Russian Treasures

33. THE ATTIC

All this time, Nina had felt as though she were trapped under the ice, and now, suddenly, she had been pulled into the sun. Her whole body trembling and her breath coming in gasps, she stared dumbstruck at Klim. He was here alive! Beaten black and blue but safe.

He had come to his senses and was gazing at Nina as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. He reached out to touch her, but she shook her head in fear. Shushunov and the driver must not find out whom they had just rescued.

Klim smiled knowingly.

“Alive—” Nina breathed with tears in her eyes.

The automobile pulled up to a shabby two-story building on Morskaya Street.

“Did you want to come here, ma’am?” the driver asked as he turned to Nina.

Only then did she realize that he really had taken her and Klim to the counterintelligence office. There was a guard at the door of the building and a long line of people waiting for news of imprisoned relatives. A Russian Imperial flag torn by the wind into three colored strips fluttered on the roof.

Nina tried to take money from her wallet, but her fingers refused to obey her. She thrust the wallet toward Shushunov. “Here, take it. You can share it between the two of you.”

Shushunov silently tucked her wallet into his chest pocket.

Nina leaned over to Klim. “Can you walk?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Don’t tell anyone about what happened,” Nina said to Shushunov. “This man is my friend—I never expected to see him again in such circumstances. Leave us now, please.”

Wincing from pain, Klim got out, Nina slammed the door, and the automobile disappeared around the corner.

There was a tang of salt in the air, and they could see the blue-black waves with white crests behind the leafless trees on the embankment.

Nina glanced at Klim. “Let’s find a place to sit down.”

Nina was speechless. She wanted to say something, but all she could do was weep.

As usual, Klim made light of their miseries and even tried to joke. “Who were you aiming at when you fired into the air?” he asked. “Were you angry with the Almighty? I have to say that I was annoyed at Him too. Why is it that every time we see each other after a long separation, He tries to kill one of us?”

“Don’t be blasphemous!” Nina snapped. “Not now.”

He smiled. There was a huge bruise on his cheekbone and a gash above his eyebrow, but it was still Klim, her beloved husband.

They sat beside the water watching the sunlight glittering on the waves and the clouds parting like theater curtains.

Klim told Nina of his encounter with Fomin. “I suppose he must have been the one who paid those thugs to attack me.”

Nina was overcome with hatred and bewilderment. If Fomin cared about her so much, how could he try to take away from her the person she loved most? Then she felt fear. What could she and Klim do now? Where could they go? How could they get out of Novorossiysk? What if the driver or Shushunov were to tell Fomin that Nina had ransomed his enemy using his own money?

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” Klim said. “Today, you and Sofia Karlovna will board the French steamer. That way I’ll be sure that you’re safe.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Nina said firmly. “We’ll get you documents. The French are evacuating relatives and families of their fellow countrymen. You’re my husband, so that means they’ll give you a visa.”

Klim smiled bitterly. “I’m not sure I count as a relative of a Frenchwoman, seeing as I’m the husband of her son’s widow. And I don’t have any documents—only a translator’s identification card that I was given by the British.”

“In any case, you can’t go back to the Froimans, and you won’t find another room at any price. There’s no alternative—you’ll have to stay in our attic.”

Klim stared at her. “What—in Fomin’s house?”

Nina nodded. “You’ll need to spend a few days in bed while Sofia Karlovna and I apply for your visa.”

“And meanwhile you’ll be downstairs with Fomin, will you?”

“Don’t talk nonsense!”

They argued briefly, but made up at once and began to give each other hasty, muddled promises. Nina wept, holding Klim tightly as she kissed his lips and unshaven cheeks.

“We have to go now,” she said, “or we won’t have time to arrange everything before Fomin comes back.”

Nina sent all of the servants on errands and went back to fetch Klim, who was waiting for her around the corner.

As they entered the house, Klim glanced at the dusty curtains and cramped, gloomy rooms cluttered with expensive but shabby furniture. “So, this is where you’ve been this time,” he said. “I’ve walked past this house a couple of times.”

Nina brought him to Sofia Karlovna’s room. “Look who I’ve found!”

The old countess dropped her lorgnette into her lap. “Klim, is it you?”

Nina told her what had happened.

“Are you out of your mind, bringing Klim here?” Sofia Karlovna cried. “What if Mr. Fomin finds out? He came back at lunchtime, and I told him that the French had refused him a visa. He was so angry that I thought he was going to kill someone.”

Nina took the revolver out of her purse and gave it to Klim. “Here,” she said. “You keep this just in case. Sofia Karlovna, you must go to Colonel Guyomard and tell him we’ve found Klim, and we’re—I mean, I am—not going to go anywhere without him. Klim doesn’t have a passport, but you’ll have to explain to them that it’s nonsense to ask for passports at a time like this.”

Nina rushed around the house making sure that Klim had something to eat, heating up water for his bath, and finding clothes he could change into. His whole body was covered with crimson bruises, and her heart sank when she remembered her own experience with peritonitis.

“Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?” she asked.

“Honey, I’m absolutely fine.”

They asked Sofia Karlovna to stay by the window and keep an eye out to see if anyone came to the house, but the old countess kept leaving her post to give Nina an earful about Fomin’s treachery.

“I would never have thought that he would attack anybody in such an underhand way.”

Klim winked at her. “Quite deplorable. If a gentleman is angry with another gentleman, the proper thing to do is to challenge him to a duel, not pay a bunch of lowlifes to do the job for him. Don’t worry. We’ll have a duel later.”

“Please stop it!” Nina pleaded.

“I don’t think Klim should stay in the attic,” Sofia Karlovna said, shaking her head in disapproval.

“Where do you suggest we go?” Nina asked. “Do you want us to sleep in the street?”

The attic was dusty and stuffy, and doves cooed behind the dormer window. Nina was worried that Klim wouldn’t be comfortable there. She brought him blankets, food, water, and a stack of old issues of the Niva, a wholesome family magazine. She stopped in the middle of the room, wondering what else she could do for him.

“At night, I’ll heat the stove so it’ll be warm from the chimney here,” she said. “Stay right above my room, and don’t worry about Fomin. He spends all his time at work, so we’ll be alone in the daytime. I hope the servants don’t find out about you.”

“Mr. Fomin is here!” Sofia Karlovna shouted from downstairs.

Nina kissed Klim on the cheek and made the sign of the cross over him.

“Don’t fuss too much over me,” Klim said with a frown. “Your Fomin can’t hurt me.”

Nina put a finger to his lips. “Remember when you said, ‘I’ll arrange everything’? Now, it’s my turn.”

Fomin was quiet and gloomy. Now and again, Nina began to worry that she was overacting—she was being too nervous and ingratiating.

“Are you upset about something?” she asked Fomin at dinner.

He gave her a sullen, bear-like look. “It’s nothing. Just a little Jew that played a dirty trick on me. I broke a few of his ribs, and it will be awhile before that son of a bitch is back on his feet.”

Nina tried not to show the shock she was feeling. Klim had told her that he was worried Jacob Froiman might come to grief because of him.

“Where were you this afternoon?” Fomin asked suddenly.

Nina flinched. He must have found out about Klim.

Sofia Karlovna, the old fool, looked up at the ceiling, and Nina picked up the meat knife from the table. If Fomin tries anything, I’ll kill him, she thought.

“I went for a walk,” she said, surprised at how hard her voice sounded. “It was nice outside.”

“Shushunov told me you didn’t take him with you.”

Nina stared straight into Fomin’s eyes. For a moment, she regretted having given her handgun to Klim.

“It won’t do to go out alone, my dear,” Fomin said. “You’re a young woman, and there are all sorts of riffraff in this town. Next time, take Shushunov with you.”

So, it seemed the bodyguard and driver hadn’t talked.

Fomin poured himself cognac and knocked it back in one gulp.

“I’ve had an idea about how to get permission to be evacuated,” he said. “But I need your help. We all know that the French are only allowing close relatives of their fellow countrymen on board. So, why don’t you marry me? As a pure formality, of course.”

“But you’re married,” Nina said in fear.

“Who’s to know that?”

“Mr. Guyomard will immediately find out it’s a fake marriage,” Sofia Karlovna said. “They’ve only just given us back your documents, and I already told him all about Nina.”

Fomin thought for a moment, drumming his fingers on the tablecloth.

“Then I shall have to become Klim Rogov,” he said. “I hate the thought of getting into another man’s skin, but I don’t have a choice. Recently, I posted an ad in my newspaper about Mr. Rogov looking for his spouse. Let’s say he’s still alive and has been miraculously reunited with his family. Did you mention to Guyomard that Rogov was an Argentine citizen?” Fomin asked, turning to the old countess.

“Yes, I did.”

“Then tell him that you made a mistake, and he just lived in South America for a long time. We can’t forge Argentine documents here, but I can get a Russian passport for Klim Rogov tomorrow afternoon along with a certificate of exemption from mobilization. We’ll make Rogov the Second a bit older and put my own physical description in his papers. Sofia Karlovna, you’ll have to convince Colonel Guyomard to get a visa for this man who is as dear to your heart as your own son. If he asks for money, tell him that I’m prepared to come to an understanding.”

Nina and Sofia Karlovna looked at each other.

“I’ll do what I can,” the old countess said.

Nina was speechless. If everything went according to plan, Fomin was unwittingly about to provide Klim with a passport and a visa. But what would happen to Fomin?

Let him go to hell, Nina thought angrily. He wanted to kill my husband. I don’t owe the man anything.

That night, Fomin had a guest, a Captain Igoshin who served in counterintelligence. The two men shut themselves up in the living room and talked about something for a long time. Exhausted, Nina sat waiting for the captain to leave and Fomin to go to bed.

She had made the stove in her room so hot that she could barely breathe, but she didn’t mind as long as Klim was warm. There wasn’t a sound from the attic. Is he all right up there? she wondered anxiously. At least, thank God, he had done nothing yet to give himself away.

Finally, Igoshin went home, and Fomin knocked on Nina’s door. “Would you like a nightcap with me?”

She knew she should be polite and gracious, but she hadn’t the strength to dissemble.

“You need to get some rest,” she said. “Just look at yourself—you haven’t had a good night’s sleep for days.”

“Speak for yourself, my dear.”

“I’m going to bed now.”

A naval gun boomed offshore.

Fomin kissed Nina’s hand. “Why are you shaking? That’s only the British trying to scare off the Greens.” His eyes were tired and bloodshot, the pupils dilated.

Nina felt pierced by a sudden, sharp pity for him. He had lost everything, and he was unloved and doomed. But still, she pulled her fingers out of his rough palms.

“Good night.”

An hour later, she crept carefully up to his bedroom door and looked inside. The light was still burning. An empty bottle of cognac stood on the table, and Fomin snored on the couch still in his clothes and shoes.

Quietly, Nina climbed the ladder to the attic. The stairs creaked treacherously under her feet, and she winced at every step. What if somebody overheard her?

Slowly, Nina opened the hatch. She was greeted by the musty smell of an unlived-in room and a cold breath of air. It was pitch black, and she had nothing to light her way.

“Klim!” she whispered.

“I’m here.”

A hot wave of relief swept over her body. Thank God, he was all right.

Groping across the attic, Nina found her way to where Klim was lying and put her head on his shoulder. He covered her with his blanket, pressed her to his chest, and groaned softly.

“Oh, they gave me a thrashing all right,” Klim said.

“I don’t want anybody else,” Nina sobbed quietly. “I just want to love you—and to be with you—”

Klim quietly ran his fingers through her hair. “I still can’t believe I’ve found you. Up here, I can hear everything everyone says downstairs. That counterintelligence agent was lying to Fomin. He told him that his boys had killed me and thrown my body into the sea. He got fifty francs for it—so now I know my true worth. And all the time, I was lying here as though I’d already died and gone to heaven.”

“Don’t talk about it!” Nina pleaded.

She kissed him in the pitch darkness like a phantom, a spirit she had called up. She tried to be cautious but kept forgetting and surrendering to warm delight.

Somewhere outside came the sound of shooting, and Nina got to her feet. “I have to go, or someone will wake up and find out I’m not in my room.”

“Go on then,” Klim said, still holding her hand. “Nina—is it true that I’ve really found you again? Maybe this is just some sort of delirium? If it is delirium, I don’t want to wake up.”