white to reflect the light. ‘I will want to take one film of all the eggs together,’ she warned.
Allie took a loose-leaf binder from her document case and showed Professor Martos the outline that she envisaged for the CD-ROM. ‘We’ll need a wide shot of all the eggs so that people can click on to the one they want to go to,’ she explained.
‘It will have to be done at night, or when the museum is closed,’ he told her.
They were discussing arrangements when footsteps sounded in the empty gallery. Allie thought it was the tourists entering for the next visiting period, but when she glanced round she saw only one man—Sergei Morozov.
He shook hands first with the professor and then with her, holding her hand longer than was necessary as he told the professor how they had already met. ‘You have already seen round the museum? That is a shame; I had promised myself that pleasure. As you’ve already seen the Armoury perhaps you would let me show you round some other museums instead?’
Allie sensed that the professor wasn’t too happy about having Sergei hanging around, so she said, ‘Having seen these wonderful eggs, it looks as if I’m going to be very busy, but perhaps I could give you a ring when I have some free time.’
‘“Give me a...?” Oh, you mean call, telephone. I understand. But it will be easier for me to call your hotel, I think.’ He turned to the professor, said something in Russian to which the older man shook his head, then glanced at his watch and said a time. One o’clock. The phrase was easy enough for Allie to understand it.
When he’d gone they finalised arrangements for the day on which all the eggs were to be photographed together, everyone agreeing that early the following Sunday morning would be best. An hour or so later Allie left the museum, walking out of its cool atmosphere into the midday heat. She paused to put on her dark glasses and wasn’t at all surprised to see Sergei leaning on the railing outside, waiting for her.
Straightening, he came forward and said with an easy smile, ‘I remembered that I have to go to a very famous monastery not far from Moscow this afternoon. To check on the building, you understand. And I thought, on such a beautiful day, what could be better than to show this most beautiful place to our most beautiful tourist?’
Allie wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Sergei, that is the corniest line I ever heard.’
He laughed. ‘But it is what they say in the movies all the time.’
‘You must watch some very old movies.’
He laughed again, not in the least put out. ‘But you will come with me, yes?’
‘Where is this place?’
‘At Zagorsk. It is the biggest monastery in Russia as well as being the most beautiful. Everyone goes there. You must not miss it.’
She had heard of the place, of course, not only from her reading about Russia in preparation for this trip, but in tales told long ago. And she’d had every intention of going there, so if Sergei wanted to take her—well, why not? ‘Sure. I’d like to.’
Rewarding her decision with a delighted smile, Sergei led her out of the Kremlin, saying, ‘My car is just a short distance away.’
As they walked along, the sun rippling on the surface of the River Moskva on their left, Allie remembered Drake’s warning about getting too friendly. She smiled inwardly, quietly confident of her ability to handle Sergei if the need arose. But then the forcefulness in Drake’s voice came back to her; maybe it wouldn’t do any harm to be cautious. So when they reached Sergei’s car, a well-polished but old German model, she said, ‘I’ll have to go back to my hotel first; I can’t visit a monastery dressed like this.’
He tried to demur but she insisted, and while in her room she wrote down where she was going and with whom, leaving the note with the receptionist to give to Drake if he should ask for her.
As it turned out the precaution was completely unnecessary. Sergei drove the seventy kilometres or so to Zagorsk, telling her something of his life in Russia but far more interested in life in London.
‘Haven’t you ever been there?’ she asked him.
‘For one week only, to study the architecture. It rained all the time.’
Allie laughed. ‘It does tend to do that.’
‘But I have been to America,’ Sergei told her. ‘Now that is an amazing country. I studied English and architecture there for nearly two years.’
‘I thought your English had an American accent.’
‘It does? I did not realise that.’
The monastery was everything Sergei had promised. Its buildings covered a vast area and it came complete with onion domes in gold, and brilliant blue encrusted with gold stars, with towers and steeples, with an uncountable number of religious buildings, and even a museum full of beautiful icons.
Being with Sergei was definitely a help; where the way into a church was barred to ordinary tourists, he merely spoke a few words to the robed and bearded priest who guarded the entrance and they were allowed inside. Allie had changed into an ankle-length skirt and a long-sleeved blouse back at the hotel and had covered her hair with a lightweight scarf as they’d entered the monastery, so she didn’t stand out too much from the crowds of worshippers who packed all the shrines and churches. All of these were breathtaking; richly adorned, their walls of painted icons, most of them overlaid in gold or silver, reflected the sunlight. There were no seats inside these holy places; in the Russian orthodox church everyone stood, murmuring their prayers.
Her only regret was that she wasn’t alone, but without Sergei she probably wouldn’t have been allowed inside these sacred places. He stood quite close beside her, but Allie shut her eyes and tried to forget him, to lose herself in the atmosphere of veneration around her. It must have been like this for hundreds of years, she thought, for all the ancestors who had lived in Russia so long ago. They must have stood in churches just like this, prayed as these people were praying, worshipped in exactly the same way. She tried to feel as they must have felt, but it was all too strange, too alien to her upbringing, to the modern western woman that she had become.
Outside again, they wandered around.
‘Didn’t you come here to do some work?’ Allie asked after a while.
Sergei gave her a bland smile. ‘But that is what I’m doing as we walk around.’
Allie laughed as she was meant to. ‘It’s very kind of you to show me round like this, but I wouldn’t want you to neglect your work.’
‘It’s my pleasure. But you have seen very little as yet. There is much of Moscow still to see.’ He hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘And you must try some typical Russian food. Perhaps you would let me take you to a restaurant I know tonight?’
‘How nice of you to ask me, but Drake Marsden has already invited me out.’
‘That’s a great shame. Perhaps—’
‘Some other time? Of course. Although I’m going to be rather busy with my work, of course. Oh, look at that amazing tower!’ she exclaimed as they turned a corner. ‘How old is it, do you know?’
Her ploy to change
