The Other Side of Silence [antikvár]

The snow lay thick on the steps and the snowflakes driven by the wind looked black in the headlights of the cars. There had been no snow when he went inside although the clouds had hung black and ominous over the square. But there was no point in complaining about snow in Moscow in November. He turned round to look back at the lights in the building. The KGB man standing in the entrance hall was still watching him. He turned up his coat collar and looked up at the sky. The Red Flag still fluttered on its pole in the yellow light from the floodlight at the comer of the roof. Despite his irritation he recognized that the blood-red flag with its hammer and sickle was romantic. It had a beauty and majesty that was undeniable. It gave him the same feeling he got when they sang 'Land of Hope and Glory' at the last night of the Proms. You didn't need to agree with what it represented. It just moved your heart and made you think for a moment of mankind in general. Number 4 Old Square was the offices of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. Not to be confused with the building next door which housed the Moscow Regional and Moscow City Committees of the Communist Party. They were so stupid with their po-faces and their suspicious eyes. All he had asked for was a ball-park figure for Party members as a percentage of the total population. But after three different officials and an hour and a half of waffling they had blandly stuck to their story that they didn't know. He pointed out that Brezhnev himself had announced in public only a year ago that it was six per cent. All