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“It’s not a laughing matter,” said Emma, pushing the papers aside. “If he’d still been in Russia when the first editions came out it would have been a completely different headline.”
“Well, at least look on the bright side.”
“There’s a bright side?”
“There most certainly is. Up until now, everyone’s been asking why Harry wasn’t in court supporting you. Well, now they all know, which is bound to make an impression on the jury.”
“Except that Virginia was brilliant in the witness box. Far more convincing than I was.”
“But I suspect the jury will have seen through her by now.”
“Just in case you’ve forgotten, it took you a little longer.”
Giles looked suitably chastened.
“I’ve just come off the phone with him,” said Emma. “He’s been held up in Stockholm. He seemed preoccupied and didn’t say a great deal. He told me he’s not expecting to land at Heathrow until around five this afternoon.”
“Did he get his hands on Babakov’s book?” asked Giles.
“His money ran out before I had time to ask him,” said Emma as she poured herself some coffee. “In any case, I was more interested in trying to find out why it had taken him almost a week to do a journey that most other people manage in under four hours.”
“And what was his explanation?”
“Didn’t have one. Said he’d tell me everything as soon as he got home.” Emma took a sip of her coffee before adding, “There’s something he’s not telling me, that hasn’t made the front pages.”
“I bet it has something to do with Babakov’s book.”
“Damn that book,” said Emma. “What possessed him to take such a risk when he’d already been threatened with a jail sentence?”
“Don’t forget this is the same man who took on a German division armed only with a pistol, a jeep, and an Irish corporal.”
“And he was lucky to survive that as well.”
“You knew what kind of man he was long before y
ou married him. For better or worse…” Giles said, taking his sister’s hand.
“But does he begin to understand what he’s put his family through during the last week, and just how lucky he is to have been put on a plane back to England rather than on a train heading for Siberia along with his friend Babakov?”
“I suspect there’s a part of him that will have wanted to be on that train with Babakov,” said Giles quietly. “That’s why we both admire him so much.”
“I’ll never let him go abroad again,” said Emma with feeling.
“Well, as long as he only heads west, it should still be all right,” said Giles, trying to lighten the mood.
Emma bowed her head, and suddenly burst into tears. “You don’t realize just how much you love someone until you think you might never see them again.”
“I know how you feel,” said Giles.
* * *
During the war, Harry had once stayed awake for thirty-six hours, but he was a lot younger then.
One of the many subjects no one ever dared to raise with Stalin was the role he played during the siege of Moscow, when the outcome of the Second World War still hung in the balance. Did he, like most of the government ministers and their officials, beat a hasty retreat to Kuibyshev on the Volga, or did he, as he claimed, refuse to leave the capital and remain in the Kremlin, personally organizing the defense of the city? His version became legend, part of the official Soviet history, although several people saw him on the platform moments before the train departed for Kuibyshev, and there are no reliable reports of anyone seeing him in Moscow again until the Russian army had driven the enemy from the gates of the city. Few of those who expressed any doubts about Stalin’s version lived to tell the tale.
With a ballpoint pen in one hand, and a slice of Edam cheese in the other, he carried on writing, page after page. He could hear Jessica remonstrating with him. How can you sit in an airport lounge writing someone else’s book, when you’re just a taxi ride away from the finest collection of Rembrandts, Vermeers, Steens, and De Wittes in the world? Not a day went by when he didn’t think of Jessica. He just hoped she’d understand why he had to temporarily replace Rembrandt with Babakov. Harry paused again to gather his thoughts.
Stalin always claimed that on the day of Nadya’s funeral, he walked behind the coffin. In fact, he only did so for a few minutes, because of an abiding fear of being assassinated. When the cortege reached the first inhabited buildings in Manege Square, he disappeared into the back of a car, while his brother-in-law Alyosha Svanidze, also a short, stocky man with a thick black moustache, took his place. Svanidze wore Stalin’s great coat so the crowd would assume he must be the grieving widower.
