Tatiana shrank back. `Three men, Comrade Colonel.’
`When. How old were you?’ The hard yellow eyes looked across the table into the hunted blue eyes of the girl and held them and commanded.
Tatiana was on the edge of tears. `At school. When I was seventeen. Then at the Institute of Foreign Languages. I was twenty-two. Then last year. I was twenty-three. It was a friend I met skating.’
`Their names, please, Comrade.’ Rosa Klebb picked up a pencil and pulled a scribbling pad towards her.
Tatiana covered her sobs. `No, never, whatever you do to me. You have no right.’
`Stop that nonsense.’ The voice was a hiss. `In five minutes I could have those names from you, or anything else I wish to know. You are playing a dangerous game with me, Comrade. My patience will not last for ever.’ Rosa Klebb paused. She was being too rough. `For the moment we will pass on. Tomorrow you will give me the names. No harm will come to these men. They will be asked one or two questions about you–simple technical questions, that is all. Now sit up and dry your tears. We cannot have any more of this foolishness.’
Rosa Klebb got up and came round the table. She stood looking down at Tatiana. The voice became oily and smooth. `Come, come, my dear. You must trust me. Your little secrets are safe with me. Here, drink some more champagne and forget this little unpleasantness. We must be friends. We have work to do together. You must learn, my dear Tania, to treat me as you would your mother. Here, drink this down.’
Tatiana pulled a handkerchief out of the waistband of her skirt and dabbed at her eyes. She reached out a trembling hand for the glass of champagne and sipped at it with bowed head.
`Drink it down, my dear.’
Rosa Klebb stood over the girl like some dreadful mother duck, clucking encouragement.
Obediently Tatiana emptied the glass. She felt drained of resistance, tired, willing to do anything to finish with this interview and get away somewhere and sleep. She thought, so this is what it is like on the interrogation table, and that is the voice the Klebb uses. Well, it was working. She was docile now. She would co-operate.
Rosa Klebb sat down. She observed the girl appraisingly from behind the motherly mask.
`And now, my dear, just one more intimate little question. As between girls. Do you enjoy making love? Does it give you pleasure? Much pleasure?’
Tatiana’s hands came up again and covered her face. From behind them, in a muffled voice, she said, `Well yes, Comrade Colonel. Naturally, when one is in love . . .’ Her voice trailed away. What else could she say? What answer did this woman want?
`And supposing, my dear, you were not in love. Then would love-making with a man still give you pleasure?’
Tatiana shook her head indecisively. She took her hands down from her face and bowed her head. The hair fell down on either side in a heavy curtain. She was trying to think, to be helpful, but she couldn’t imagine such a situation. She supposed … `I suppose it would depend on the man, Comrade Colonel.’
`That is a sensible answer, my dear.’ Rosa Klebb opened a drawer in the table. She took out a photograph and slipped it across to the girl. `What about this man, for instance?’
Tatiana drew the photograph cautiously towards her as if it might catch fire. She looked down warily at the handsome, ruthless face. She tried to think, to imagine … `I cannot tell, Comrade Colonel. He is good-looking. Perhaps if he was gentle . . .’ She pushed the photograph anxiously away from her.
`No, keep it, my dear. Put it up beside your bed and think of this man. You will learn more about him later in your new work. And now,’ the eyes glittered behind the square panes of glass, `would you like to know what your new work is to be? The task for which you have been chosen from all the girls in Russia?’
`Yes, indeed, Comrade Colonel,’ Tatiana looked obediently across at the intent face that was now pointing at her like a gun-dog.