The dreaded GRU.

They pushed their way past her into the room.

“What … what is it you want?”

“We will ask the questions. I am Sergeant Yuri Gromkov. This is Sergeant Vladimir Zemsky.”

She felt a sudden sense of terror. “What’s … what’s wrong? What have I done?”

Zemsky pounced on it. “Oh, so you know you have done something wrong!”

“No, of course not,” Olga said, flustered. “I do not know why you are here.”

“Sit down,” Gromkov shouted. Olga sat.

“You have just returned from a trip to Switzerland, nyet?”

“Y … yes,” she stuttered, “but it … it was … I got permission from …”

“Espionage is not legal, Olga Romanchanko.”

“Espionage?” She was horrified. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

The larger man was staring at her body, and Olga suddenly realized she was wearing only a thin nightgown.

“Let’s go. You are coming with us.”

“But there is some terrible mistake. I’m a librarian. Ask anybody here who …”

He pulled her to her feet. “Come.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To headquarters. They want to question you.”

They allowed her to put on a coat over her nightgown. She was shoved down the stairs and into the Chaika. Olga thought of all the people who had ridden in cars like this before and had never returned, and she was numb with fear.

The larger man, Gromkov, was driving. Olga was seated in the back with Zemsky. He somehow seemed less frightening to her, but she was petrified by who they were and what was going to happen to her.

“Please believe me,” Olga said earnestly. “I would never betray my …”

“Shut up,” Gromkov barked.

Vladimir Zemsky said, “Look, there’s no reason to be rough with her. As a matter of fact, I believe her.”

Olga felt her heart leap with hope.

“Times have changed,” Comrade Zemsky went on. “Comrade Gorbachev doesn’t like us to go around bothering innocent people. Those days are past.”

“Who said she’s innocent?” Gromkov growled. “Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. They’ll find out soon enough at headquarters.”

Olga sat there listening to the two men discussing her as though she were not there.

Zemsky said, “Come now, Yuri, you know that at headquarters she will confess, whether she’s guilty or not. I don’t like this.”

“That’s too bad. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yes, there is.”

“What?”

The man next to Olga was silent for a moment. “Listen,” he said. “Why don’t we just let her go? We could tell them she was not at home. We’ll put them off for a day or two, and they will forget all about her because they have so many people to question.”

Olga tried to say something, but her throat was too dry. She desperately wanted the man beside her to win the argument.

Gromkov grumbled. “Why should we risk our necks for her? What do we get out of it? What is she going to do for us?”

Zemsky turned to look 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 beds 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 rear-view 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.

Gromkov was withdrawing now, breathing heavily. He stood up and turned to Zemsky. “Your turn.”

I will get married and have children, and we will all go skiing in the Alps in winter.

Zemsky had zipped open his pants and was climbing on top of her.

It will be such a wonderful life. I will never return to Russia. Never. Never. Never.

He was inside her now, hurting her more than the other man had, squeezing her buttocks, and pushing her body into the cold ground until the pain was almost unbearable.

We will live on a farm, where it’s quiet and peaceful all the time, and we will have a garden with beautiful flowers.

Zemsky finished with her and looked up at his companion. “I bet she enjoyed it,” he grinned.

He reached down for Olga’s neck and broke it.

The following day there was an item in the local paper about a librarian who had been raped and strangled in the park. There was a stern warning from the authorities that it was dangerous for young women to go to the park alone at night.