“Shit,” said Tanya.

She stood outside the apartment door. She put her hand to her aching cheek: it seemed to be swelling grotesquely. She did not know what to do next.

The other person who might know what was going on was Cam Dewar. She probably could not phone him: she guessed all the civilian phones in the city had been cut off. However, Cam might go to the American embassy.

She ran outside, jumped back into her car, and headed for the south of the city. She cut across the outskirts, avoiding the city center, where there would be roadblocks.

So Staz had a wife. He had been deceiving both women. He was a smooth liar, Tanya thought bitterly: he was probably a good spy. Tanya was so angry that she felt like giving up on men. They were all the damn same.

She saw a group of soldiers putting up a placard on a lamppost. She stopped to look, though she did not risk getting out of her car. It was a decree issued by something called the Military Council for National Salvation. There was no such council: it had just been invented, no doubt by Jaruzelski. She read it with horror. Martial law was in force. Civil rights were suspended, the frontiers were closed, travel between cities was prohibited, all public gatherings were banned, there was a curfew from ten P.M. to six A.M., and the armed forces were authorized to use coercion to restore law and order.

This was the clampdown. And it had been carefully planned—that poster had been printed in advance. The plan was being carried out with ruthless efficiency. Was there any hope?

She drove off again. In a dark street two ZOMO men stepped into the light of her twin headlights, and one held up a hand to stop her. At that moment Tanya felt a stab of pain in her cheek, and made a split-second decision. She floored the accelerator pedal. She thanked the stars for her powerful German engine as the car leaped forward, startling the men, who jumped aside. She screeched around a corner and was out of their sight before they could deploy their guns.

A few minutes later she pulled up outside the white marble embassy. All the lights were on: they, too, would be trying to find out what was happening. She sprang out of her car and ran to the U.S. marine at the gate. “I have important information for Cam Dewar,” she said in English.

The marine pointed behind her. “That looks like him now.”

Tanya turned to see a lime-green Polski Fiat pulling up. Cam was at the wheel. Tanya ran to the car, and Cam rolled down his window. He addressed her in Russian, as always. “My God, what did you do to your face?”

“I had a conversation with the ZOMO,” she said. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“The government has arrested just about every Solidarity leader and organizer—thousands of them,” Cam said grimly. “All phone lines are dead. There are massive roadblocks on every major road in the country.”