Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [422]
How easy it was, Popov discovered, to go about his business unmolested. With his hat and his sketch book – and his careful references to Nicolai’s malady – no one seemed to suspect him of anything. It excited no suspicion if he loitered in Russka market, sketching. Even old Savva Suvorin had seen him near the cotton mill, and done no more than give him a bleak stare. And this last was important to Popov. For he was starting to make remarkable progress.
There was no question: young Grigory was a wonderful find. Who’d have suspected, Popov thought, that a chance encounter would lead to such a treasure? The fellow was intelligent, quick: and above all, he was bitter. He has judgement, Popov considered. He wouldn’t do anything rash like Nicolai Bobrov or Peter Suvorin. But no one who had heard Grigory speak his true mind about old Savva Suvorin and his factories could be in any doubt: if he needed to, he would kill. It seemed to Popov that there might be an important future awaiting Grigory – perhaps even a great one.
The girl was not bad, either. Natalia didn’t have her young man’s cold fire. But she was a rebel too, with a mind of her own. She hated the old order. And it appeared that she was determined to marry young Grigory. They’ll make a good team, Popov judged. He could see himself working with them for a long time, as things developed.
For the moment, however, until he was sure he could trust them, he was cautious. Though it was clear that Grigory would gladly burn down the factories and slit Suvorin’s throat, if he thought he could get away with it. Popov kept their conversations general. He would speak vaguely about the better order that was to come; he dropped faint hints about his friend Nicolai Bobrov’s connection with the mysterious Central Committee; he told them that he himself was only a new disciple of the cause. ‘Bobrov hasn’t told me much, and unfortunately he’s sick,’ he explained. And so, over two weeks, he found out far more about them than they did about him.
It was on the day after Natalia’s quarrel with her parents, when they were meeting in the storeroom where he had hidden away the printing press, that Popov told them in a confidential tone: ‘I have a message for you from Bobrov. He is impressed with what he hears of you and he wants to entrust you with a mission.’ He paused and, seeing they were interested, lowered his voice. ‘There is someone else in Russka who has contacts with the Central Committee. Tomorrow he will give you some leaflets, which you are to distribute selectively – to people you can trust – in the factories and in the village.’ He looked at them carefully. ‘But one thing is of the greatest importance. You must not speak to this person, and you must never reveal his identity to anyone.’ He looked grave. ‘The Committee knows how to deal with those who betray them.’
He could see they were impressed.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll do it,’ Grigory said with a grin.
It was the next day that young Peter Suvorin went to a quiet place near the dormitory where Grigory lived and, finding the young man and Natalia waiting there, gave them a package wrapped in plain white paper.
Peter followed his instructions precisely. He had no idea what the package contained. He spoke no word to Grigory or the girl; nor did they address him. But as he left the astonished couple, his heart was singing.
As well it might. For hadn’t Popov told him that this Grigory was in touch with the Central Committee? And were not these – the very young people who had good reason to hate and despise him – now his comrades? He was accepted. He was breaking free of his terrible inheritance at last. For the first time in weeks, he smiled.
Boris gazed at his sister with affection, and also with guilt. They had found a quiet spot by the river where they would not be disturbed, and only as they sat down did he suddenly realize that weeks had passed since they had last been alone like this.
Was it all his fault? When he and his wife had not asked her to live with them, they had not meant to desert