“You want I wait?” the driver asked.
Dana hesitated for only an instant. “No.” She paid the driver, got out of the taxi, and the icy wind pushed her into the small, shabby lobby. An elderly woman sat behind the desk, reading a magazine. She looked up in surprise as Dana entered. Dana walked up to the desk.
“Da?”
“I believe I have a reservation. Dana Evans.” She was holding her breath.
The woman nodded slowly. “Dana Evans, yes.” She reached behind her and pulled out a key from a rack. “Four-oh-two, fourth floor.” She handed it to Dana.
“Where do I register?”
The woman shook her head. “No register. You pay now. One day.”
Dana felt a new sense of alarm. A hotel in Russia where foreigners didn’t have to register? Something was very wrong.
The woman said, “Five hundred rubles.”
“I’ll have to get some money changed,” Dana said. “Later.”
“No. Now. I take dollars.”
“All right.” Dana reached into her purse and took out a handful of bills.
The woman nodded, reached out, and extracted half a dozen of them.
I think I could have bought the hotel with that. Dana looked around. “Where is the elevator?”
“No elevator.”
“Oh.” A porter was obviously out of the question. Dana picked up her bag and started walking up the stairs.
Her room was even worse than she had anticipated. It was small and shabby, the curtains were torn and the bed unmade. How was Boris going to contact her? This could be a hoax, Dana thought, but why would anyone go to this much trouble?
Dana sat on the edge of the bed and looked out of the unwashed window at the busy street scene below.
I’ve been a bloody fool, Dana thought. I could be sitting here for days, and nothing—
There was a soft rap on the door. Dana took a deep breath and stood up. She was either going to solve the mystery now or find out that there was no mystery. Dana walked over to the door and opened it. There was no one in the hallway. On the floor was an envelope. Dana picked it up and carried it inside. The piece of paper inside said VDNKh 9:00 P.M. Dana stared at it, trying to make sense of it. She opened her suitcase and took out the guidebook she had brought. There it was, VDNKh. The text read USSR, economic achievements exhibition, and it gave an address.
At eight o’clock that evening, Dana hailed a taxi. “VDNKh. The park?” She was not sure of her pronunciation.
The driver turned to look at her. “VDNKh? Everything closed.”
“Oh.”
“You still go there?”
“Yes.”
The driver shrugged and the cab leaped forward.
The vast park was in the northeast section of Moscow. According to the guidebook, the lavish exhibitions had been planned as a monument to Soviet glory, but when the economy fell, funds were cut off, and the park had become a decaying monument to Soviet dogma. The grandiose pavilions were crumbling and the park was deserted.
Dana stepped out of the taxi and took out a handful of American money. “Is this—?”
“Da.” He grabbed the bills and a moment later was gone.
Dana looked around. She was alone in the freezing, windswept park. She walked to a nearby bench and sat down and waited for Boris. She remembered how she had waited at the zoo for Joan Sinisi. What if Boris—?
A voice from behind Dana startled her. “Horoshiy vyecherniy.”
Dana turned, and her eyes widened in surprise. She had expected Boris Shdanoff. Instead, she was looking at Commissar Sasha Shdanoff. “Commissar! I didn’t expect—”
“You will follow me,” he said curtly. Sasha Shdanoff started walking rapidly across the park. Dana hesitated an instant, then got up and hurried after him. He walked into a small, rustic-looking café at the edge of the park and took a seat at a back booth. There was only one other couple in the café. Dana crossed over to his booth and sat down.
A slovenly waitress in a soiled apron came up to them. “Da?”
“Dva cofe, pozhalooysta,” Shdanoff said. He turned back to Dana. “I was not sure you would come, but you are very persistent. That can be dangerous sometimes.”