|
Naturally, the emphasis on individual autonomy required corresponding investments in civil projects. The Kiev airport was a typical result of it. It became a monument to the Soviet way. Also, it ranked equally in style, comfort, and efficiency with any of the great airports of the world. In the deeper sense, though, nothing had really changed; not then; not now. Russia was still Russia, and the Cold War that had been an overbearing reality had prevented the victory that should have been felt in the country's struggle towards a new life that had even been achieved to some degree.
On the way to the gate Boris noticed an old woman, aimlessly moving through the crowd. "Babushka?" he inquired.
She was looking for the gate to Sverdlovsk. "...I am visiting my daughter's family there," she said with noticeable pride in her voice, and added, "My daughter has been promoted to an important position at the Hospital. She is a fine doctor, you know. I stay with them every year for the summer..."
"The flight to Sverdlovsk leaves over there," Boris explained, pointing to a sign in the distance that indicated gate 26. "I'll be on the flight myself," he said, and wished her a pleasant journey.
A long line of people had already queued up at the gate. Standing in line was not to Boris' liking, however, so he went on to the coffee shop to have a piece of hot apple pie, served with ice cream. He had learned this combination from an American businessman at this same coffee shop on a previous trip. He had come to love it. While eating his pie, he suddenly felt himself nudged from behind.
"Hey, comrade Mikheyev," a voice said.
He turned.
"Alexei, the king of the games! What a surprise! But isn't Kiev a bit out of your way? Aren't there more direct flights from Minsk? You're going to the base, aren't you?"
Alexei nodded. "I'm here because my flight out of Minsk was over-booked. I was in Moscow last week."
"In Moscow!"
"That's right! I was ordered to testify before the military security commission. That's Chernyakov's department!"
"My God! Not before Chernyakov himself?"
Alexei nodded and smiled.
"You mean you actually met the man?"
"He was interested to find out how closely the 'incident' had been kept secret. He never actually referred to it as an accident, or as a practice-launch, just like the commissar. He had referred to it as 'the incident.' Does that tell you anything?"
Boris shook his head.
"How long were you in Moscow?"
"My session had lasted for four days. I had come down with an Air Force cargo plane. You know, the commissar was also kind enough to give me four extra days for a visit home."
"Well, I'm certainly pleased to see you," Boris replied through a mouthful of pie. "If I hadn't been on leave myself, I would have missed playing games with you, or should I say, loosing games to you? How is Naya?"
"Oh, Naya is fine, she was happy to see me."
"By the way, did you tell Chernyakov what we thought about the new safety procedures. Did you tell them that they've got it all wrong?"
Alexei nodded again and grinned; "I did, Boris."
"Well...?"
"No! Not here, Boris. It's too crowded to talk..."
Boris pointed to the half-eaten pie. "...Want some?"
Alexei declined. Still he helped himself to Boris' coffee.
"Oh You! ...Ah, never mind," he mumbled to himself while Alexei burst out laughing.
Next Page
|| - page index -
|| - chapter index -
|| - Exit -
||
|
