He parked right in front of the main entrance, took a moment to recover his self-possession, and walked inside.

Tanya’s editor, Daniil Antonov, was already there, arguing with a KGB man in the lobby. Daniil was a small man, slightly built, and Dimka thought of him as harmless, but he was being assertive. “I want to see Tanya Dvorkin, and I want to see her right now,” he said.

The KGB man wore an expression of mulish obstinacy. “That may not be possible.”

Dimka butted in. “I’m from the office of the first secretary,” he said.

The KGB man refused to be impressed. “And what do you do there, son—make the tea?” he said rudely. “What’s your name?” It was an intimidating question: people were terrified to give their names to the KGB.

“Dmitri Dvorkin, and I’m here to tell you that Comrade Khrushchev is personally interested in this case.”

“Fuck off, Dvorkin,” said the man. “Comrade Khrushchev knows nothing about this case. You’re here to get your sister out of trouble.”

Dimka was taken aback by the man’s confident rudeness. He guessed that many people trying to spring family or friends from KGB arrest would claim personal connections with powerful people. But he renewed his attack. “What’s your name?”

“Captain Mets.”

“And what are you accusing Tanya Dvorkin of?”

“Assaulting an officer.”

“Did a girl beat up one of your goons in leather jackets?” Dimka said jeeringly. “She must have taken his gun from him first. Come off it, Mets, don’t be a prick.”

“She was attending a seditious meeting. Anti-Soviet literature was circulated.” Mets handed Dimka a crumpled sheet of paper. “The meeting became a riot.”

Dimka looked at the paper. It was headed Dissidence. He had heard of this subversive news sheet. Tanya might easily have something to do with it. This edition was about Ustin Bodian, the opera singer. Dimka was momentarily distracted by the shocking allegation that Bodian was dying of pneumonia in a Siberian labor camp. Then he recalled that Tanya had returned from Siberia today, and realized she must have written this. She could be in real trouble. “Are you alleging that Tanya had this paper in her possession?” he demanded. He saw Mets hesitate and said: “I thought not.”

“She should not have been there at all.”

Daniil put in: “She’s a reporter, you fool. She was observing the event, just as your officers were.”

“She’s not an officer.”

“All TASS reporters cooperate with the KGB, you know that.”

“You can’t prove she was there officially.”

“Yes, I can. I’m her editor. I sent her.”

Dimka wondered whether that was true. He doubted it. He felt grateful to Daniil for sticking his neck out in defense of Tanya.

Mets was losing confidence. “She was with a man called Vasili Yenkov, who had five copies of that sheet in his pocket.”

“She doesn’t know anyone called Vasili Yenkov,” said Dimka. It might have been true: certainly he had never heard the name. “If it was a riot, how could you tell who was with whom?”