15. Press Conference
Three days later I was already standing outside the door of Victor’s apartment—exhausted, thin, but clean-shaven. Victor opened the door and gasped: — Oh, Lord, where have you come from? What happened? Where have you been? All Moscow is in an uproar; everyone knows you’ve been taken, but there hasn’t been any word from you. Zina called two days ago, asking about you. — What’s with Zina? I asked. — They were taken off beyond Chita; now they are home. — Victor, I want to eat. I haven’t eaten for almost a week. — I can see that. Just a moment, I’ll be quick. I took a shower, drank a glass of kefir and a glass of hot tea, and then told Victor everything in detail. Victor listened silently and shook his head. — Well, you’ve really done it now. You’ve got the KGB from Vladivostok to Moscow up in arms. Now some people will have their stars knocked off their shoulder boards, — said Victor. — Well, and what are you thinking of doing now? — We have to see this through to the end; we need to organize a press conference and tell everything. — It’s too late to phone today; we’ll get to that first thing in the morning. We talked until late. In the morning I woke up early; I had to prepare a statement for the press. I went to the balcony door, glanced down, and saw familiar faces I wish I’d never have to see. One of them was sitting on a bench by the entrance to the building, his eyes fixed on the doors. Several other people were pretending to stroll. Not far off, in the parking area, stood a KGB car. I called Victor over. Victor looked down, understood everything without a word, and said: — We need to organize the press conference as quickly as possible. I’ll take the key and go phone the correspondents from a payphone; I’ll also call the embassy. Don’t open the door to anyone — they may try to pull you out of here. In all likelihood, my apartment is under operational surveillance. Half an hour later Victor returned. — The correspondents can only come in two days. Tomorrow’s entire schedule is packed. We have to hold out for two days. The house is surrounded on all sides. What I’m most afraid of is that they could get a local precinct officer, find some pretext to enter the apartment, and extract you from here. Let’s do this: for these two days we won’t leave the apartment and we’ll let no one in, and if they try to break in, we’ll barricade the door. For those two days our nerves were stretched like a wire; it was very unpleasant to see the KGB agents circling the house, day and night. When the correspondents began arriving for the press conference at Victor’s and parking their cars in the lot next to the KGB car, those agents started scurrying like thieves caught before they could steal. They all jumped into the car and drove off. The correspondents came in cheerful, noisy, free, and because of that the weight of unfreedom pressed even heavier on my mind, giving me still more resolve to fight the Communist dictatorship. The press conference began. I told about the events that had taken place in Nakhodka over the last few months, about the new persecutions. At that moment the doorbell rang. But we were no longer expecting anyone. Victor went to find out who had come. Returning, he said that supposedly two correspondents from “Evening Moscow” had arrived, whom neither he nor anyone else had invited. — And how did they find out about this? someone asked. Apparently the KGB sent them. Having consulted, all decided that the correspondents from “Evening Moscow” had nothing to do at this press conference. Victor went out and asked: — How did you find out there would be a press conference here? They exchanged glances and said nothing. Then Victor said: — In any case, you won’t write in your newspaper what you hear here; you’ll write what you’re told by those who sent you. We aren’t production front-runners or shock workers of communist labor; we don’t produce extra-plan coal by the ton, and that’s all you’re free to write about—and even then only about those you’re pointed toward. So — excuse us. And they left, and the press conference continued. There were many questions, and then we all drank tea. I was worried about my wife and decided to fly home that same day. Victor and two other dissidents saw me off to the airport and waited until I boarded the plane to make sure everything was all right. I arrived home safely.
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