
    – Too talkative.
    – Artiom Nakhaev.
    – He’d agree, take the papers and then panic, lose his nerve, and burn them.
    – Niura Dmitrieva.
    – She’d say yes but she’d hate us for asking. She wouldn’t sleep. She wouldn’t eat.
    In the end, two names-that’s all they could agree upon. Lazar decided to keep one portion of the music hidden in the church, along with the larger icons, returning them to the trunk and pushing the altar back into position. Since Lazar was the most likely to be followed, Anisya and Maxim were to carry their share of the music to the two addresses. They would leave separately. Anisya was ready:
    – I’ll go first.
    Maxim shook his head:
    – No. I will.
    She guessed his reason for offering: if Maxim got away then the chances were that she would too.
    They unlocked the main door, lifting up the thick timber beam. Anisya sensed Maxim hesitate, no doubt afraid, the danger of his predicament finally sinking in. Lazar shook his hand. Over her husband’s shoulder, Maxim looked at her. Once Lazar was done, Maxim stepped toward her. She gave him a hug and watched him set off into the night.
    Lazar closed the door, locking it behind him, reiterating the plan:
    – We wait ten minutes.
    Alone with her husband, she stood near the front of the church. He joined her. To her surprise, rather than praying, he took hold of her hand.
    Ten minutes had passed, they moved to the door. Lazar lifted the beam. The papers were in a bag, slung over her shoulder. Anisya stepped outside. They’d already said good-bye. She turned, watching in silence as Lazar shut the door behind her. She heard the beam lowered back in place. Walking toward the street, she checked for faces at the windows, movement in the shadows. Suddenly a hand gripped her wrist. Startled, she spun around.
    – Maxim?
    What was he doing here? Where was the music he was carrying? From behind the back of the church a voice called out, harsh and impatient:
    – Leo?
    Anisya saw a man dressed in a dark uniform-an MGB agent. There were more men behind him, clustering like cockroaches. Her questions melted away, concentrating on the name called out: Leo. With the tug of a single word the knot of lies unraveled. That was why he had no friends or family in the city, that was why he was so quiet in lessons with Lazar, he knew nothing of scripture or philosophy. That was why he’d wanted to leave the church first, not for her protection but to alert the surveillance, to prepare for their arrest. He was a Chekist, a secret police officer. He’d tricked her and her husband. He’d infiltrated their lives in order to gather as much information as possible, not just on them but on the people who sympathized with them, dealing a blow against the remaining pockets of resistance within the Church. Had attempting to seduce her been an objective handed down by his superiors? Had they identified her as weak, gullible and instructed this handsome officer to form a persona-