Mikhail left the next day to avoid being seen with Arnie. Both men knew their cover stories were good. They had also agreed, however, not to be seen leaving together and to keep their itineraries vague.
To make sure no attention was drawn to Mikhail leaving, Natalya decided to say goodbye at their flat. She was filled with worry. First there was the fear that the MGB would find out that Mikhail had lied about his reason for going north. They always found out. That’s why trying to hide something was never as good a strategy as trying to show a positive Socialist motive for doing it. She’d made sure that Fanya overheard her talking to Mikhail about his upcoming visit to an armored training regiment, around a hundred kilometers north of Helsinki. Fanya would, of course, relay that information to the MGB, probably a direct report to Sokolov. The MGB would figure the training-regiment story was Natalya covering for Mikhail. Mikhail, of course, would want to cover his “true” reason for going north, which was reconnoitering roads, bridges, and possible airfields. This was because, Natalya was certain, Mikhail’s story about going north to reconnoiter invasion paths would already have been reported to the MGB through their spies in the GRU, army intelligence. Having Fanya report a “false” story would probably satisfy the MGB that Mikhail was indeed going north to do legitimate military intelligence. That, however, was the actual lie. She shrugged off the Russian dolls within Russian dolls web of lies and explanations. It was what one did. It was the way life worked.
What she feared more than Mikhail’s race being found out were winter conditions in Finland. Mikhail’s missing little toe attested to them. Even though Mikhail drank and smoked as much as he had during the war, he was now older and in a sedentary job, but he still believed he was in his twenties. She knew the rules meant that Mikhail would ski alone. If something went wrong, he would die alone.
Added to that fear was that of the race becoming public. The MGB would then know for certain that Mikhail had lied about why he went north. The government could lie. It was for the good of the People. People, however, could not lie. That was bad for the government. Mikhail would have to be punished. In addition to that, if Mikhail lost in public, the capitalist Finnish press would make a very big deal about a Hero of the Soviet Union losing to an American. The Party and the state would be embarrassed. That would be worse than being lied to.
Damn Misha’s uninhibited spontaneity, even fearlessness. Those were things she loved about him. They could also destroy their lives.
Natalya put her hands around the back of Mikhail’s head, feeling his thick hair, the strength of his neck muscles. “Misha,” Natalya said, pulling him closer so her eyes looked directly into his, “don’t go.”
He held her close. Looking beyond her head into the future, he said, “Don’t worry, Natashenka. Don’t worry.” He gently pushed her back. “Hey, think of it like the Olympics.”
“We don’t participate in the Olympics for good reasons. We never lose that way.”
“Well, we should participate in the future. We need to show how a Socialist people are a better people. In every field.”
She nearly hissed, whispering, “Misha, stop that nonsense. We could lose you.”
He began collecting his gear, now a little annoyed. “It’s just a ski race for heaven sakes.” He smiled that cocky smile, another damnable reason she was attracted to him. “And I’ll win.”
She gave him a long kiss at the door, feeling the pressure on her lips, trying to lock it into her memory. Neither could stand parting without some sign of the deeper bond.
Mikhail disappeared down the stairwell and she turned inside. Fanya was sitting on the couch in the living room. She looked up at Natalya and smiled. Natalya wanted to scream at her and slap her supercilious face, but she stuffed her anger down with her fear. Mikhail would be alright. He always came through.