‘Love has got a lot to answer for,’ said Alain, ‘because I knew within days of meeting Natasha that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, whatever the consequences.’
‘But the only time we could see each other was at international meets,’ said Natasha, ‘and even then, we often ended up only snatching a few precious moments together. But when Alain visited Moscow with the French team last year, he took me to the Bolshoi ballet and proposed during the interval.’ She held up her left hand to show Artemisia her engagement ring.
‘We never got to see the Black Swan,’ said Alain, with an infectious grin.
‘On your left,’ the guide was saying, ‘is the basketball arena, which holds twelve thousand spectators and, surprise, surprise, the Americans won gold yet again.’
A few raucous jeers and cheers greeted this information.
‘We both began to train even harder,’ said Alain, ‘to make sure we continued to be selected for our national teams. But I’m afraid that can’t go on for much longer. I’m twenty-eight and coming to the end of my career, and in Natasha’s case, it’s a totally different problem, as she’s having to deal with—’
‘State-sponsored drugs,’ said Natasha, completing Alain’s sentence.
Alain took Natasha’s hand once again, but it was still some time before she spoke again. ‘About a year ago, I was approached by a man called Grigory Rodchenkov, the director of the anti-doping laboratory, a misnomer only our government could believe would fool anyone. Rodchenkov told me that over half the national team are now on drugs, and if I hoped to be selected for the Olympic squad, I would have to sign up for his programme.’
‘And did you?’ asked Artemisia quietly.
‘No, I did not,’ said Natasha firmly. ‘My father is a doctor and my mother was a nurse, and they had both warned me from an early age about the long-term consequences should I decide to travel down that particular road.’
‘But you still made it onto the Russian team,’ Artemisia reminded her.
‘Only by a centimetre,’ said Natasha. ‘During the past couple of years, both of my main rivals, who I used to beat regularly, were suddenly producing personal bests, while I only just managed to squeeze third place in the Olympic trials. So this will be my last Games, and any hope of winninga medal has long gone.’ She hesitated, squeezing Alain’s hand tightly. ‘I’ve decided that the time has come to speak out, not least because I promised my father I would do so if the opportunity arose.’
‘And frankly,’ said Alain, ‘we thought you might give us the chance to expose what the Russians are getting away with behind everyone’s back, and allow athletes like Natasha to fulfil their dream and end their careers on the podium being awarded a medal, not in the changing room, packing their bags.’
‘You’ll have to help me,’ said Artemisia. ‘I’m a layman in these matters, so I can’t begin to understand how it works.’
Natasha remained silent while the tour guide described the ExCel centre, where the judo, wrestling, boxing and weightlifting had been taking place.
‘Not to mention the fencing,’ said Artemisia, touching Annie’s pass, which still hung around her neck.
Natasha smiled, but only briefly. ‘In Moscow, there is a state-funded programme that administers drugs to over a thousand athletes in every Olympic sport, from weightlifting to synchronized swimming. However, the largest number of athletes involved are in the track and field team.’
‘But I thought there were checks in place after each event?’ said Artemisia. ‘So why aren’t they caught?’
‘Because Grigory Rodchenkov has invented a steroid cocktail, known as a Duchess, that if taken six weeks before any major competition, can mask any drug-taking.’
‘And he’s the director of theanti-doping laboratory?’ said Artemisia, trying not to sound incredulous.
‘Yes, and he sits in the stand watching the Games every day, and is the first on his feet applauding every time a Russian wins a medal.’
‘So how does this Duchess cocktail work?’ asked Artemisia.
‘You dissolve steroids in alcohol,’ said Natasha. ‘Whisky for men, vermouth for women. You swill it around in your mouth and then spit it out. You don’t even have to swallow it. Then by the time you compete, you’re in the clear.’
‘That simple?’ said Artemisia.
‘That simple,’ repeated Natasha.
‘And in front of you,’ said the tour guide, ‘you can see the London Aquatics Centre. This is where Michael Phelps won six Olympic medals to add to his tally of sixteen, making him the most decorated Olympian in history.’
Artemisia thought long and hard before she asked her next question, ‘But if I were to expose Rodchenkov,’ she said, ‘wouldn’t your life be in danger?’
‘Only if I go back to Russia,’ said Natasha, barely audible.
Artemisia looked at them both. ‘So you’ll join Alain in France when the Games are over?’
‘Before the Games are over,’ whispered Alain.
