He had to contact Langley about other things from last night, Blair knew, coming back to his uncertainty. Aistov’s appearance, after the crop disaster, was important. The sort of thing he would have considerd very important indeed, before Orlov. He wrote the message and encoded it and then sat where he was instead of taking it to the cipher room. This was stupid. No matter what the uproar when he shook the nest, he had to tell them. Not to do so – for fear of making himself look a fool – would be abandoning his expertise as an intelligence officer and he prided that expertise above all else.
It took him an hour to write and encode and he had the Orlov message transmitted first and then sat, waiting. The response came within a hour, which, considering the procedural channels at Langley was practically at the speed of light. He responded patiently that he couldn’t amplify because he had included everything in his first message and when they asked for interpretation he said that was impossible, glad he’d thought it through before the request came. Langley said a special desk was being established, inside the existing 24-hour Watch Room and that he was to communicate immediately after the meeting – if it occurred – took place. There was the injunction to take all possible care and to avoid anything which might lead to an incident embarrassing to the United States and then, as an apparent afterthought, Hubble personally signed a message wishing him good luck.
The two-way exchanges meant he missed lunch but Blair was too excited to eat anyway. He telephoned Ann to say he would be late home – probably very late – and that she wasn’t to wait dinner and to go to bed without him. She’d been in bed that morning when he’d left so he asked her how she was and she said OK and how was he and he said OK, anxious to get off the telephone. Ann appeared to sense it and ended the conversation.
Blair realised he would be behaving like an amateur if he didn’t carry out a reconnaissance. He wasn’t an amateur: he was an extremely experienced professional who knew entrapments weren’t set up instantly: entrapments required planning and Blair was pretty sure that if he made a practice run early he would be professional enough to identify any preparation.
From the embassy on Ulitza Chaykovskovo Blair walked without haste to the nearest metro, wanting to pick up the watchers. He emerged from the underground at the Sverdlova station, only starting to hurry when he was almost across Red Square and approaching the gigantic GUM department store, enjoying himself with the thought that he was going to clear his trail actually in view of the KGB headquarters. Once through the doors he really hurried, burying himself in the largest department store in the Soviet Union and reflecting as he did so that it was an ideal place in which to lose a tail. He emerged from one of the side-doors, away from the Lenin Mausoleum, hurrying this time to the Ploshchad metro terminal. The essential of identifying any surveillance is obviously to identify your pursuers and throughout Blair was alert to people close around and when he boarded the train he checked and decided that no one in the immediate carriage had been with him earlier. Which didn’t preclude the following carriage, which was the one he would have chosen if he were conducting the surveillance. To avoid that, he disembarked after two stations, remaining where he was on the platform, so that any follower would have had to get off with him and remain obviously on the station, like he was. No one did. Blair caught the next train to come along, disembarked for the necessary change and still necessary further check and emerged comparatively satisfied at Kiev station, in front of the ferry pier. Blair allowed himself to be carried aboard by the crush of people, not shouldering forward in a way that would have attracted any attention. It was full of trippers and Blair decided if it were to be a genuine meet then Orlov had chosen his protection well. Intentionally Blair set himself on the deck, near a bend in the rail which meant he only had two directions in which to look, still alert for surveillance. As the ferry made its way up river, Blair gazed up at the thrusting colonnades and obelisks commemorating the Battle of Borodino as they passed under the Borodinskiy bridge, and decided it was the most attractive of the river crossing points. The buildings were too tall – not skyscrapers like he knew them but still tall – near the Kalininskiy Bridge. Blair turned away from the bridges, gazing instead across at the Krasnaya Presnya Park, using the movement still to watch everyone around him. He employed the long stretch of the river before the twist under the railway bridge to continue the search and by the time they neared his destination Blair was sure he was clean. He thought the factories along the last section were uniform and depressive but he thought Fili Park looked attractive. Just how attractive, he wondered, would it prove to be for him?
Blair let himself be carried off the ferry as he had boarded it, by the pressure of people around, detaching himself gradually at the end of the pier and staring around. Ahead he could see the larger boats taking the trippers further north, to the beaches at Plyazh. This was the junction point, people and boats going in both directions, a pushing and shoving melee of a place. Good for an ambush as well as an unobserved meeting. Blair wandered, with apparent aimlessness, in reality aware of everything around him. It was chaotic but the proper sort of chaos: there was no artifice, of people put on stage to play their part in a performance in which he was going to become a lead player. Very slightly he relaxed.
There were refreshment stalls and snack bars, under cover and open air. Blair chose one in the open, where he could see everyone around him. Hungry at last he ordered sausage and beer, eating unhurriedly with time to kill. Around him Russians worked hard in their determination to relax and enjoy not working and Blair thought that at this level it was difficult to understand why Russians and Americans each believed the other wanted to annihilate them. OK, the fashions and the accents and the amusements were different – very different – but Blair could see a similarity between this and Coney Island. Or the pier from which he’d taken the kids boating, during the trip home. He wondered how Paul was shaping up, under the programme. He’d averaged a letter a week since he got back and hoped that whatever was going to happen this afternoon would not affect the regularity he’d established. He’d been lectured both by Kemp and Erickson how essential it was for kids to have stability and for things not suddenly to start and just as suddenly to end.
Blair took another beer – just time killing – and left the stall with some still to spare before the scheduled seven o’clock. Everything was normal, he determined, when he got back to Kuntsevo. He was sure of it. Where? he wondered, looking around. As well chosen as it was, the pierhead was still a big area. It was ridiculous his attempting to find Orlov, Blair realised. Orlov would have to find him. Near the onward ticket office there was bench and Blair sat on it, waiting. Back at Langley, station staff would be bitching at having their nights screwed up because some half-assed bigshot in Moscow imagined he was on to something hot, reflected Blair. He wondered if his waiting and their hurried formation would all be a waste of time.
No, realised Blair.
Orlov came enquiringly through the crowd from the just-arrived river boat, staring first towards the refreshment stalls and then, when he looked back, seeing the American. There was no recognition. Orlov did not approach at once but moved to his left, as if unsure in which direction to continue having left the first stage of his journey. A signal or caution? wondered Blair. His concentration was beyond the Russian, watching for any followers. If there were any they were very good, because he couldn’t isolate any. Orlov had dressed down from his usual elegance, which showed thought, but even in the sports jacket and slacks he was noticeable among the other trippers. The approach remained casual and Blair considered the man’s control was good because if the approach were genuine he would be under enormous tension. Orlov sat finally on the bench, not directly beside the American but with space between them. The moves had to start from the Russian, decided Blair, keeping to training.
‘Thank you for coming,’ said Orlov. He spoke looking out towards the river.
Remembering his internal debate at the embassy, Blair said,
‘Did you imagine I wouldn’t?’
‘I didn’t know. I wasn’t certain.’
‘You approached me,’ reminded Blair. Always he had to be extremely careful.
‘I want to go back,’ blurted Orlov.
‘Back?’
‘To America.’
‘You mean you want to defect, Mr Orlov?’ Blair spoke looking out towards the river, too, hoping he was disguising his reaction as well as the Russian had covered his emotions at the moment of approach. He hadn’t been wrong back at the embassy, he thought. Under-estimating, in fact. This would be doubly the most spectacular moment of his career.
Orlov didn’t respond at once, appearing unwilling to confirm the word. ‘I do not consider myself a traitor to my country,’ he said.
‘The Soviet Union will consider you to be.’
Orlov was silent again for several moments and then he said, ‘I will be asked to cooperate? Provide information?’
Like you wouldn’t believe, thought Blair. He said, ‘If you want the United States government to assist you and provide you with protection, which will be necessary, then they would expect cooperation in return.’
‘How much?’ demanded Orlov.
Now it was Blair’s turn to hesitate. He’d never handled a defection before but there were enough records. Usually, in their eagerness to escape, defectors fell over themselves to show what a good catch they’d be. Frequently they boasted an ability to provide information they didn’t have. He said, ‘You can’t expect me to know that.’
‘Considerable?’ persisted Orlov.
‘You are a man of great experience and prestige,’ hedged Blair. ‘I would imagine my government would be extremely interested in having the benefit of that experience.’
‘I am not a traitor,’ repeated Orlov.
‘My country would not consider you one,’ said Blair. Liar, he thought. Defectors were always feted and rewarded and usually looked after but always – deep down – they were despised, as well.
‘Will it be possible?’
‘Of course,’ assured Blair, at once. More than double spectacular, in fact. If he got Orlov out, his own position in Moscow would be untenable. Which meant that he could leave – more importantly, that Ann could leave – well in advance of the minimal period they had expected to be here. But the coup Orlov’s defection would mean for Langley would ensure that all the promises they’d made him would stand. Out before they were due and anything they chose, he thought.
‘When? It must be soon,’ said Orlov, giving the first hint of desperation.
Blair chanced a sideways look and saw that the Russian was sweating, despite his determination for control. He was sweating too, Blair realised. Blair said, ‘I will have to contact Washington, of course. Let them know fully what has happened. I will make all the arrangements.’
‘Good,’ said Orlov, the relief obvious. ‘But soon.’
‘I need to know more, Mr Orlov.’
‘More?’
‘Why do you want to defect?’
Again the word caused the Russian difficulty. He said, ‘It is a personal thing.’
What the hell did that mean? thought Blair. He said, ‘I’m afraid that if we’re going to work together as closely as will be necessary to get you out of the country, there can’t be anything personal.’
‘I don’t want her put under any pressure.’
Her! Surely Orlov wasn’t thinking of abandoning everything for a woman! Would he, for Ann? He’d abandoned his first marriage and two kids, he realised. But told her she could leave, if she didn’t like the idea of backing him in Moscow. Except that he hadn’t meant it and been terrified she might call his bluff. Blair looked quickly at the Russian again. The man was supposed to be married, he remembered, from the file.
‘Who?’ he said.
‘There is someone in New York,’ said Orlov awkwardly.
‘She’ll need to be contacted,’ said Blair. ‘Protected.’
‘Not yet,’ insisted Orlov. ‘I don’t want her alarmed until everything is settled and confirmed.’
Could he give such a positive assurance? Langley were going to go apeshit over something like this and he couldn’t predict what promises they’d keep. He said, ‘Is that a condition?’
‘Yes,’ said Orlov at once.
‘Do you have any others?’ asked the American, avoiding the commitment.
The question seemed to surprise Orlov. ‘Just to be got safely out,’ he said.
In contradiction to what Orlov had done and the echelon he’d reached, Blair decided there was almost a naivety about the man. The records were full of cases of defectors demanding millions of dollars, houses with three-car garages and every car a Cadillac. ‘We’ll need to know the name of the person in New York,’ said Blair.
‘She will not be pressured?’ demanded Orlov.
‘I will let my people know fully how you feel,’ said Blair. It was the best he could do.
‘I’ll want their assurance, before I will consider going any further.’
Naive or not he was a pretty good negotiator. ‘Of course,’ accepted Blair. ‘I need the name.’
‘Johnson,’ said Orlov shortly. ‘Harriet Johnson. She is a senior translator at the United Nations.’
Wanting to move the Russian on and knowing the man’s needs, he said, ‘I will contact Washington tonight. But it will be necessary for us to meet again, obviously.’
‘Of course,’ said Orlov. ‘Where?’
Blair looked around him and said, ‘Public places are good. But not here again.’ Remembering the trip up river he said, ‘Do you know the Krasnaya Park?’
‘Of course.’
‘There is a statue, near the central walkway. An archer. There.’
‘When?’
‘It isn’t possible now to fix times. So we’ll make floating arrangements.’
‘Floating arrangements?’
‘Which is best, day or evening?’
‘Day,’ replied Orlov at once. It had been difficult tonight avoiding the meeting with Sevin.
‘Noon then, every Friday. This week it is only two days away, by which time I’ll have a full reaction from Washington.’
‘Everything will be arranged quickly?’
‘As quickly as possible,’ said Blair, giving the repeated assurance. It would understandably be the man’s main preoccupation.
‘It isn’t easy,’ said Orlov.
‘No.’
‘I’m very frightened.’
‘Everything will be all right,’ promised Blair.
‘I will be accused of being a traitor, won’t I?’
Blair was unsure what response the man wanted. Orlov wasn’t a fool, he thought. He said, ‘Yes, you will be labelled a traitor.’
Momentarily Orlov’s head went forward on to his chest. He said, his voice muffled, ‘I won’t betray my country. I will talk to your people because I know I must give something but I won’t betray my country, not completely.’
He would, thought Blair. He might set out not intending to – have assurances that it wasn’t expected – but the debriefings would go on and on, chipping and prodding until Orlov had been picked clean, like a skeleton after the vultures had left. ‘I understand,’ said Blair. It wasn’t a discussion – or even a consideration-for him.
‘Noon, at Krasnaya,’ confirmed Orlov.
‘And let neither of us panic, if for any reason it’s impossible. It won’t be for me, I can assure you. But it might be for you. If you can’t make it, then I’ll be there again the same time the following Friday. That’s what floating arrangement means.’
‘I’m not sure I could wait that long,’ said Orlov.
‘Don’t take any chances,’ warned Blair. ‘If you panic everything could be destroyed.’
‘I won’t panic,’ promised Orlov.
‘It’s important,’ stressed Blair.
‘It’s a strange feeling,’ said Orlov. ‘Frightened, like I said. I can’t imagine how my life is goin
g to change, not really.’
I know just how mine is going to change, thought Blair.
Washington’s reaction was as frantic as Blair expected it to be. It took a long time to make the exchanges, because they used the highest security ciphers and during a lull in transmission Blair telephoned Ann to tell her not to wait up and she said she wouldn’t. Langley cabled for him to give any undertaking Orlov required and to assure the man of their complete and absolute protection. Halfway through the exchanges the cables started to be signed by the Director himself, congratulations first, then demands for clarification on points Blair felt he had already made clear. One of the last messages was the demand that he return personally to Washington, which Blair agreed to do but successfully argued against immediate recall, to enable him to make the Friday meeting with Orlov.
The Lost American Page 20
