Evie was apoplectic. “It’s outrageous!” she said.

“Of course it is,” said Dave. “That’s show business.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

On the day Dimka’s divorce became final, there was a meeting of top Kremlin aides to discuss the crisis in Czechoslovakia.

Dimka was bucked. He longed to marry Natalya, and now one major obstacle was out of the way. He could hardly wait to tell her the news, but when he arrived at the Nina Onilova Room several other aides were already there, and he had to wait.

When she came in, with her curly hair falling around her face in the way he found so enchanting, he gave her a big smile. She did not know what it was for, but she smiled back happily.

Dimka was almost as happy about Czechoslovakia. The new leader in Prague, Alexander Dubcek, had turned out to be a reformer after Dimka’s own heart. For the first time since Dimka had been working in the Kremlin, a Soviet satellite had announced that its version of Communism might not be exactly the same as the Soviet model. On April 5 Dubcek had announced an action program that included freedom of speech, the right to travel to the West, an end to arbitrary arrests, and greater independence for industrial enterprises.

And if it worked in Czechoslovakia it might work in the USSR too.

Dimka had always thought that Communism could be reformed—unlike his sister and the dissidents, who believed it should be scrapped.

The meeting began, and Yevgeny Filipov presented a KGB report that said bourgeois elements were attempting to undermine the Czech revolution.

Dimka sighed heavily. This was typical of the Kremlin under Brezhnev. When people resisted their authority, they never asked whether there were legitimate reasons, but always looked for—or invented—malign motives.

Dimka’s response was scornful. “I doubt if there are many bourgeois elements left in Czechoslovakia, after twenty years of Communism,” he said.

As evidence Filipov produced two pieces of paper. One was a letter from Simon Wiesenthal, director of the Jewish Documentation Center in Vienna, praising the work of Zionist colleagues in Prague. The other was a leaflet printed in Czechoslovakia calling for Ukraine to secede from the USSR.

Across the table, Natalya Smotrov was derisive. “These documents are such obvious forgeries as to be laughable! It’s not remotely plausible that Simon Wiesenthal is organizing a counterrevolution in Prague. Surely the KGB can do better than this?”

Filipov said angrily: “Dubcek has turned out to be a snake in the grass!”

There was a grain of truth in that. When the previous Czech leader became unpopular, Dubcek had been approved by Brezhnev as a replacement because he seemed dull and reliable. His radicalism had come as a nasty shock to Kremlin conservatives.

Filipov went on. “Dubcek has allowed newspapers to attack Communist leaders!” he said indignantly.

Filipov was on weak ground here. Dubcek’s predecessor, Antonín Novotný, had been a crook. Now Dimka said: “The newly liberated newspapers revealed that Novotný was using government import licenses to buy Jaguar cars that he then sold to his party colleagues at a huge profit.” He pretended incredulity. “Do you really want to protect such men, Comrade Filipov?”