el.angeleyes-第79部分
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She thought； then； of what Natasha had said： Where did I e from？ My mother； my father。 My grandparents。 Most people know。 I know； Irina thought； but it makes no difference。 I am； like Natasha； an orphan now。 My mother no longer knows who I am。 I am dead to her…even worse； I have never existed。
Irina could remember her grandmother； splashed with thick lemon light； bustling about a kitchen warm with heat and good smells。 There was always a bit of food on the tip of Babushka's finger for Irina to taste； and when Irina begged for more…as she invariably did… Babushka would laugh； scoop up some more； blow on it to cool it sufficiently； before offering it to her granddaughter。
Irina remembered her grandmother as a strong woman in the way Soviet peasant women are strong： stolid； beefy…cheeked； hands as hard as concrete； with all the life sparkling in her eyes。
Irina did not remember her as smelling of boiled potatoes and cabbage； even when she was rocked against her grandmother's ample bosom； when； her belly full of Babushka's delicious cooking； she fell asleep to songs from Babushka's youth。
In the summer there was an emerald…green grasshopper who lived by the hearth。 Irina's father was forever trying to kill it； but Babushka kept it safe； or so she told Irina。
〃Grasshoppers are good luck； especially in the kitchen；〃 Babushka had said。 〃They talk to you； yes； it's true； little one。 Grasshoppers tell you when it's time to sow； and when it's time to reap your crops。 Grasshoppers are very valuable。〃
When Babushka died； everything changed。 Irina's father was transferred to a more modern nuclear plant； so the family moved to Moscow。 Irina； who had made something of a pet of the grasshopper who lived by the hearth； had tried to take it with her； but it had not survived the trip。 But then again； in Moscow there were no crops to sow or reap。
The afternoon sunlight was red as it squeezed through the slats in her mother's one…room apartment。 The young student whom Irina had hired to take care of her mother came in from shopping。
〃The lines are so long； one might as well camp out in the streets；〃 she said； piling her meager packages beside the sink。 ''And then the shops are out of anything one wants to buy。'' She shook her head。 〃There's really little point in shopping anymore。〃
〃She's worse；〃 Irina said。
〃Don't blame me；〃 the student said； stowing what food she had bought in the tiny refrigerator and cupboards。 〃Her medicine is in short supply。〃 She began to boil water for tea。 〃But； to be truthful； I can't see that the pills are doing her any good。 It's clear she has no idea where she is or what's happening around her。 If you ask me； she'd be better off dead。''
〃No one's asking you；〃 Irina snapped。
''I only meant that this is no way for a human being to live；'' the student said hastily。 She poured boiling water over loose black Russian Caravan tea； waited for the cut leaves to settle to the bottom。
〃Have you ever eaten a pizza？〃 Irina asked impulsively。
〃What？〃
She looked into the student's dull face； trying to see any hint of the spark she had seen in so many of the young faces lining the streets of Cambridge。 〃Nothing；〃 she said。 〃Drink your tea。 It's all right； I don't blame you。 She's just worse； that's all。〃
〃Everything's worse；〃 the student said； turning away。
And Irina； glancing from the student to her mother nodding in the rocker； thought of the grasshopper that had lived by her hearth。 I am in a vise； she thought； that is slowly squeezing the life out of me。 I must take some action before there are no seasons left for me to sow or reap。
The revelation hit her like a rifle shot。 All at once she understood why it was so important for her to find White Star。 It wasn't to help Mars； and it wasn't to get back at Valeri； although those motivations were still in play。 She needed to get to White Star for herself。
Irina knew the answer to her feelings of imprisonment： freedom。 Freedom not from people； but from the oppressive life in Russia which； despite all her attempts to lie to herself； she could no longer abide。
And； for her； freedom could mean only one thing： White Star。 The underground nationalist movement was her one chance to find her way to America。 To Cambridge； where every form of idea； theory； and philosophy was freely expressed； embraced； or rejected as the individual saw fit。
It was White Star； and White Star alone； Irina saw now； that could get her back to paradise。
〃There she is；〃 Mars Volkov said from the interior of his black Chaika。 〃Pick her up。〃
He was speaking into a mobile phone； and when he gave the order； three plainclothes men stepped out of the shadows。 Two moved to either side of Natasha Mayakova； pinioning her wrists。 The third moved behind her。
〃What is this？〃 Natasha said； astonished。 〃What do you want？〃
〃KGB；〃 said the plainclothes man behind her。 〃Keep calm。〃
Mars watched Natasha's eyes go wide with fear when the man whispered in her ear。 There was a measure of satisfaction to be gained by that； as if fear were a form of energy that could be ingested like food。
Mars's men brought Natasha to the Chaika。 The door opened； and with a stiff hand behind her neck； they pushed her inside。
One of the plainclothes men sat in the back so that she was sandwiched between him and Mars。 The man who had whispered in her ear climbed into the passenger's seat in front； and the Chaika took off。
〃Mars！〃 Natasha said； struggling to gain her equilibrium。 〃You needn't have been so melodramatic。 Where are you taking me？〃
〃The Lubyanka。〃
It was interesting； Mars thought； to see how her brave face began to crumble。 They all did it in different ways； his subjects； but like a catalogue of petty sins； there was an underlying correlation that bound them all together。
〃You've been a bad girl； Natasha。 I'm quite cross with you。〃
〃What gives you the right to speak to me as if you were my father？〃
〃This gives me the right；〃 Mars said； sending the back of his hand across her face in a stinging blow that sent Natasha's head whipping back against the seat back。
〃My God！〃 she gasped。 〃You animal！〃
〃We're both animals； Natasha；〃 Mars said。 〃You and I。〃 He watched the blood seep from the cut in her skin just below her cheekbone。 He thought the flash of color did her good。 〃You are gnawing at the underbelly of the state。 But there are rules to be observed。 The state demands obedience from one and all； I as well as you。 If； one day； I am found wanting； as you have been； I； too； will wind up in the Lubyanka。〃
〃What a load of shit；〃 Natasha said。 〃You and I are like night and day。 You are KGB。 Are you surprised I know？ The Hero told me； but how he knew I can't imagine； locked away like a prisoner or a laboratory experiment。 Surely you didn't tell him； Mars。 You're far too devious for that。 You've been hoping to be his kindly uncle； haven't you？ 'Put your head on my shoulder； old son； and tell me everything；' that's more your style。 But you haven't fooled the Hero； and you haven't fooled me。 The foul stink of the KGB is all over you； no matter how you try to hide it beneath cordiality and greasepaint。 Like all the other members of the secret police； you enjoy all the perquisites your thoroughly corrupt nature can gobble up。 Oink！ Oink！ rade Volkov！〃
〃I see；〃 Mars said； nodding as if to himself。 〃I imagine that you are still under the misapprehension that the same guardian angel who protected you when you made such a dangerous fool of yourself and us in New York City will extricate you from this situation。 Put such fantastic thoughts from your mind； Natasha。 I am in the process of stripping your guardian angel of his power。 He doesn't know it yet； but he is ready to take his fall from grace。 And； as he is about to learn； it is a long； painful way down。〃
The black Chaika turned a corner； came gliding into Dzerzhinsky Square。 Natasha's last look at the outside world was of the place on the corner of Kirov Street； where once had stood the Church of Our Lady of Grebvev； demolished； like so many houses of worship； as the munists rebuilt areas of Moscow。
In the Lubyanka； the KGB's fortresslike prison across Dzerzhinsky Square from Detsky Mir； the world's largest children's store； Natasha Mayakova was divested of her possessions； stripped； searched； given threadbare prison togs； delivered to a cell that measured eight feet in each dimension。 There was no window； but a large light； protected by a metal grill； protruded like an exophthalmic eye from the center of the ceiling。 It was off when Natasha was placed in the cell； but some time afterward； when she had lain down on the board that served as a bed； it went on。 She turned toward the wall； put her hands over her eyes； but she could not block out the light。
It was very cold in the cell； and Natasha began to shiver。 She thought she should be hungry； but she was not。 The cold made her tired； but the light cut inside her closed eyelids as if prying them apart。 Her mind refused to let her sleep； but when she sat up； she was abruptly dizzy； and had to hold on to the board to keep from pitching headlong onto the stone floor。
She put her back against the wall； closed her eyes。 She could hear the accelerated beating of her heart； was aware of the blood pulsing through her veins。 She tucked her feet under her in an attempt to keep them warm。 The light went off。 She drifted into a light sleep。 An instant later…or so it seemed…the light came on again； but she could not shake herself fully awake。 Instead she lapsed into a kind of limbo that sapped her of more strength。
Some time later…she had no idea how long…she was pulled from her cell。 It was done during a period when the light was out； so that she was pulled out of sleep。 She was taken three floors up； led into an interrogation room。 Mars Volkov sat behind a scarred wooden table； an open dossier in front of him。 There were two wooden chairs in the room； Mars was sitting in one。 Natasha sat in the other one。
〃Stand up；〃 Mars said。
〃What？〃
''I said stand up！〃 he shouted； so that Natasha jumped to her feet。 〃You do not sit until told to do so。〃
〃Bullshit。〃 Natasha was regaining a semblance of her self…possession。 She sat。 Almost immediately； she s
