The Diplomat's Wife(110)

“So you found a way to bring me to England and meet me,” I say slowly, thinking aloud. “But I didn’t plan on coming to England. I didn’t even have a visa until Rose…” I stop, the awful truth dawning on me slowly. I turn to Dava. “You killed Rose.”

She looks down. “It was the only way.”

“Dava,” Simon says, his voice cautioning. “That’s enough.”

I remember meeting Simon on the ship, his job offer. “But I was engaged to Paul, so I could not have possibly…” A rock seems to hit me in the stomach, knocking me backward. “The crash wasn’t an accident, was it?” Dava turns away. Neither of them answers. I lean against the stairway railing for support. The newspaper headline, announcing the plane crash, appears suddenly in my mind. “All of those men, gone.” Murdered. “You knew that once Paul was gone I would have no choice but to come to work for you,” I say.

He nods. “The fact that you were pregnant and I could marry you to keep a closer eye on things was a bonus.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You knew about Rachel?”

“That she wasn’t mine, you mean? Yes. I can add. I didn’t care, though. Having a wife and daughter added to my cover, gave me an air of respectability at the Foreign Office I would not otherwise have had as that odd bachelor chap everyone suspected might be homosexual. And Rachel will continue to give me that same credibility in Moscow.”

“No!” I cry. Breaking free of his grip, I run up the steps of the plane and push past Dava.

Inside, the plane is a smaller version of the one I took to Munich, a single column of seats, three deep, along each side. Rachel sits on the floor of the aisle. I run to her, touching her head, making sure she is all right. Seeing me, she smiles. “Ma…”

“Yes, darling, it’s Mama.” Hurriedly, I pick her up. I turn toward the doorway, but Simon and Dava are blocking my way. “Sit down, Marta,” Simon orders.

“But…”

“You’re coming with us. I hadn’t planned it this way. But you’ve interfered, complicated things like you always do. You know too much. And I can’t leave a body behind on the tarmac.” The chocolates, I remember. He wasn’t just trying to drug me but to kill me. Thank goodness I had only taken a bite.

“But, Dmitri,” Dava interjects. “You don’t mean…?” I can hear the surprise and conflict in her voice. After all that she has done, can she really be concerned about killing me?

“He already tried to kill me once,” I inform her. I turn to Simon, whose eyes have gone wide. “I know the chocolates were poisoned.”

“You never said anything about killing Marta,” Dava says.

He turns to her angrily. “It’s none of your business.”

“But I didn’t think…”

The plane is going to take off soon, I think, while the two of them continue to argue. For a second I consider racing into the cockpit, pleading with the pilot for help. But he is surely working with the communists, too. I have to get out. There is a small gap between Simon’s back and the door frame. Clutching Rachel, I charge at it. “Oh, no you don’t,” Simon says, grabbing me and pulling us back.

Suddenly there is a noise at the door of the plane and Simon jerks backward. Standing behind Simon, grasping him in a chokehold, is Paul.

Paul! Relief floods through me. So he received my message after all. But then I see Simon reach for his waistband. “Watch out!” I yell as he yanks a knife from his belt. Rachel, hearing my distress, begins to cry. Paul pulls Simon backward out the door of the plane, away from the baby and me. Struggling violently for control of the knife, they tumble down the stairs of the airplane, landing in a heap at the bottom, Simon on top of Paul. Paul tries to get up, but Simon punches him, knocking him back to the ground. Paul is still weak from surgery. He cannot possibly overpower Simon now. Holding Rachel close to me, I start down the stairs.

Behind me there is a clicking sound. “Not so fast,” Dava says. I turn to see her pointing a gun at me. “Sit down.”

“Dava,” I say slowly. But her face is a stony mask now, her loyalties clear. As I stare at the gun, panic rises in me. I have to get Rachel out of the line of fire. “Don’t do this, Dava,” I say slowly, raising my hand. “We’re friends. You saved my life.”

“I know,” Dava replies. “And I don’t want to kill you. But he told me that in Moscow we can be together as a family, and you’re getting in the way of that.”

Suddenly I understand. “You love Simon, don’t you?” I ask, trying to make my voice gentle. Rachel, her sobs subsiding, watches Dava and me with interest. Out of the corner of my eye, I look through the door of the plane. Simon and Paul are still fighting on the ground, but I know that Paul cannot last much longer. I have to get out of here before Simon comes back. But Dava’s gun is still trained on Rachel and me. “How long have you felt this way?”

“Forever,” she replies sadly. “Years. Well before I met you. I knew Dmitri in Moscow before the war. I was going to have his baby once, too. But he made me get rid of it, said it would interfere with our work.” Her face hardens. “And I can’t have any more children now because of that.” I remember speculating with Rose about Dava’s past, how she had seemed so sad and resolute when I talked about starting a new life.