“I’m going to take out the garbage and take Stanislav for a walk. Do you want to come with me?” She hoped the lure of his vodka and football would dissuade him.
“No. I do not.”
“Do you want me to stop at Teremok and pick you up anything to eat?”
“I have eaten.”
“I won’t be long.”
“Take your time,” he said. “It’s not like you’re here even when you’re home.”
Again she sighed. “What would you have me do, Helge? Quit my job? What would we do for money? How would we live? Drink your vodka. Watch your football. I will take care of Stanislav.”
Helge raised his glass of vodka as if to salute her. “Priyatnoy progulki.”
She shook her head and left the room. At the front door she put back on her jacket, grabbed the leash, and clipped it to Stanislav’s collar. The little dog was giddy with joy, shaking so violently Kulikova had trouble snapping the leash to the metal ring. “Idi syuda, malen’kiy. My s toboy kak sleduet pogulyaem.” Come. Come, little one. We will take a good long walk.
Helge heard the front door to the apartment latch closed and hurried to the kitchen, dumping the remains of his glass of water down the sink. He removed the bottle of vodka from the cabinet and poured a small amount in the glass, swirling it, then hurried to the living room and again set the glass on the side table. He opened the window to the small balcony and looked over the side. Maria exited the building beneath the two light sconces and turned east, Stanislav leading the way.
Helge rushed to the hallway and pulled open the closet, removing the plastic shopping bag with the jacket and driver’s cap he had purchased earlier that day at a charity shop. He slipped them on as he hurried out the door to the elevator.
When the doors opened on the ground floor, he strode across the lobby, acknowledging the doorman’s greetings. “Dobryy vecher, Helge. Smotreli segodnyashniy match?” the doorman said. Good evening, Helge. Did you see that game today?
“Spartak played like crap,” Helge said. “I won’t be gone long. Just to get a pack of Marlboro Gold.”
“Your wife just left.”
“Yes, I know. She needs to walk the dog.”
He turned in the same direction as Maria. Despite the fading daylight, Helge spotted his wife across the sidewalk, waiting while Stanislav took care of his business. He pulled the cap low on his brow and stuffed his hands in the jacket pockets as he surveyed two men at a chessboard.
When Maria continued walking, Helge crossed the street.
Maria turned on Akademika Petrovskogo Street, rather than take Stanislav through the park. Odd. She walked toward the Shabolovskaya Metro station and descended the stairs. Very odd, but also promising. Perhaps a visit to see her lover? He quickened his pace so as not to lose her in the Metro. He had suspected for some time that Maria had a lover. Since his retirement he was certain of it. The wrong numbers had been far too frequent to be coincidence, as had been the many late nights Maria worked. Acquaintances had also confided to him that they had seen Maria out at night, going into restaurants and hotels, which caused him to search the apartment and find the expensive jewelry stuffed at the back of her dresser drawer. Helge certainly had not purchased it for her. A good friend whose father had worked for the KGB told Helge the FSB would not be happy to learn Maria was having an affair, given her position as Secretariat director. They would want to know her lover’s identity so they could vet the man and be certain Maria had not told him things she should keep to herself. His friend said if Helge played his cards correctly, turning in his wife before she made a critical mistake, there might even be a little something in it for him.
He descended the escalator, weaving between those people standing still. He located Maria on a platform just as the train arrived. She looked over her shoulder before she entered the car. Helge ducked his head and stepped onto a different car. He picked up a newspaper from an unused seat and moved to the sliding doors between the cars. He did not see Maria in the adjacent car. He slid open the doors and stepped past the seated and standing commuters, moving to the far end. Again, he peered through the doors between the cars. Though there was plenty of seating, Maria stood holding a hand strap, Stanislav sitting at her feet. Helge lifted the newspaper but watched her reflection in the Metro car window.
Maria exited at the Tyoply Stan station near the Yasenevo District. Helge lowered his head and hunched his shoulders, trying to melt in with the exiting commuters. Maria entered a store inside the station. Helge moved behind a shoe stand in the vaulted terminal as Maria spun a postcard rack. She appeared to be looking beyond it. Could she suspect that he had followed her? It seemed unlikely. She expected to find him passed out in front of the television.