by Arno Baker
She let go and took a sip of her drink and then smiled,
“Oh yes, I have seen the film and this is not at all a honey trap. If you had been a target of that kind you would have been snapped a long time ago and it would not have been me doing it. No Jack, you are a nice man, and if I may say so, a very nice man! Since this operation is about to end and the mission is practically accomplished, our conversation is a purely friendly and simple expression of desire. Do you understand?”
Jack found those words both cynical and authentic or if they were not, a damn good imitation of both. Still he couldn‘t stop imagining himself in bed with Irina, and yet was convinced that she was simply reciting her part in a larger script, even though it worked to perfection and was a superb act to watch.
“My dear Irina, as much as I like you, I just don’t feel it’s ...the right time. With so much on my mind, maybe on your mind too. Let’s simply share a few thoughts. What do you think?”
She withdrew her hand obviously disappointed. Perhaps those two years with Feklisov had been too much even for a seasoned operative like her.
“Too bad because what I said was free of any second thoughts. We must leave tomorrow immediately after the press conference.”
“What do you mean?”
“The colonel and I will board a plane to Moscow at 3 pm. Our adventure is over. The mission, if I may use the expression, is accomplished!”
“But he was supposed…”
“There will be no statement, no questions and no interview; we got those orders a few days ago!”
“I see, but I wasn’t told any of this and we prepared a whole program of promotional appearances...”
“Look Jack, you were paid weren’t you? You can cancel all those efforts and wait for new instructions; that‘s the word from above.”
It dawned on him that Irina may have wanted a slice of the pie to herself or that there might be yet another agenda. She would jump in the sack with a gorilla if necessary. Russian case officers had suddenly become venal indeed! Gone were the days of the Rosenbergs and Klaus Fuchs.
“Why will the colonel refuse to speak?” he wanted to hear the full explanation directly from her. But again she withdrew into her seductive mood. She took another drink, then got up close to Jack and suddenly kissed him throwing her arms around his neck as if she were passionately in love. He reciprocated.
“All right, I will tell you but I must warn you not to use this publicly. The consequences would…well you know what they would be. Let‘s go to your hotel.”
He nodded and dropped a twenty mark bill on the table. Bahnhof Express Hotel wasn’t far and though Jack was still unconvinced he took Irina by the arm and they walked along the fairground for a few minutes until they reached the square in front of the station. Jack felt very unsettled; if he could forget Irina’s involvement in the SVR he would have had no second thoughts. She was like a ripe tropical fruit eager for something exciting. But the context held him back somewhat. It was mid afternoon and quite a few people were milling about the station and in the lobby of the hotel. Irina stopped at the desk and asked Jack,
“What’s your room number?”
“742”
She turned to the concierge,
“Please send up two bottles of mineral water and a bottle of Dom Perignon to 742.” Then she grabbed Jack’s hand and got into the elevator.
“This is very Russian.” She rubbed her body against his until they reached the floor. They first made love furiously, half dressed in a hysterical frenzy, she more than Jack seemed to be “into” what she was doing. The second time was more relaxed and they began talking afterwards.
“I’ve wanted you for a long time.”
“Really, but you came across as being so tough!”
“I am tough but I could feel you also wanted me but that you are much too shy.”
“Yes, I’m rather cautious about such things and I do live with someone, you know…”
“I know and you are a nice man and I haven’t met many nice men in my life.”
He looked at her long perfect legs and the whole picture that was just one delight after another except for those hard green eyes that were slightly slanted and could easily adopt a frightening expression.
“So it‘s been that hard?”
She lit a cigarette and exhaled a long column of smoke,
“It’s a tough job!”
“I can just imagine having to keep the old colonel in line.”
“Oh no, not him. He’s easy to handle, just a dirty old man, not a problem. It‘s the rest of that zoo on the inside. A jungle patrolled by killer apes. Russians don’t believe in innocence you know, they are convinced it is lost at birth no matter who you are.”
“But now that your mission is over…”
“Yes, it would be nice but not quite, I’m afraid…”
For some reason Jack knew that those cautionary words included him so he turned the main light on and looked at her carefully. She was breathtakingly beautiful and came up to him resting her black hair on his chest.
“What do you mean Irina?”
“I’m close to forty-five Jack, it‘s time for my final curtain call. It‘s only because of my experience and my body that I am still in operations. My career as a mature honey trap is over and I shall be shifting to another type of assignment.”
“How long have you…?”
“I was recruited at 19 and they could do what they wanted with me because of who I was…heredity in the USSR was definitely a crime you know.” Jack’s curiosity was now piqued,
“Heredity ? What does that have to do…?”
“A lot! I was born in March 1954. I am 46 now. Do you know who my mother was?”
“No, no idea?”
“Just telling you this now, even now, is a crime against the state!”
Jack jumped up and grabbed her pocketbook emptying the contents on the bed. A few of the usual things tumbled out: keys, lipstick, Kleenex, two condoms, a Montblanc fountain pen and pencil set, a passport but the bag was still heavy and he unzipped the inside pocket to slip out a Beretta 9mm with silencer and an extra clip of ammunition…he stopped and looked at Irina. She just sat there nude and smiling,
“No Jack, there are no listening devices, no bugs or tape recordings being made…the Center doesn‘t know we are in this room right now.”
He was perspiring and out of breath,
“Ok, so who the hell was your mother?”
“My mother was Dr. Vardo, the mistress of Lavrenti Beria. He was my father. I was conceived in June 1953 a few days before he was arrested. My mother took me to the prison where she was to spend several years of her life, then at age 8 I was sent off to a school for orphans until a doctor ‘discovered’ me. I mean he discovered at age 12 that I was beautiful and looked much older since I was into puberty. From then on I was trained and used as a honey trap and that’s what I am still doing now 34 years later!”
Jack found the whole story hard to believe.
“Irina this sounds so…”
“Crazy? Sure it does, I have had to do some rather disgusting things over time but I will not bore you with any of that. My latest protector was Yevgeny Primakov and fortunately for me he is also a very nice man when he is allowed to be.”
“So is this it? Tomorrow you walk out and we are through?”
“Possibly, but there is also a different scenario that is being considered as we speak: as you know the old KGB toughs are back in complete control. All the money they had exported for safety is safely back in their coffers again, but a heft slice of it remained abroad…and they are running the country under a new flag. It‘s all about power. Ideas are out the window: Russian nationalism and hard cash. All this business about past spies, like the Rosenbergs, is a distraction. The reformers thought transparency would buy Russia goodwill at very little cost by making her look “democratic”. The new faces think that appearing transparent may create doubts and that‘s precisely what they don�
��t want. The SVR needs to reassure its agents that they will be protected, at all costs, or almost. This being said they couldn‘t care less about the Rosenbergs, Morton Sobell and company, and between us, they never did.
Feklisov and I will be flying out tomorrow in the middle of the press conference. He will read a short prepared statement and take no questions. I will provide a few cryptic answers and then you, Jack, will be the one doing the talking as the colonel and I walk out of the room, theatrically.”
Jack was getting angry,
“So, I see, well then I would like you to tell me why a man like Sylvain Michaud suddenly must die in very suspicious circumstances in Paris?”
“Michaud? Who in the devil is he? I have never heard of him!” He looked at her, wondering if she was putting on an act of false indignation. But no, she sounded genuinely surprised. She clearly wasn’t on that distribution list.
“So I suppose you have never heard of Lucien Barnave, either?”
“No. Never.”
Again, Irina looked genuinely surprised. He was confused and wanted to insist,
“So why refuse the interview?”
She got close to him and wanted to make love and he immediately obliged. By now he‘d decided that she was indeed irresistible,
“As I explained, my dearest Jack, the political line has suddenly changed and Feklisov is a good soldier. He also wants to keep his pension, you understand? I also intend to earn mine, in full!”
Jack knew he would see her again,
“And after Moscow what do you do?”
“I shouldn’t tell you this now but…they gave you over 2 million dollars besides the money for the documentary, right? Well half that money will be channeled to certain web based advertising agencies. Then you shall receive specific instructions about how you will expand your company. It will be obvious that you will need an experienced interpreter and translator and you will obtain a 3 year working visa for one Irina Orlova your new employee and I shall appear in New York.”
Jack couldn‘t hide his total amazement as he sat on the bed. She went on,
“They know you talked to the FBI, CIA and IRS, they expected you would as any good American citizen. The problem is that now it will be hard for you to do so without suffering the consequences. In other words if you play ball and feed the FBI the data I give you all will be well. You shall become a very rich man in less than five years.”
She got up took a shower then as she got dressed and put her things back in her purse she took the Montblanc pen and twisted the cap off delicately showing Jack a listening device.
“Don’t worry, I had turned it off.”
Feklisov read his statement sitting down as he played the role of the old man nearing the end of his rope. Irina in her strict dark blue suit translated into the King’s English and then announced that the colonel would take no questions and that she would offer whatever answers she could. The old spy sat there looking on with supreme indifference as though he were already thousands of miles away. Irina after a series of short non-answers then said:
“And now I shall leave the floor to Mr. Jack Harrison the American publisher of the colonel’s book. He has the background information to answer all your questions. Thank you.”
The reporters were furious and the whole thing sounded like a sham and they were beginning to mumble as much out loud. So Jack attempted to make the most of the situation,
“Ladies and Gentlemen, fellow colleagues, as you have heard Colonel Feklisov will not take questions so I shall be answering as his American publisher.”
The first question was the one everyone wanted to ask,
“Does Russia now acknowledge that the Rosenbergs were Soviet agents?”
“Colonel Feklisov has said so in his memoir and on film. He doesn‘t speak for the Russian government, however.”
“Why will Russia not come out openly and admit the facts after sixty years?”
“The answer to that question remains open. I have no explanation.”
“Will Colonel Feklisov agree to an interview once he is back in Moscow?”
Feklisov and Irina whispered to one another. Irina gave Jack a smile and whispered “Good-bye”. Then they both got up and left the room without another word. Their mission was over. Upon their arrival in Moscow, Irina took a separate car and never saw the colonel again. An SVR driver took Feklisov back to his apartment where he found Natasha waiting for him. She had asked to return to the old man. The SVR agreed. He had been secretly promoted to the rank of general with full retroactive pension.
A few days after that disastrous press conference an international courier service delivered a 40 pound box to Belmont Books. The return address was Enghien-les-Bains but no street or sender’s name was specified. Jack was curious since it coincided with his return from Frankfurt almost to the day. Inside he found the photocopy of the complete set of Barnave’s notebooks with a detailed catalog of each one prepared by his son Sylvain. There was also a cover letter,
“Do not be surprised. Before you even came to visit my apartment I had prepared this box for delivery and left it with my old friend the pharmacist in Enghien-les-Bains to be shipped within a few days so it would reach your office upon your return and not before. I am taking the precaution of saving these historical documents now that their existence has finally been revealed and therefore, very seriously threatened as I am no doubt.
I have added a catalogue raisonné of the contents and have numbered each one of the notebooks. It may take a few years to fully understand the value of what they contain but I trust that you shall make sure that time is well spent. The French government could still be so embarrassed that it could fall if these notes are published one day!
As for myself, what can I say? With only half a body left, and several espionage agencies on my back, real time is undoubtedly measured in days and perhaps even hours. So by elimination you have become the keeper of the keys. Be careful....”
Irina did eventually come to New York but it was to be a very short stay, the money laundering operation she was to supervise was uncovered by the FBI within weeks. U.S. Authorities preferred to declare her persona non grata and she was duly accompanied back to the airport.
Belmont Books had to surrender most of the money it had received but was allowed to stay in business after paying a few symbolic penalties. The book was moderately successful.
But the final word came in stages a few years later: in 2007 Alexander Feklisov died and left instructions that his royalties were to be sent to Natasha. In 2008 Ruth Greenglass died and because of her passing the 1950 sealed grand jury testimony could be open to the scrutiny of scholars and researchers. Those pages contained the true story of the Rosenberg Spy Case as it was known on the American side since the beginning but that the Soviets and the Russian successors preferred to keep secret. Finally in September 2008, Morton Sobell at the age of 91, admitted to having been an active member of the Rosenberg network. He could no longer deny the facts as the grand jury had heard them 58 years before. His admission erased any doubts still held by the small minority that still denied any possible guilt by Julius and Ethel Rosenberg as well as Morton Sobell.
That admission signaled the closure of the ‘Kalistrat’ file. Yet no one in the SVR archives bothered to change the large L that remains penned in fading red ink on the cover of the top secret Rosenberg file simply because there was no reason to do so. The Director preferred to keep the file open because there were other potential secrets that were expected to surface in the near future.
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Copyright © 2010 by Enigma Books
First U.S. Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
eISBN : 978-1-936-27416-1
Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication available upon request.
