Chapter 14: Ostankino

Moscow, Thursday 8 days after Vyera's departure.

The Northern suburbs of Moscow are dominated with the soaring, graceful, heroic, Ostankino TV Tower. The Russian Government has long understood the usefulness of 'statement' architecture and the Tower was opened in 1967 to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the October Revolution. It stands just over 540 metres tall. It's the tallest free-standing structure in Europe. (1)

The Moscow Television Centre, a near neighbour, stands on Ostankinskaya Ulitsa. It's a large but undistinguished block of a building, the like of which could have been built in any European city at any time after the nineteen fifties. Recently the exterior had been decorated with coloured shapes. From a distance they merge to form abstract designs. The studio block has been adorned with strips of colour, so the whole building looks like a giant, coloured, bar code. The colours soften the severity of the original utilitarian design but the inherent ugliness of the structure means it will never be a jewel in Moscow's architectural crown. Even the recent addition of the elevated Moscow Monorail track, which should have given the place some space-age pizazz, only seems to emphasise the need for some serious re-development. (2)

The Television Centre is where Sveta prepares and records the TV programme she produces and presents. On this particular morning, she has been involved with an editorial conference to discuss the next series but as she walks down the never-ending corridors of the building, impatiently stabbing at her phone to send a text message, her mind is actually much more occupied with what Vyera Anatolyevna might be doing. The time is 12:30 Moscow time, so subtract three hours, the time in the UK will be 9:30 What will Vyera be doing at 9:30? Cleaning her home? Exercising? Thinking about what to cook Joseph for their evening meal together?

Sveta misses Vyera a lot. She understands that pain can sometimes be the reward of the righteous, but Sveta is surprised at just how much she misses Vyera. It is strange; after all the pain Vyera had caused when she was with them in Moscow; after all the bad memories she had stirred, just by being there...

Andrei is waiting for Sveta in her car. He has been summoned by Sveta's text and reverses her Jaguar XKR into the reserved parking space kept for senior officials and Stars of the Station. Svetlana Nikitechna is definitely a Star.

As Andrei gets out, a black BMW drives slowly past and brakes right in front of his space, blocking his exit. Immediately Andrei is on the alert. The front two doors of the BMW open. Two unpleasantly tough looking individuals rise from their seats and turn to fix him with their gaze. Andrei casts a glance over his shoulder. Sveta is out of the building and hurrying through the rain towards him. He quickly looks back: the rear door of the BMW has opened. An elegant figure is getting out. He holds up a rolled up newspaper and waves, calling: "Svetlana Nikitechna! Svetlana Nikitechna! Over here!"

Andrei feels he is losing control of the situation. He does not like the look of the driver and front seat passenger in the BMW one little bit. He looks back to Sveta and begins to raise his arm, to attract her attention, his voice ready to shout a warning, to send her back into the safety of the building, but then he sees her face break into a smile of recognition. She raises an arm of her own calling "Mikhail Barisovitch!" in return.

The elegant figure is now standing in the drizzle, wearing a pale Aquascutum trench coat and a trilby, almost a parody of an American movie star.

"Svetlana Nikitechna! How are you? Have you a few moments for one of your followers?"

Sveta walks straight up to the Visitor:

"Of course, Mikhail Baryseyevitch. For you I always have time. This is an unexpected pleasure!"

The two kiss, formally, once on each cheek.

The minders have now walked slowly over to Andrei to speak with him. There is a cocky surliness about them which spells 'trouble'.

"Now listen sonny", says the front seat passenger, "my Boss is taking your Boss out to lunch. Just you run along home and remember this is confidential. That is to say confidential from everyone. Can we trust you to keep your mouth shut?" He places his hands on his hips and his jacket opens to show his automatic. The message is very clear.

Meanwhile Sveta and Mikhail have settled in the back of his car. "We will take you back, Sveta my dear, when we are done. Let's just let the boys sort themselves out and they we can be on our way."

The Ukraina

Mikhail and Sveta enter the foyer of the Ukraina hotel. It's a massive building on a bend in the Moskva River. It has been lavishly refurbished for the elite and whilst even the elite have to pass through a security barrier, the barrier does not delay Mikhail Baryseyevitch and Sveta his guest. As soon as the staff spot them entering the foyer, they are whisked through into the hotel proper. (4)

"Well, Sveta? What do you think of Moscow's latest grand hotel?" Mikhail gestures at the dome over the hotel's lobby. He looks across at the reception desk where staff wait patiently to deal with each guest's every wish. He nods towards an elegant looking uniformed receptionist and says, conspiratorially, "Do you know that one condition of employment is that you must be attractive? Why, even the domestic team and the engineers must be beautiful! Alas, when I retire from government service, there will not be an opening for me here, not even to change light bulbs..."

"Perhaps not changing light bulbs Mikhail Baryseyevitch but surely a man of your experience will find a seat on the board of directors for himself?" Sveta is wondering why Mikhail has brought her here. Of course she is happy to see him but he rarely – never, if she is honest with herself - acts without some motive beyond that of mere social nicety.

"Well, perhaps so but will I be attractive enough? Will I be beautiful? Or must I be tucked far away from guests and kept well out of view?"

"Public Service is not always kind to us, Mikhail Baryseyevitch and yet, an old face is not an ugly face. These young people: what storms have they weathered? What campaigns have they fought? Their faces are like a blank page, still waiting for life to write upon them."

"Ah, Svetlana Nikitechna! Such a wonderful way with words! You even find it in your heart to console an old crustacean like me!"

Mikhail Baryseyevitch actually does remind Sveta of a crustacean in several ways. There's something about him that's sinister, living concealed at the bottom of the sea, armoured against enemies and armed with large and terrible claws to seize and dismember his prey. Sveta is on her guard, despite all the flirtatious small talk and complements. Mikhail Baryseyevitch wants something. He wants something from her or wants to tell her something. Either way, he has not travelled all the way to Ostankino merely to pick up a lunch companion.

"I thought the Buono Restaurant would be a good place for us, Svetlana Nikitechna. There is something I like about Italian food. Refreshing and yet satisfying. A warm breeze from the South to warm our Northern faces!" Mikhail Baryseyevitch chuckles at his own good humour.

Presently Sveta finds herself seated at a table on the terrace, looking out at a stunning view of Moscow and across the table at a more intimidating view: her old colleague from the Security Service. She notes that he is very well-dressed now and has obviously caught the habit of taking trouble over his appearance: his silver hair is carefully cut and styled, his pale blue shirt and silver grey tie enhanced by contrast against his slightly tanned skin. In the past years, Mikhail has obviously absorbed refinement from somewhere.

"So how are you Sveta?" (Sveta notices at once that Mikhail Baryseyevitch is using the informal familiar form of her name. He is claiming some intimacy) "You know, I always watch your programme. You have such a clear presentation of events and I do enjoy the way you manage to place then in such sharp historical context."

"Why thank you Mikhail Baryseyevitch, (Sveta chooses to reply with respectful formality) but I have a team to help me."

"So it is not exclusively your own efforts," he teases, "but then credit comes for astutely assembling your team."

Sveta is beginning to tire of Mikhail's elegant verbal dance. He hasn't brought her to lunch to discuss her TV programme, she is sure. She decides to try to move things forward. "How can I help Mikhail Baryseyevitch?"

"No, no my dear this is not an occasion for me to lay any requests before you, rather how can I help you? Anatoly Sergeyevitch has difficult – slippery – issues on his mind just now."

"Yes and I am afraid I am mostly responsible for his difficulties." She isn't surprised that Mikhail knows about the problems with Vyera. There is a circle in Moscow – especially those of the service - that just knows.

"Now, now Sveta," the Crustacean stretches his hand over the table to grasp Sveta's forearm, "do not be too severe with yourself."

"Thank you Mikhail Baryseyevitch, but it is true: I lost objectivity."

"Over Verochka?"

"Yes, over little Vyerochka. I had forgotten why Anatoly acquired her and what her training was aimed at. Actually I still find it hard to imagine her as merely a slave." Somehow Sveta finds it easy to talk to Mikhail, easy to be candid, easy to open up, easy to say things she wouldn't imagine saying to anyone else. Something about the intentness of his gaze, his very evident effort to listen, encourages her to talk. It's an aspect of his personality that many others have found impossible to resist, to their great misfortune.

"Why is she different for you, do you think?"

"Well ... well ... you see ... it was when I learned her date ... her ... her birthdate. It reminded me..."

"Aha, yes, I understand ... she reminded you of a child you never had, because of Popova."

"Yes, because of Popova." (5)

"We understand Sveta, we understand. Did you know Popova had cancer? She was trying to build her own memorial, so to speak. I think she lost objectivity, too. Vyera was a very unlucky coincidence and..."

"And when Vyera proved to be such a nice person, I suppose I began to think of her as much more than ... well much more than just another of Anatoly's 'special employees'."

"I know, I know."

"So I decided I had to do something good. Just for the sake of someone else. To make them happy first before I thought of my own interests. To actually show that I was grateful for all life had given me, in the end. Anatoly. Alana. Dmitry. All the material blessings we enjoy. How strange it is that in being good, I seem to have caused so much chaos!"

"Now Svetlana Nikitechna: courage. Out of chaos came creation. A creative approach. Is what we require. I think the key here is to be yet more generous. Did you know that I had discussed matters with Anatoly Sergeyevitch?"

Sveta isn't surprised but Anatoly hadn't mentioned it. Mikhail goes on as a waiter appears to present a dish of anti-pasto. Sveta doesn't remember ordering and she doesn't remember Mikhail ordering but that is often the way with him. Things just happen around him. "I wonder if the key to the whole situation could be found in a redefinition of terms, so to speak." Sveta smiles to herself. Mikhail specialises in redefinition; it was his stock in trade. Not confession but acknowledgement, not disclosure but description, not betrayal but a recognition of where ones best interests lay. "Instead of puzzling over how to entice Vyera back into slavery, why not merely offer young Joseph McEwan a better employment opportunity? His wife wishes to be with him. That is normal, who would want otherwise? That need not conflict with your goals. If he is with you and she is with you, this would be easier for you, I think. His company is merging with a competitor. None of them know whose position has a future? What if young Joseph McEwan were to loose his job. That would be sad for him and for poor Vyera. Perhaps this points to a way forward? To bring the McEwans back into your orbit and under the influence of gravity once again and if gravity is strong enough – as I am sure it will be - they will be unable generate an escape velocity?"

Sveta takes a fork full of paper thin Parma ham. It is soft and limp but it has a strong, salty taste. The contrast between the smooth and the sharp seems to mirror Mikhail's quiet words.

"And how are you and Tolya? Are you still happy?"

"Of course I am Mikhail Baryseyevitch. Tolya is the only man I ever have wanted." Sveta notices that the intimacy of the conversation has increased two notches: the use of Anatoly's diminutive name and of course the shift in the topic of discussion.

"And are you the only girl for him?"

"Well of course it can be different for a man but he is always honest."

"Yes, I am aware that he sometimes has to pay a price. I see you have not allowed him to regrow his hair yet!"

"Yes, well I do get a bit," Sveta pauses, unusually uncertain for a moment of the word to describe her feelings, "disappointed in his ... interest ... in the British professor! The way she seems to think that every time she is in Moscow, she can get her hands on Tolya. I suppose I do feel jealous of her. Tolya had to pay with rather more than his hair, because that was for something else, anyway. He had tried out one of his 'special employees' so I thought it would be nicely symmetrical if they both had to pay a price and I decided they would face the world with shaven heads. She looks wonderful. I think her new Owners have kept her that way."