The Russia House Page #5

If he says they can't hit Nevada on a clear

day, you better believe it. And be joyful.

Joyful? Most of our customers

come to this town with contracts

to bring peace and prosperity to

the arms industry for the next 50 years.

But how the f***

do you peddle an arms race

when the only a**hole you've got

to race against is yourself?

The night train to Leningrad.

I may have mentioned Mr Potomac Books,

my new American partner?

Well, he's doing Leningrad,

and he summoned me for a powwow.

- Powwow?

- I thought you knew English.

''Powwow'' is not English.

- You must sit down.

- Sit down? Why?

It is our custom before a long journey

first to sit down.

Well, I'm lying down. Won't that do?

Well,... you are supposed

to sit on your luggage

and sigh a little and cross yourself.

Hold everything.

OK.

I was more comfortable lying down.

Are you coming back to Moscow?

No, not this time.

I have to fly straight back to school.

School?

Work. England.

It's a stupid expression of mine.

I hope I didn't bore you last night.

You did not bore me.

Oh. Perhaps next time.

I'll make a special journey

just to talk about myself.

I wish you a good journey, Barley.

I'll miss you.

I want you to know something, Scott.

This little country is on the move.

I smell hope here.

I smell change. I smell commerce.

And we are buying ourselves a piece of it.

I'm proud. Proud.

0800 hours. Barley and Wicklow

are in Leningrad.

Checked in at the Pribaltiyskaya Hotel.

Good. We're on schedule.

Barley's got three chances

to make contact.

Now it's up to Dante.

You want to sell me something?

Cigarettes, Scotch, drugs, currency?

No, thanks. Cheerio.

You get lost?

That's a good idea. Why don't you try it?

One down, two to go.

Where are you, Dante?

Sir. Excuse me, sir,

but I think we are acquainted.

Good God! The great Dante,

as I live and breathe!

We met at that writer's party

at Peredelkino, remember?

The only two sober people there.

- How are you?

- I'm very well.

Welcome to Leningrad.

You can walk a little?

It is safest to keep moving.

Yes, they told me that.

Barley's made contact! He's done it.

Unfortunately, he couldn't find me.

So he gave it to our authorities.

People of... discretion. Experts.

You have betrayed me.

Nobody's betrayed you.

I told you. Your manuscript

went astray, that's all.

Our authorities admire your book.

But they need to know if it's true.

The best way would be

for you to talk with them.

You came to tell me

you refuse to publish me?

Dante, you're going too fast.

Russia has no time.

When the ice is thin,

you have to walk fast.

To lose time is to lose everything.

And then we all slide into the grave.

So be it. I will be the first corpse.

And Katya second. What about her?

She also chose.

If we act together,

we will survive together.

Have you forgotten

your words at Peredelkino?

I am not the man you thought I was.

You do not need to remind me that

man is not equal to his rhetoric.

Our new people talk about openness.

Disarmament. Peace.

Words.

You like graveyards, Barley?

Look. Here is ours if we fail.

Chose a monument.

Leave Katya out.

Go with the experts and leave her out.

I shall wish a book jacket that is only

letters. No sensational drawings. Yes?

Send the money to a deserving cause.

- Dante...

- What is the matter? Are you afraid?

Well, of course I'm bloody afraid!

Here... the Revolution started.

lmagine this place on that day when

the battleship Aurora fired that blank shot

which signalled the Revolution.

The next revolution shall begin with a few

gentle phrases of Johann Sebastian Bach.

Or maybe with some of the jazz

you play so beautifully.

Yes, a little Sidney Bechet.

It's time.

Da?

Got a present for you.

They asked me to give it to you.

It tells you how to get in touch with them.

I'll try to...

Have you learned nothing?

They are against you, and against me.

Those are not the decent people.

How the hell do you know

who the decent people are any more?

Come to England. Then you can

tell the world everything you want.

You are wearing grey today, Barley.

My father was sent to prison by grey men.

He was murdered by men

who wore grey uniforms.

Grey men ruined my beautiful profession,

and take care, or they will ruin you too.

Will you publish me?

Or must I start again for my search

for a decent human being?

No.

I'm with you.

I believe you're right.

I dropped another notebook into your bag.

Throw your friends a few bones.

Publish me.

Barley. Welcome back.

Nedski. Why aren't you working?

I'm the red carpet.

And the bunting, and the brass band.

Oh. You got the notebook.

- Good stuff, was it?

- The best. You're the hero of the hour.

You're a star.

Where's Walter? Off with the boy scouts?

Well, he's off the job, I'm afraid.

But he sends his love.

The fourth notebook

is a deal-breaker.

It's come-to-Jesus time for both sides

now, the hawks and the doves.

The Agency has gotta

get off the fence, Russell.

Only three weeks old,

and already a classic.

Feel the weight of all the expert opinions.

- Is there a conclusion?

- Clive, there is a conclusion.

Drop it down the toilet,

and your guy with it.

Ned?

- Is that what you think, Russell?

- What I think?

Well, expert opinion has it that

this notebook was written very quickly,

or very slowly, by a man or a woman,

in anger or in jest.

The writer was right- or left-handed.

He was a scientist and a non-scientist.

What I think?

For experts, there's no toilet deep enough.

Good for you, Russell.

The trouble is,

a lot of highly paid favourite sons

are in danger of having their

rice bowls broken and going hungry,

all on account

of these goddamn notebooks.

The Russian military effort is stalled,

the American military effort is stalled.

Their rocket motors suck instead of blow,

their lCBMs can't get out of their kennels,

their scientists can't do

solid fuel for sh*t...

Our customers don't like to hear that.

Jesus Christ. I have to come

all this way to tell you this?

And yet here you are.

And yet here I am.

Clive, Ned, I'll tell you something.

I am an honest-to-God glasnostic.

I was born a glasnostic. My parents

are old glasnostics from way back.

My children will be raised as glasnostics -

although I don't have any.

And I really believe that Dante

is a source from glasnost heaven.

I can't look away. He'll invade my sleep.

And for the rest of my f***ing life

I'll be hearing him say

''Russell, you had it in your hand.

Ned gave it to you.''

Honour is due, Ned.

- You won't regret it, Russell.

- You might.

We wanna meet your Mr Barley.

In the back room,

with the lights in his eyes.

Mr Blair,

you have all the attributes.

Generosity, wit, courtesy,

sang-froid, saxophone and reckless folly.

So... what in the hell takes you

to Russia every five minutes?

Are you, uh... buying property over there?

That's a fair question.

F*** whether it's a fair question.

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