Chapter 38: Глаза – зеркало уши. (The Eyes are the Mirror of the Heart)

January, 1982, Washington, DC

The flight to DC was uneventful and landed on time at Dulles Airport. It didn’t take long for me to deplane and when I walked out of the Jetway into the terminal, I immediately saw Colonel Anisimova. I walked over to her.

“Good morning, Comrade Colonel,” I said with a smile.

“Good morning, Stephen Rayevich. I see you are aware of my new rank, and you know how to properly address a Russian officer!” she said with a nod and the barest hint of a smile.

“Congratulations on your promotion to Colonel, Ma’am.”

“I am now Lieutenant Colonel and I am head of security for Comrade Voronin. Do you have a bag to retrieve from baggage claim?”

“Yes, Comrade Colonel, I do.”

We walked to the baggage claim, waited for my bag, then walked out the door of the terminal to a waiting limo. The driver put my bags in the trunk and then held the door while Colonel Anisimova and I got in. He headed towards Georgetown, where the Voronins’ official residence was located.

“We will be at the residence in about thirty minutes. I have been instructed to ask you if you need anything special while you are here.”

“Not that I can think of right now. I’m pretty sure I have everything I need with me.”

She nodded and then was quiet for the rest of the rest of the trip. We pulled up in front of a relatively new looking townhouse on 28th Street NW. Colonel Anisimova used the radio and said something in Russian that I could only assume was letting someone in the house know we’d arrived. My guess was confirmed when a young man in a suit came out the front door. Given his looks and build, I suspected he was a member of the security detail.

The driver got out and opened the door to let us out, then got my things from the trunk. I took them and followed two KGB officers into the house. Tatyana greeted me as soon as we walked in the door.

“Stepa! «Добро пожаловать»! Welcome!”

“Good morning, Tatyana Ivanovna!” I smiled.

She stepped forward and gave me the usual Russian greeting of kisses on the cheeks, then stepped back.

“Yuri will show you to room and then bring you back to lounge. Mother waits there for us.”

The young man led me up a flight of stairs to a very nicely furnished room that was twice the size of my bedroom in the apartment and was larger than my room at my parents’ house had been. I hung my suit bag in the closet, then unpacked my things and put them into the dresser. I set my bathroom kit on the counter of the attached bathroom, then followed Yuri downstairs to the lounge. He quickly left the room, closing the accordion doors behind him.

“Good morning, Stephen Rayevich,” Mrs. Voronin said.

“Good morning, Anna Vasilyevna,” I said, greeting her Russian style with kisses on the cheek.

“Your trip was good?” she asked.

“Yes. It was a short flight with no delays.”

“And your room is satisfactory?”

“It’s fine, thank you.”

“Good. If you are hungry, we can feed you, otherwise, I believe Tanya has plans for the day.”

“I’ll be fine until lunch, thank you,” I said.

“Come Stepa,” Tanya said, “we’re going to Smithsonian today. I wish to see exhibits. Have you been?”

“In 1974, so about eight years ago. I was only eleven, so I’m sure I will find it much more interesting now.”

“Good. We go. Yuri will come with us. We also see Lincoln Memorial and Washington Monument.”

“Is Yuri your new bodyguard?” I asked.

“He is member of security team, but part of diplomatic protection group, not KGB. Usually, I have woman bodyguard, but she is ill today. Colonel Anisimova will escort us to dinner.”

“OK,” I agreed.”

“She likes you,” Tanya added with a smile.

We said goodbye to her mother and then Tanya took my hand and led me to the front door. The limo was waiting and the two of us, plus Yuri, got into the car and we headed for the National Mall.

“FBI is following us today,” Yuri said, his face stoic, his head turned to look out the back window.

“Does that happen often?” I asked.

“Sometimes. But usually they do not follow Miss Voronin. I think they may be interested in you, because you are unknown to them.”

I chuckled, “Well, let the FBI follow me. I’m quite boring! Hopefully, they’ll enjoy the museum.”

Unless, of course, they were part of the task force that was constantly chasing the Mafia. Then it might make things interesting, but it was unlikely anything like that was going on, at least not here in DC. It did make me think that I needed to be a bit more careful when I contacted Theo, Richie, and Frank. I pushed those thoughts aside to focus on Tanya.

We had a wonderful afternoon touring the various buildings of the museum on the National Mall and took time to walk to the Lincoln Memorial and Washington Monument as Tanya had planned. We ate a quick lunch at the museum cafeteria midway through the day. About 6:00pm we headed back to the Voronins’ house and freshened up before heading to dinner at a small bistro that was just four blocks from the house.

Colonel Anisimova offered to sit at a different table so that Tanya and I could dine alone, but I invited her to sit with us after confirming with Tanya that it was OK. We had a nice meal and a good conversation. Colonel Anisimova explained that she’d been promoted when Minister Voronin was posted to Washington as Trade Attaché, and she said that she missed spending time with Tanya. Her duties usually didn’t permit it anymore, but she had made special arrangements for tonight.

“You’re very kind, Comrade Colonel. You don’t seem like a KGB agent to me!” I said with a smile.

“And what should KGB agent be like, Stephen Rayevich?” she asked.

I chuckled, “I suppose like in the James Bond movies. You know, like Rosa Klebb.”

Colonel Anisimova laughed, “She was a colonel as well! But I promise, I do not have a knife in shoe! Gun is far more effective!”

I laughed hard, “I certainly did not expect a sense of humor!”

“And why not, Stepa?” Tanya asked. “Do you not think she is normal person who loves and has friends and wishes to enjoy life?”

I shook my head, “I’m sorry. I guess it’s like the FBI or Secret Service. They all look very serious when they are doing their jobs, but they have families and friends and enjoy themselves on their time off, I’m sure.”

“Yes, this is true, Stephen Rayevich. I accept your apology.”

“Thank you, Comrade Colonel, I do not wish to be «некультурный»!”

She smiled and nodded. When we finished eating, we walked back to the house and went to join Tanya’s parents in the lounge.

“Ah, Stephen Rayevich! Welcome!” Ivan Voronin said, greeting me.

“Good evening, Ivan Konstantinovich!” I said.

“Come, talk with us for a moment. I trust everything is satisfactory?”

“Yes, very much so. We had a nice day together and had a nice meal. Thank you for allowing Colonel Anisimova to join us for dinner.”

“You’re welcome. You treated her quite well, and she spoke highly of you, so I arranged for her to do this.”

“He paid for her again, Father,” Tanya said.

“Yes, he is very «культурный»! Your young man has impressed everyone. Now, both of you go and change into informal clothes and join us in thirty minutes.”

I knew what that meant. Vodka. I’d drunk vodka and bourbon occasionally back in Chicago. Fortunately, I’d only have to make it up the stairs to bed, rather than take a cab or the El home. Of course, when this had happened in Chicago, I’d ended up sharing a bed with Tanya, separated by a wall of pillows. That wasn’t a bad result, but it was unlikely to happen at the Voronin’s residence, especially given I had my own room.

Tanya and I went upstairs to our rooms and changed. I put on sweatpants and a sweatshirt and waited. She came to my room wearing her silk outfit. She sat on the settee and patted the spot next to her. I went and sat down next to her. She smiled at me, and I leaned over to kiss her. We exchanged a soft French kiss, and then she sat back and sighed.

“Look me in eyes, Stepa, please.”

I did. She looked intently into mine for about a minute, but it seemed much longer, her sparkling blue eyes probing my thoughts. It almost felt like I was in a trance. Tanya broke the spell by speaking.

“There is an old Russian proverb, «Глаза зеркало души», which means ‘The eyes are mirror of soul’.”

I wondered what her eyes were telling me. Asking was the only way to find out.

“In English, we say ‘The eyes are a window to the soul’. I think they mean the same thing. What do my eyes tell you?”

“I will tell you later, after we spend time with parents. Now, I wish to kiss again!”

We kissed for another fifteen minutes, then headed downstairs and went into the lounge. A table had been set up and, as in Chicago, there was black bread, butter, cheese, several kinds of fruit and a plate of pickles. A bottle of Vodka sat dripping sweat on a small table next to what I assumed was Minister Voronins’ chair. I sat in the chair across from his, which Tanya had indicated by a simple gesture. Her father and mother came in a few minutes later and I stood when they entered the room.

“Sit, sit! We are friends here. No need for formality, Stephen Rayevich!”

The first glasses of vodka were poured, toasted, and drunk, chased down by a pickle.

“So, how are your studies, Stephen Rayevich?” Ivan asked.

“Top marks, I believe, is the correct phrase in Standard English. Straight A’s for the first semester. I had calculus, chemistry, physics, Computer Science, and German. Next week, I will start a new semester with calculus, two Computer Science classes, an English class, and class in European history.”

“No Russian?” he asked with a smile.

“It’s not offered at IIT. I was thinking of taking a class at some point. It would be interesting. I’ve been reading about Russia in my free time, as well.”

He nodded, “Yuri says that he saw a book about the Russian Church on the table by your bed. Why would you have this?”

Oops. Given that he was sponsored by a hardliner, he would certainly be opposed to the Russian Church, which had been suppressed quite forcefully. I also wasn’t surprised that at some point after we’d left for the day, someone had checked my room.

“It is of interest to me, Ivan Konstantinovich. I do not regularly attend church, but I have an interest in such things. I mean no disrespect.”

He waved his hand, “There is no disrespect, I was simply curious. You were raised going to church?”

“Yes, Roman Catholic.”

“And your opinion of the Pope?” he asked, almost too casually.

I knew that John Paul II, a Polish citizen, was no fan of Communism, and was a supporter of the Polish Solidarity union. That made him very unpopular with the Russians, to the point where it was speculated that they were behind the assassination attempt that Mehmet Ali Ağca had made in May of the previous year.

“I don’t really have one, I suppose. I haven’t been going to church since I was fifteen, and don’t bother myself too much with what he says. I do know that he’s outspoken about the issues in Poland.”

He nodded, “I’m sorry, I must sound like I am interrogating you! Let us change the subject.”

I smiled, “There’s nothing to apologize for, Ivan Konstantinovich. I took no offense.”

“You and Tanya are getting along well?” he said, once again almost too casually.

“Father, now you ARE interrogating him!” Tanya protested.

I put my hand on her arm, then said, “Yes, Ivan Konstantinovich. We are getting along just fine. Tanya,” I said gently, turning to look her in the eyes, “he’s just looking out for you, as his only daughter.”

Mrs. Voronin laughed, “He is a smart young man, Vanya.”

“Yes, he is. And «культурный», as we have said. I approve of your choice, Tanya,” he said with a smile.

“Father!” she protested.

Tanya’s reaction told me that he wasn’t just speaking about me escorting her to the dance. His words clearly held a deeper meaning, and that set off some alarm bells. She had mentioned back in August that she thought her father would be OK with me being her boyfriend. If that was what he meant with his approval, I’d just created a potential problem for myself.

On the other hand, I knew from Tanya’s letter that she’d be going back to Leningrad to finish the school year and wouldn’t be back to the United States until she and her mother moved in early August. I seriously doubted that she’d want a boyfriend that was a good 4,500 miles away. Even when she was in Boston, she’d be nearly 1000 miles away.

Several hours later, after a number of glasses of vodka and quite a bit of fruit and buttered bread, not to mention pickles, it was time to call it an evening. Just before midnight, Tanya’s parents said goodnight and rose to leave.

“You may join us for breakfast in the morning, if you wish,” Minister Voronin said, “or you and Tanya may have a private breakfast. We will see you for dinner tomorrow evening, either way.”

“Thank you,” I replied, and they left the room.

“Are you tired, Stepa?” Tanya asked. “Or do you wish to talk for a short time?”

“I’ll leave that to you,” I replied with a smile. “Your father didn’t give me too much vodka tonight!”

“Then good,” she replied with a smile of her own, took my hand. “Come with me.”

She led me up the stairs, but instead of going into the room on the left, which was mine, we went into the room on the right, which appeared to be hers. Her room was elegant, yet simple. To me, it looked like the room of a young, professional woman rather than the room of a teenager. Given the way Tanya carried herself, it didn’t surprise me. And it only reinforced the idea that she was part of an aristocracy that denied being an aristocracy.

“Sit, please,” she said with a smile, pointing to a settee that was similar to the one in my room, but red instead of blue.

I sat down and about a minute later, a young woman brought in a teapot and two glasses set in silver holders and set it on the table in front of the settee. Tatyana said something to her in Russian, which I suspected was a thank you and a dismissal, then sat down and poured tea into the glasses.

“Is Russian style tea service, not like in England with china. We use tall glass in holder.”

I accepted the offered glass of hot tea and sipped carefully and waited for Tanya to talk.

“Stepa, I am sorry for my father’s questions about us.”

“He’s just a dad looking out for his daughter, Tanya,” I replied. “It’s the same all over the world!”

“Yes, of course, but what matters is what you think and what I think.”

“That’s true. What do you think?”

“First, I think you are very nice boy. Second, I like you very much. Third, I know you are in love with me.”

“Tanya...” I protested, not because she was wrong, but because she was right.

“Do not argue, Stephen Rayevich! I see in your eyes when I look earlier. Is silly to argue against what I know is true!”

I simply nodded. Bethany had told me that I had fallen hard for Tatyana and she had been right. I had tried to deny it to Bethany and hadn’t succeeded any more than I would by trying to deny it to Tanya.

“You’re right,” I admitted, knowing that I had just opened a giant can of worms. “I am in love with you.”

“You are aware I must go home to Leningrad to finish school. Then I come back here in August for short time before I go to Boston to attend Harvard. We will still be distance apart, but not so far as from Russia to US! We both will by busy with studies, so I think we only see each other a few times, perhaps here in Washington for special events. So I do not think is practical to be your girlfriend now, or even soon.”

I barely suppressed a sigh of relief because I felt I had just dodged a huge bullet, at least for the near term.