understood.
“Excuse me,” said Marchuk. “Seaman Renko, this isFleet Electrical Engineer Hess. I have asked Comrade Hess to contribute his able mind to our meeting tonight. Explain to him and to me how you can disagree about the facts and agree with the conclusion.”
The
Polar Star
hadn’t seen the fleet in six weeks and wouldn’t see it again for another four. Arkady wondered where Hess had been hiding, but he concentrated on the question at hand.
“Zina Patiashvili died the night of the dance,” Arkady said. “Since she was not seen belowdecks on her way to her cabin, she probably went either to some other compartment in the aft house or, as the third mate says, onto the stern deck. However, when people faint they drop, they do not take a running start so that they can flip over a rail that would have come up to Zina’s ribs. There are marks characteristic of drowning, none of them present with Zina, and when they open her lungs in Vladivostok they’ll find no salt water. The characteristic marks present on the body—the lividity on the forearms, calves, breasts and belly—result only
after
death, from being on all fours for a period of time, and the bruises on the ribs and hips come not from resting against a rail but from being packed viciously against hard protuberances. She was killed on the
Polar Star
and stowed on board. As for the puncture of the belly, it was done with the single stab of a sharp knife. There were no scratches or sawing, and there was little bleeding. The facts are that before being thrown over she was stabbed to prevent her from floating to the surface. Another proof that the cut was not made by a net bringing her up was that she was thirty fathoms down on the sea bottom, long enough for slime eels to penetrate the puncture wound, enter her and nest in her.”
“There’s nothing in your report about eels,” Marchuk said to Slava. Fishermen hated slime eels.
“More?” Arkady asked.
“Please.”
“Her co-workers state that Zina Patiashvili was aceaseless toiler, yet the Americans say she appeared at the stern rail every time, day or night, that the catcher boat
Eagle
delivered a net. Often that coincided with Zina’s watch, which meant that she dropped her work whenever she cared to and was gone for half an hour at a time.”
“You say Soviets lie and Americans tell the truth?” Volovoi asked as if uncertain about a distinction.
“No. Zina spent the dance in the company of the Americans from the
Eagle
, dancing with them and talking to them. I do not think a woman runs to a stern rail in the middle of the night or in the rain to wave to a boatful of men; she runs to wave to one man. The Americans are certainly lying about who that might be.”
“You mean one of our boys was jealous?” Marchuk asked.
“That would be slander,” Volovoi stated, as if this disposed of the question. “Of course, if there were derelictions in the galley, if any worker gave less than her full time, there will be a stern rebuke.”
“Water?” Marchuk lifted a bottle to Volovoi.
“Please.”
Bubbles danced in the Invalid’s glass. There was an ominous curve to Marchuk’s smile, but the words would stay Soviet, level and businesslike.
“The problem,” Marchuk defined it, “is the Americans. They will watch to see whether we conduct an open and forthright investigation.”
“We will,” Volovoi said. “In Vladivostok.”
“Naturally,” Marchuk said. “However, this is a unique situation and may require a more immediate effort.” He offered the Invalid a cigarette. All this was still within the bounds of Soviet discussion. Sometimes there were immediate crises, such as at the end of each month when the quota could be fulfilled only by turning out cars with three wheels. The equivalent on a fishing boat wasto meet the tonnage quota by turning the entire catch, foul or fresh, into fish meal.
“The doctor agreed with Comrade Bukovsky,” Volovoi pointed out.
“The
“Excuse me,” said Marchuk. “Seaman Renko, this isFleet Electrical Engineer Hess. I have asked Comrade Hess to contribute his able mind to our meeting tonight. Explain to him and to me how you can disagree about the facts and agree with the conclusion.”
The
Polar Star
hadn’t seen the fleet in six weeks and wouldn’t see it again for another four. Arkady wondered where Hess had been hiding, but he concentrated on the question at hand.
“Zina Patiashvili died the night of the dance,” Arkady said. “Since she was not seen belowdecks on her way to her cabin, she probably went either to some other compartment in the aft house or, as the third mate says, onto the stern deck. However, when people faint they drop, they do not take a running start so that they can flip over a rail that would have come up to Zina’s ribs. There are marks characteristic of drowning, none of them present with Zina, and when they open her lungs in Vladivostok they’ll find no salt water. The characteristic marks present on the body—the lividity on the forearms, calves, breasts and belly—result only
after
death, from being on all fours for a period of time, and the bruises on the ribs and hips come not from resting against a rail but from being packed viciously against hard protuberances. She was killed on the
Polar Star
and stowed on board. As for the puncture of the belly, it was done with the single stab of a sharp knife. There were no scratches or sawing, and there was little bleeding. The facts are that before being thrown over she was stabbed to prevent her from floating to the surface. Another proof that the cut was not made by a net bringing her up was that she was thirty fathoms down on the sea bottom, long enough for slime eels to penetrate the puncture wound, enter her and nest in her.”
“There’s nothing in your report about eels,” Marchuk said to Slava. Fishermen hated slime eels.
“More?” Arkady asked.
“Please.”
“Her co-workers state that Zina Patiashvili was aceaseless toiler, yet the Americans say she appeared at the stern rail every time, day or night, that the catcher boat
Eagle
delivered a net. Often that coincided with Zina’s watch, which meant that she dropped her work whenever she cared to and was gone for half an hour at a time.”
“You say Soviets lie and Americans tell the truth?” Volovoi asked as if uncertain about a distinction.
“No. Zina spent the dance in the company of the Americans from the
Eagle
, dancing with them and talking to them. I do not think a woman runs to a stern rail in the middle of the night or in the rain to wave to a boatful of men; she runs to wave to one man. The Americans are certainly lying about who that might be.”
“You mean one of our boys was jealous?” Marchuk asked.
“That would be slander,” Volovoi stated, as if this disposed of the question. “Of course, if there were derelictions in the galley, if any worker gave less than her full time, there will be a stern rebuke.”
“Water?” Marchuk lifted a bottle to Volovoi.
“Please.”
Bubbles danced in the Invalid’s glass. There was an ominous curve to Marchuk’s smile, but the words would stay Soviet, level and businesslike.
“The problem,” Marchuk defined it, “is the Americans. They will watch to see whether we conduct an open and forthright investigation.”
“We will,” Volovoi said. “In Vladivostok.”
“Naturally,” Marchuk said. “However, this is a unique situation and may require a more immediate effort.” He offered the Invalid a cigarette. All this was still within the bounds of Soviet discussion. Sometimes there were immediate crises, such as at the end of each month when the quota could be fulfilled only by turning out cars with three wheels. The equivalent on a fishing boat wasto meet the tonnage quota by turning the entire catch, foul or fresh, into fish meal.
“The doctor agreed with Comrade Bukovsky,” Volovoi pointed out.
“The
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