Chapter 16
Masha
October, 1937
Up in the corner of the room, the bulb remained off. Masha’s eyes stared at it with a joyful expression, because it meant she still had time to finish her sandwich. With a mixture of meat, cheese, and some seasoning, she had really treated herself with this meal. Some sliced tomatoes on the side added to the texture in her mouth. She had to admit that, with the recent changes in national stability and the greater flow of movement, things were starting to return to some semblance of normality. Was the economy better? No, but at least trucks and shipments could move to and fro without fearing harassment from the Communists or the military.
“Masha,” came the voice of Ivan from the control room, “we go on in two minutes.” He held up two fingers for added emphasis.
Masha nodded. No matter. She was almost done with her sandwich, and Alexei had the script printed out and on her desk already. The man was sitting beside Ivan, resting his chin on his palm while his eyes stared forward as if he was in a trance. A cigarette rested between his middle and forefinger, the smoke rising gently in swirls about his head. Masha was fairly certain that this was the only cigarette he had smoked since she got into work this morning. Which, of course, meant it was going to be a good day for him.
“One minute,” Ivan called, holding up a solitary finger now.
Masha finished her last bite, even sneaking in one more tomato slice. As soon as she had swallowed she took a swig of the water glass beside her, trying to remove any crumbs that might be stuck on her teeth or tongue. As she put her headphones on and steadied her microphone, her tongue rolled around the inside of her mouth, rubbing against her teeth. Last thing she needed was a stray crumb or piece of bread to make her stumble.
Ivan held up five fingers. The thumb went down. Then the pinky. Then the ring finger. Then the middle finger. Then…
At last, the light flicked on.
“
Dobroye utro. This is Maria Stepanova for the Moscow service. Here is the news.”
She glanced down at the sheets before her.
“The Spanish Civil War is still continuing, even with three factions now involved. The Spanish Commune is finding itself having to fight a two-front war between the Nationalists to the northwest and the Republic to the southeast. Both the Nationalists and Republic seem to be pushing for Madrid, a city which has already switched hands many times over during the course of this war.”
She turned to the next page.
“Another civil war has broken out, this time in Mexico. A military junta, under the command of General Saturnino Cedillo, has organized a government in the northeastern section of the country. He has vowed to overthrow the government of President Lazaro Cardenas. The two had formerly worked together, with Cedillo as Cardenas’ minister of agriculture, but disagreement over land reform and other economic matters led to Cedillo’s resignation. He came to form a private army of his own, with backing from agricultural voices inside the country.”
She turned to the next page.
“In France, lawmakers are seeking to begin a revision of the constitution. Part of this revision, analysts say, is to make way for a repealing of the Law of Exile. The Law of Exile was a motion passed by the French government in 1886, banning the House of Orleans and Bonapartes from being in France. Some predict that this will lead to a monarchical revival in France. Critics say that the French government is attempting to resolve internal disputes by mimicking the popular move in Russia to restore the Romanov dynasty.”
Through the window, Masha could see Alexei lift his eyeglasses up to his forehead and rub and eyes. “Who wrote it that way? Who wrote it that way?” he began to mouth. “Some amateur producer! That presumes motive! Oh, I’m going to hear about that one…” He began to inhale his cigarette deep.
Meanwhile, Masha continued to read.
“Fighting continues in China, as Japan and her allies push into the mainland. Beijing has especially seen embittered fighting, as Japan has been attacking the city since the war started in May. Japanese casualties are believed to be at about 24,000 lost, while Chinese casualties are just over 330,000. Little ground has been gained by either side.”
She turned to the next page.
“And now, in more local news, further developments have been reported related to Russian industry. Construction equipment have been upgraded to keep in line with those available in other parts of Europe. Improved machine tools for factories are underway, as are machine tools used to excavate for natural resources. The Russian navy has also announced some improvements over the control systems on their ships.”
“That was your news at the top of the hour. We now turn to ‘Tale of the Head’ from Mikhail Glinka’s
Ruslan and Lyudmila. This is-”
Masha stopped short. Through the window was waving his hand and shaking his head frantically. Alexei was glancing from Ivan to Masha and back, his face turning pale.
“Oh, one moment.”
Alexei held up a record case, pointing to the cover. The words read
The Rite of Spring.
“Correction, we have a… selection from
The Rite of Spring by Igor Stravinsky. This is Masha Stepanova, with the Moscow service.”
The light flicked off. Alexei flew to his feet so quickly that Masha half-expected him to continue flying up through the ceiling. His eyes were bugging out through bottle cap lens as he stared at Ivan. “Who made that change?!”
“The producers did at the last minute.”
“Why wasn’t I told?!”
“I don’t think they like you.”
Alexei held the cigarette up to his mouth and gave a big inhale. The white turned to gray all the way up to his fingers. “Great, just great. And they’ll blame me for that little kerfuffle, I’m sure!”
“Who’s going to remember it? And the kid handled it well. We didn’t have dead air.”
Masha leaned forward on the table. “If you’re that worried, Alexei, you can blame me.”
Alexei glanced at Masha, staring at her for a moment. His lips pursed as he lifted his head and gazed to the side. Suddenly, Ivan swung his hand down against his side. “Don’t throw the kid under the bus over this!”
“Don’t hit me!” Alexei glanced down at his cigarette, and saw it was all done. It was promptly tossed into the ash tray with a light growl. “I need to buy some more. I’m going to need them after I hear about this…”
Masha giggled to herself as Alexei left the room. Ivan stood up and walked into the studio, a newspaper under his arm. “I thought you might be amused by this.”
“Oh? What?”
“Remember when we covered the trial of Yakov Yurovsky?”
Masha pursed her lips. How could she had forgotten it? The mountain of evidence against the man, the gruesome details of the murder of the Tsar’s family, the screams of Yurovsky’s wife, the climactic forgiveness from the Empress… it had been a day to remember for sure. Masha had become so entranced with the sequence of events that in the quieter moments she had to remind herself to say something to avoid the prevalence of dead air. “Yes, I do.”
“Apparently there were some American newspapers covering it. Someone working at the embassy in America sent us this.”
Ivan dropped the newspaper on the table before Masha. The girl saw that it was unrolled to a specific page. To her surprise, she saw a photograph of her and Ivan from the table they had sat at during the trial. Ivan was barely recognizable, since he was hunched over his equipment, checking some wires, his face half-covered. Masha, meanwhile, had been captured at one of her more professional moments: she sat with headphones around her curly blonde hair, her back erect, and her chest sticking out.
“Oh my,” Masha exclaimed. “I don’t read English, though. What does it say?”
“Oh yeah, they sent a translation. I took a look at it.” Ivan held up the paper and cleared his throat. “
Moscow Masha! This va-va-voom girl of the Volga is a local radio celebrity, and has covered every moment of the Anastasia saga since it’s first inception. Here she is covering the trial of Yakov Yurovsky, the Tsar’s executioner.”
Masha’s eyes rolled, and a grin curled over her lips. “Va-va-voom girl of the Volga? Really? My hair was a mess that day. Plus, I’m not a celebrity. What kind of rubbish is this?”
“Yeah it’s obviously sensationalist journalism. Not the dull, boring news we do. But hey…” He lowered the paper and gave a wink. “
Moscow Masha. Has a nice ring to it.”