Zemsky turned and looked at Olga questioningly. Olga found her voice. “I have no money,” she said.
“Who needs your money? We have plenty of money.”
Gromkov said, “She has something else.”
Before Olga could reply, Zemsky said, “Wait a minute, Yuri Ivanovich, you can’t expect her to do that.”
“That’s up to her. She can either be nice to us or go down to headquarters and get beaten up for a week or two. Maybe they’ll keep her in a nice shizo.”
Olga had heard about shizos. Unheated four-by-eight-foot cells with wooden-plank bed and no blankets. “Be nice to us.” What did that mean?
“It’s up to her.”
Zemsky turned to Olga. “What do you want to do?”
“I—I don’t understand.”
“What my partner is saying is that if you’re nice to us, we could just drop this whole thing. In a little while, they’ll probably forget about you.”
“What—what would I have to do?”
Gromkov grinned at her in the rearview mirror. “Just give us a few minutes of your time.” He remembered something he had once read. “Just lie there and think of the czar.” He giggled.
Olga suddenly understood what they were getting at. She shook her head. “No, I could not do that.”
“Right.” Gromkov started speeding up. “They’ll have a good time with you at headquarters.”
“Wait!” She was in a panic, not knowing what to do. She had heard horror stories of what had happened to people who had been arrested and become zeks. She had thought that that was all finished, but now she could see that it was not. Perestroika was still just a fantasy. They would not allow her to have an attorney or talk to anyone. In the past, friends of hers had been raped and murdered by the GRU. She was trapped. If she went to jail, they could keep her for weeks, beating her and raping her, maybe worse. With these two men, at least it would be over in a few minutes and then they would let her go. Olga made her decision.
“All right,” she said miserably. “Do you wish to go back to my apartment?”
Gromkov said, “I know a better place.” He turned the car around.
Zemsky whispered, “I’m sorry about this, but he’s in charge. I can’t stop him.”
Olga said nothing.
They drove past the bright red Shevchenko Opera House and headed for a large park bordered by trees. It was completely deserted at this hour. Gromkov drove the car under the trees and turned off the lights and engine.
“Let’s get out,” he said.
The three of them got out of the car.
Gromkov looked at Olga. “You’re lucky. We’re letting you off easy. I hope you appreciate it.”
Olga nodded, too frightened to speak.
Gromkov led them to a small cleared area. “Get undressed.”
“It’s cold,” Olga said. “Couldn’t we—?”
Gromkov slapped her hard across the face. “Do as you’re told before I change my mind.”
Olga hesitated an instant, and as his arm drew back to hit her again, she started unbuttoning her coat.
“Take it off.”
She let it drop to the ground.
“Now the nightgown.”
Slowly, Olga lifted the nightgown over her head and pulled it off, shivering in the cold night air, standing naked in the moonlight.
“Nice body,” Gromkov said. He squeezed her nipples.
“Please—”
“You make one sound, and we take you to headquarters.” He pushed her to the ground.
I won’t think about this. I’ll pretend I’m in Switzerland on the bus tour, looking at all the beautiful scenery.
Gromkov had dropped his pants and was spreading Olga’s legs apart.
I can see the Alps covered with snow. There is a sleigh going by with a young boy and girl in it.
She felt him place his hands under her hips, and he shoved his maleness into her, hurting her.
There are beautiful cars along the highway. More cars than I have ever seen in my life. In Switzerland everybody has a car.
He was plunging into her harder now, pinching her, making wild, animal noises.
I will have a little home in the mountains. What do the Swiss call them? Chalets. And I will have chocolates every day. Boxes of them.