When Natalya arrived that morning for work at the legation, she was surprised to see an old friend of Mikhail’s who had served with him in the GRU, military intelligence, during the war. The man put down his small traveling bag and briefcase and reached out to give her a hug and kiss her on both cheeks.
“Grigori, what are you doing here?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Orders. Left Leningrad several hours ago. Was told to report to a Comrade Colonel Sokolov. You know him?”
Natalya could not speak. She could only put on her tight smile and nod.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing.”
“Is Mikhail around? It would be great to see him.”
“No. He’s …” She hesitated. What did Grigori know? Was asking if Mikhail was around a cover for why he was really here? How should she answer? Was he even really a friend? “He’s doing some research up north on invasion routes to and from Sweden and Norway.”
The man laughed. “If I know Mikhail, he’s probably up there mooning about the romance of the Arctic and watching reindeer.”
Natalya smiled. It’s what you did with fear when you couldn’t show weakness.
She left her desk for tea often that morning, trying to figure out what was going on in the MGB section of the legation. More army officers came in. That was unusual. The MGB and the army were generally bureaucratic rivals. She tried to think of reasons that did not involve Mikhail why the army, particularly Mikhail’s friend from army intelligence, had been flown in from Leningrad. Then even more MGB officers arrived, ones she hadn’t seen before. The free-floating fear now coalesced in her stomach.
The arriving officers all crowded into a single conference room. The door was shut. An MGB guard stood in front of it. This meeting was not ordinary.
The meeting broke up after only an hour.
Natalya had been waiting. She hurriedly made her way to the hallway where she could intercept Mikhail’s friend Grigori. When he saw her, he made an almost imperceptible shake of his head. His eyes flicked toward the side of the building facing Itäinen Puistotie, the eastern park road. She fought down a rush of panic.
A few minutes later, after telling her fellow staff members that she needed an outdoor smoke break, she found him by a tree leaning on the iron picket fence on the southwest corner of the grounds. They were near a large park that in summer had a lawn and shady trees, perfect for picnics. Now, the trees were stark structures, silhouetted against snow-covered ground and standing like lone sentinels watching over times past.
Grigori gave her a bear hug, kissing her on both cheeks. Then he offered her a Lucky Strike cigarette, popping it up by striking the bottom of a khaki cardboard US Army C ration minipack. She took it, giving him a conspiratorial smile, clearly declining to ask how he got it. He lit it and then lit one of his own. Two guards on duty in front of the legation could clearly see them, so in a way, it would look like old friends sharing a smoke.
Natalya pasted on a happy smile and moved her head and arms as if delighted to talk to an old friend. She asked quietly, “Was it about Mikhail?”
The friend nodded.
“Is he in danger?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “In a bit of trouble, yes.” He looked at her kindly. “Try not to worry.”
She took another nervous drag on her cigarette. “Easy to say.”
“It was a meeting to inform, not plan actions.”
“Meaning?”
Grigori sighed. “The army has now officially been informed that the activities of one of its top intelligence officers has come to the attention of the MGB. Any action taken will of course be in accordance with established protocols that had been worked out between the old NKVD and the army during the war.”
“Protocols,” she repeated.
“Protocols, for when an army officer comes under suspicion of espionage.”
Natalya winced. They both knew that there was no defense against suspicion of espionage. Once suspected, you were automatically convicted of being suspected.
Glancing briefly at the guards, Grigori leaned in a little bit. “I’m sorry, Natalya. I can say no more.” He ground out his cigarette on the sidewalk, saying as he did so, “We both know that Mikhail’s, shall we call it, exuberance had him in a couple of scrapes with the NKVD during the war. He managed his way clear of those. He has powerful friends in the Red Army.”
“That was during the war,” Natalya said, “when Stalin needed the army as much as he needed the NKVD. Maybe Misha’s friends are no longer so powerful.”
“You must know how we all respect him. Even many in the MGB.” He held her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. “We’ll do the best we can.” Then he kissed her on both cheeks again and set off down the street, leaving her feeling very alone.