Westlake, Donald E - Novel 51 by Humans (v1.1) Read Free Book Online

Miss Susan Carrigan, from New York City ,” both Mikhails said, except that the KGB
man left out “Miss.”
                “She won Moscow in a contest.” Mikhail the economist smiled
with amusement, while Mikhail the KGB man smiled as though angry, obscurely
insulted.
                “A visit to Moscow ,” Susan corrected, smiling at this new Russian man, holding her hand
out to shake. His hand, when he took hers, was surprisingly thin and bony, and
the grip tentative. He looked as though he might be suffering from flu or
something, as though it might have been a mistake for him to get out of his
sickbed to come to the party.
                “Grigor Basmyonov,” both Mikhails
finished the introduction. “Grigor works for our Moscow television.”
                “Oh, really?” Susan released
Grigor’s frail hand, and accepted her fresh glass of wine from Mikhail. “What
do you do there?”
                “I write jokes for a comedian,”
Grigor told her, the words coming slowly, one at a time. Shaking his head, he
said, “Not a comedian you have heard of.”
                “I might have,” Jack Fielding said,
and stuck his hand out, saying, “Jack Fielding. I’m with the embassy here, we
watch TV a lot, believe me. Who’s your comedian?”
                Shaking Fielding’s hand, Grigor
said, “Boris Boris,” and was pleased at the grunt of unhappy surprise from
Mikhail the KGB man. (Mikhail the economist gave a chuckle of remembered
pleasure.)
                Fielding was impressed: “No kidding!
He’s an outrageous man, your guy.”
                “Yes, he is,” Grigor agreed,
relaxing, basking in Boris Boris’s glory.
                “Just a few years ago, say what he
says now,” Fielding added, shaking his head, “and he’d go straight to Siberia .”
                “Well, at least he’d have me with
him,” Grigor assured the American. “If Boris Boris catches cold, I sneeze.” And then he was astonished at
how easily English was coming to him, once he had himself started. So it might
be possible after all.
                “I tried looking at television
here,” Susan said, “but it was so frustrating. It looks like TV at home, the news shows and the exercise shows and
the game shows, but of course I don’t understand a word anybody says. And when
they put some kind of notice on, I don’t even know the letters !” And she laughed at her own helplessness.
                “I have seen your American
television, of course,” Grigor told her. He liked the way she looked, and the
ease of her self-assurance; she made him want to keep the conversation going,
no matter how difficult. cc We receive the satellite transmissions at
the station. Sometimes I watch the CNN news. Do you know the program?”
                “Oh, sure,” Susan said, “Cable news.
It must look very different from your point of view.”
                “Such positivism,” Grigor told her,
smiling, hoping that was a word in English. “The announcers are so certain
about everything. We haven’t had anyone that certain about everything since
Stalin died.”
                Susan laughed, surprised to be
laughing, and said, “Is that one of your jokes for whatsisname?”
                “Beg pardon?”
                “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, and as
she gave him a rough definition of “whatsisname,” economist Mikhail gendy
turned Jack Fielding away, saying, “Now, about this free market of yours.
Surely, with Japan breathing down your necks, you don’t advocate a return to hill
laissez-faire.” (Simultaneously, the other Mikhail said toward Fielding, “I got
to talk wid you about dis embassy of yours. We still got some problems to work
out.”)
                “Well, you know, we all have to
adapt to changing reality,” said