It was late, it was dark, and Yuri would not be easily persuaded. "I think that I should refer your concerns to my superiors in Moskva," he whispered. "They can talk to the Army and confirm that everything is alright."
Irina stood at the front of the little Komitet office building. In larger towns the building would be openly guarded and lit well thru the night. But with little to do but quell most news stories and refuse travel requests, Yuri could happily leave his office every evening and allow the caretaker and her husband to lock up the building and go home.
"That is not what I want to do," she hissed. "They would make my uncle disappear and we would never hear from him again." Irina was getting very cold. She had left her mother's cabin quietly and met Yuri in the side street. "I can't tell you everything I know, Yuri, but my uncle is behaving very strangely. He talks very sadly and laughs a lot, like a man who is going off to die. if he is unwell, I want to know. If he is planning something crazed, you will want to know."
He nodded sympathetically. "But Irina. You cannot just follow military units around the Soviet Union by sitting in the back of a train. If it was that easy, the Americans would do it all the time."
"Of course," she snapped. "That is why I need proper travel documents. Officially authorized. and stamped." Irina pointed impatiently at the doors again. "Please. Please go inside and get all the papers I need."
He laughed nervously at her moment of pomposity. "You are so funny, Irina. That is why I have always liked you." Her scowl cooled the sickly smile on his face. "I respect you. That has always been clear." He cleared his throat. "Let me see what I can do. But you will have to explain everything to your mother. That is not something that I could ever hope to do." He pulled a large bunch of keys from his pocket and headed to a side entrance.
:::
"You are not thinking straight, Yuri," she pleaded as they neared the station. "You can explain to my mother that I have gone up to the city on a junior assignment for a few days. She will not believe you, but she will play along. She always wants me to humor you. The people at the newspaper are of no concern. They will not even notice. I never brought them anything that they could print."
He put his arm on her shoulder and tried to sound wise which annoyed her even more. "What will you do when you get to the city? You will be robbed and raped and taken by foreigners as soon as you step off the train. I will look after you and talk to anyone official that asks you questions. You have been to Moskva, haven't you? There is someone asking questions on every street corner. I will get us thru that." He patted the woven pouch that contained his considerable bundle of papers and other credentials.
She groaned and stormed ahead of him. "Now there are two of us that Uncle Gregor will recognize. I can hide away in the back cars of the train with the other temporary workers. No-one will notice me with ordinary clothes. You will stand out with your hair and your face."
"My face?" he asked, stumbling after her.
She turned and faced him, frustrated. "You will be interested in everything that goes past you. If a soldier walks by with a button undone you will clear your throat. If the ticket inspector does not check the ticket of the man beside you, you will raise your eyebrows."
She turned to stalk away again, but he caught hold of her shoulder and made her stop, just in the entrance arch of the station. Torn motivational posters were barely visible behind her. "I did not realize you thought of me in any way. And I did not realize you would think of me in such bad terms."
:::
The station had once been very ornate, with grand light stands and painted murals. But time and weather and indifference had left the decoration faded and patchy and the lighting was non-existent.
They eventually reached the front of the little line of people shuffling thru the wooden gate to the northbound platform. The old ticket collector looked carefully at their travel dockets as he had done with everyone else.
"This just says Vladivostok, Comrades. You will each need an extra strip for the journey beyond Moskva. I cannot give you them at this station. What is the purpose of your journey?"
"You know me, Gyorgi. Comrade," said Yuri. The ticket collector blinked as he recognized first Yuri's face, then Irina's. "We had a good chat only yesterday evening," Yuri continued. "I am sorry I was harsh to you but you will recall we were able to resolve things very nicely." He beamed encouragingly.
"Yes," the old man nodded, his mind so obviously churning in the background. "My vodka and your cognac." He pointed his finger back and forth between Yuri and himself. "We understand each other." He paused, perhaps contemplating the previous night's drinking, perhaps steadying himself from the lingering effects. "You should go to the station master's office in Moskva. She will fix your documents. But if there is any trouble on the train, it is still possible that you will be detained." He shrugged sadly.
"Thank you for your advice," Yuri replied. "It is valuable. When is the next train due? I think maybe four o'clock?"
"Yes. If you are lucky, then it will be here at just after four in the morning. You should be in Moskva by lunch-time. If not, it may be nearer five. Or even six."
"Have there been delays?" Yuri scowled. He looked back to Irina. She blinked without understanding.
"Some of the work parties have been a little behind with their repairs," said Gyorgi delicately. "The Army had to take care of them. You know? The Comrade Colonel's men. Make some things clear to the other prisoners." A darkness clouded the edge of his wrinkled eyes.