‘Who says?’ she asked, a demand of her own. ‘Where are the rules that everyone obeys that say you can’t love two people?’
‘You’re going to have to make a choice.’
‘I don’t want to,’ she said. ‘I’m frightened.’
Should he tell her what he’d already concluded, that Orlov was Blair’s source and that Blair would stay in Moscow until hell froze over? He wasn’t so certain of that, not any more. There was definitely a link but he wasn’t sure he’d interpreted it correctly. ‘Why’s Eddie gone back, so unexpectedly?’
‘He said it was something to do with Paul.’
‘There wasn’t this panic last time.’
‘No,’ she said heavily. ‘I know.’
Conscious of the tone, Brinkman said, ‘What do you think it is?’
‘I told him I thought it was Ruth.’
‘What about Ruth?’ he said, momentarily not understanding.
‘Wouldn’t the affair with Paul have brought them together again?’
‘There still wouldn’t have been this panic’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Not much,’ said Ann. ‘Burst in, like I told you. Emptied his pockets on the desk …’ She gestured over his shoulder. ‘Packed a case and went off to the airport.’
‘But he told you he loved you?’
‘There was a kind of a row,’ Ann confessed. ‘When I said I thought he was going back to see Ruth he said I was stupid and that everything was going to work out. That things wouldn’t be as bad as I thought they were going to be.’
Brinkman tried to curb any reaction and knew he succeeded because Ann appeared in some sort of reverie. ‘What did he mean by that? That things wouldn’t be as bad as you thought they were going to be?’
‘He wouldn’t say. I even asked if it meant he wouldn’t have to stay here in Moscow but he wouldn’t say.’
Brinkman risked looking over his shoulder. The desk top was still jumbled, which was unusual in an apartment as reasonably kept as this. He stood, with accustomed familiarity in her home and said, ‘Do you want a drink?’
‘Not really.’
Neither did Brinkman but the drinks tray was next to the desk. He made the pretence of examining the selection, lifting and putting down bottles, looking back to see if she were paying any particular attention, which she wasn’t. He poured scotch but put the glass back not on the tray but alongside on the desk, jostling what lay there. He turned back to her, his body screening her from what he was doing, spreading what Blair had left further, so that it would only take one look. ‘You sure?’ he said.
‘Maybe vodka then.’
He turned back, glad of the extra few seconds, looking not at the drinks but sideways on the desk. There were some official government passes, the sort they all carried, for use within Moscow and some small change Blair clearly felt he wouldn’t need. And a single sheet of paper, half hidden by a car parking permit. Brinkman shifted the permit, making to pick up his own glass. There was only a single, printed line. UNXT 481.
Brinkman carried the drinks back and said ‘Cheers’ and she smiled back at him, a sad expression.
‘How long is he going to be away?’
‘I don’t know. Not as long as last time, he said.’
‘At least that’ll make some things easier,’ he said.
She smiled, sad again. ‘Not tonight, darling.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just don’t want to.’
‘I see.’
‘Don’t, darling.’
‘How do you expect me to feel!’
‘How do you expect me to feel? I’m the one who has to choose, eventually.’
Did Blair’s remark mean he was getting out of Moscow on time? Or even quicker. If it did it would mean Ann would go with him. Unless she chose. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Not tonight.’ It would be wrong to push her.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘How about tomorrow night?’
‘We’ll see.’ Aware of his wince, she said, ‘We’ll talk tomorrow. We’ll try to make it tomorrow night.’
Brinkman went angrily from the apartment. His first inclination was to go to his own place but then he changed his mind, driving back to the embassy and shutting himself again in his room, gazing down at the pictures of Orlov. He wasn’t going to lose, he determined. Wouldn’t lose. He smiled, suddenly, looking down at the top photograph. It couldn’t be as easy as that? As simple? But why not? He’d spent hours trying to evolve convoluted scenarios and it could all be childishly, ridiculously easy. He prefaced the lengthy cable to Maxwell with the assurance that he would not be making the request unless he considered what he was asking for to be absolutely essential. And absolutely urgent. Before he encoded it, Brinkman stared again at the message, deciding that the queries looked like some rather complicated crossword puzzle. Which, he supposed, was exactly what they were.
Ruth was embarrassed, seeking reassurance now. ‘So I overreacted then?’
‘No, Mrs Blair,’ said Kemp at once. ‘OK, so this time it seems that Paul was telling the truth. The urinalysis is clear and the other boys we finally located said all they did was talk. I don’t know why he didn’t tell you himself who they were: three were from the same programme. They just hung around outside for a while. The point is that he could have been doing something stupid. And the most important thing is that he knows now how you’d react if he were. It’s taught him a lesson.’
‘It’s not going to be easy, is it?’ said Ruth, wearily.
‘I never thought it would be, Mrs Blair,’ said the counsellor.
This time the inadequate surveillance was reported and it arrived on Sokol’s desk within two hours of the notification from Sheremetyevo of Blair’s abrupt and second departure to Washington. Sokol recognised at once he had stumbled across an operation. The efforts to which Blair went to slip any cover indicated that: and so did the return to America. Sokol further decided that because of the crass incompetence of men specifically assigned to watch the American – an instruction which should have alerted them to its importance – he was way behind in trying to discover what it was. To find out, he thought, might give him the long sought-after coup. To fail might mean a disaster sufficient to bring him down, like the receding famine almost had. He summoned the watch squad from the airport, for congratulation and a personal briefing on the importance of identifying Blair’s return. And issued arrest and disciplinary hearing orders against the idiots around Blair’s apartment and the US embassy, who had failed. Mistakes had to stop, Sokol realised.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hubble came personally to the airport to meet him. Customs clearance was arranged so they bypassed the formalities and were in the limousine within fifteen minutes of Blair emerging from the aircraft. The division chief waited until they were in the security of the vehicle, with the dividing partition raised to separate them from the driver and his escort and said, ‘You’ve done it, Eddie. The jackpot. Every bell is ringing.’
Blair was suffering his customary fatigue and found Hubble’s enthusiasm difficult. He wondered if the man talked like that all the time. He said, ‘We’ve got to get him across first.’
‘We’re not going to let this one go, buddy. Believe me we’re not.’
Blair did believe him, from the reaction so far. He looked out at the Beltway, remembering his initial difficulty last time with all the cars. He’d have to call Ruth when he got the opportunity. He’d remembered a gift in Amsterdam, the same sort of perfume he’d bought Ann. He’d been undecided about the boys and copied the homeward journey again, buying them both watches, the heavy calibrated sort that divers were supposed to wear. They’d be surprised, to have him home again so soon. He said, ‘What’s been set up here?’
‘Everything,’ assured Hubble. ‘All the details can wait until we get to Langley but believe me there isn’t anything that hasn’t been thought of …’ The man paused and Blair wa
ited for the announcement. ‘Guess who’s going to chair this afternoon’s meeting!’
It was obvious but Blair gave the man the moment he wanted. ‘Who?’ he said.
‘The Director himself!’
Blair thought Hubble would have enjoyed the announcement having some sort of band accompaniment. ‘Jackpot, like you said.’
Despite it being an official Agency car with a recognisable division chief as a passenger they still had to go through the formal security procedures. Once inside the main building Hubble took over the rôle as guide. When they entered the elevator he pressed the button for the seventh floor and Blair guessed there had been some arrangement to advise the Director of their arrival. He was crumpled and stubble-chinned again and wished he’d had the opportunity to clean up.
The Director’s office was a lavish suite, personally designed by Allen Dulles but never occupied by him because he was fired as Director by President Kennedy after the Bay of Pigs disaster. I hope this isn’t a disaster, thought Blair, entering behind his immediate superior.
Rupert Perelmen was a tall, dome-headed man wearing rimless spectacles and a suit as crumpled as Blair’s. He looked precisely the academic he had been until his appointment as Director by a President who decided the Agency needed a political scientist as its head. The man got up as they entered, coming forward with his hand outstretched to greet Blair and personally to guide him to a chair. When Perelmen returned to his own seat he beamed professorially and said, ‘Well done. Very well done indeed!’
Blair thought it sounded like he’d got good marks in an examination, which perhaps he had. He was aware of the continued sense of over-enthusiasm. He said ‘It’s got a long way to go yet, sir.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Perelmen. ‘But I’m confident. We’ve already made a lot of contingency plans. Now I’d like you to run through it for me, right from the start.’
They’d already had it in at least four variations, thought Blair. Obediently he recounted the events from the time of Orlov’s approach at the reception to their first meeting and then the previous night’s encounter at the ferry head.
‘No demands at all?’ intruded Hubble.
‘Only about the woman,’ said Blair. ‘What about her?’
The Director raised his hand, reassuringly. ‘Exactly what he wanted. No approach whatsoever.’
‘She’s on a lead, of course,’ elaborated Hubble. ‘Round-the-clock watch. Cover on everything she does. She doesn’t know how safe she is.’
‘He doesn’t want her to know,’ reminded Blair.
‘They’re not amateurs,’ said Hubble, as if imagining criticism.
‘Would Orlov run, if he found out?’ asked Perelmen.
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Blair, at once. ‘I don’t know why it’s something he’s so adamant about.’
‘When does he want her involved?’ asked Hubble.
‘He hasn’t made that clear, not properly. He just talked about when everything is arranged. Maybe when we actually have him on the move. My guess is he’s frightened something will happen to her before they get together.’
‘It wouldn’t, if she were under our protection,’ said Perelmen.
‘I’ll make the point,’ promised Blair.
‘You imagine he doesn’t want to talk to us, not completely?’
‘I don’t imagine,’ he said. ‘I know.’
‘Let’s not worry about that now,’ dismissed Perelmen, hurriedly. ‘Let’s get him here, first. Everything else will unfold naturally enough.’
Poor bastard, thought Blair. He said, ‘We haven’t discussed at all how to get him out. It’ll have to be during some overseas visit, to be safe.’
‘Can he fix that?’
‘He’s got the authority,’ said Blair. ‘I didn’t raise it until I had the opportunity to talk to you here: wanted to know the countries in which we were best placed.’
‘Europe, obviously,’ said Perelmen. ‘Anywhere really, although England and Germany would be best. We’ve a lot of secure airbases in Germany. If it’s got to be anywhere in Eastern Europe then OK, but it’ll be more difficult. Too many things can go wrong trying a border crossing like that.’
Blair supposed Perelmen would have met the traditional opposition within the Agency from professionals having an amateur put in control over them. He seemed to have adjusted very well. He said, ‘How much warning would you need?’
‘We’ve expanded the emergency desk in the Watch Room,’ said the Director. ‘We established a complete contingency unit, specifically for Orlov’s crossing. I’ve already moved twenty men into Europe. Germany. Like I said, that’s where we’re best placed, if there’s a choice. Every sort of necessary transportation, too. We’ll only need hours.’
‘If we can make it an overseas visit we’ll have days,’ said Blair. He hesitated and then said, ‘What if we can’t fix something that will officially get him across the border?’
‘Then it’s Action Man stuff,’ said Hubble. ‘And you’ll really be earning your salary. The favourite would be to try for the Finnish border and cross there.’
Christ, Hubble irritated him, thought Blair. Action Man! He said, it won’t be easy, crossing the distance to Finland. Unless we could get aboard an aircraft in some way it’ll take two days to get there: maybe more. And at the first hint that Orlov had made a run for it they’d try to seal that country like a drum.’
‘I’d risk a crossing, to come in to get you,’ disclosed Perelmen. ‘Not to Moscow, of course. As far into Karelia as we could get.’
‘That would require a pick-up coordinate I couldn’t give any guarantee to make, on time.’
‘Then we’d keep crossing until you did,’ said Hubble. ‘We’ll ship homing devices and the sort of radios you’ll need in the diplomatic pouch: that’s part of the contingency.’
Blair hoped there would be some other way. He said, ‘What about here?’
‘Everything’s set,’ assured the Director. ‘We’ve got three “safe” houses, two in Maryland and one in Virginia. We’ll use them all, of course, but he can make his choice. Tell him that after we’ve talked things out he’ll be given a completely new identity … social security number, bank account, stuff like that. And a government pension that we can negotiate when he gets here.’
After we’ve talked things out, reflected Blair. He wondered if it would be as obvious to Orlov as it was to him that the promised pension depended upon how much he was prepared to talk things out. If they debriefed the Russian as extensively as Blair guessed, Orlov would be a white-haired old guy of pensionable age anyway. ‘I’ll set it out,’ Blair promised.
‘And a house, of course,’ added Perelmen, in an afterthought.
‘How long do you want me to stay? There’s no scheduled contact for another week, even if he’s able to make that.’
‘This is just a preliminary meeting,’ said Perelmen. ‘Chance for me to express my personal thanks. Tomorrow I want you to go through everything with the leaders of the groups we’ve established, see whether you can think of anything else.’
‘Sure,’ said Blair. It meant the weekend at least with the kids. And Ruth.
‘And Eddie?’
Christian name terms, realised Blair. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘I was impressed before,’ reminded the Director. ‘Everything said then stands now. Doubly so.’
‘Did I or did I not say jackpot!’ demanded Hubble, as they walked along the corridor outside the Director’s office.
Hubble was the sort of talking doll you actually got for winning a jackpot, thought Blair.
It was a race again, decided Brinkman, exultantly. And now he knew what the medal was, he was going to win it. It was still interpretation, of course, but then everything in Moscow was interpretation. He gazed down, tired-eyed, at the second batch of material he’d requested from London, comparing it with the first. He knew he was right. What’s more, he knew how he could prove it. It meant expecting Maxwell and maybe someone higher
bending the rules but when they realised what the prize was he expected them to do so. He sent the requests and waited for the predictable query, assuring Maxwell it was essential he return personally to London. Anticipating the initial response he kept the name for the second message, but had he not already established the sort of reputation he had Brinkman doubted permission would have been given.
‘Going away!’ said Ann.
‘Just a quick trip.’
‘Where?’
‘London.’
She closed her eyes in envy. Opening them again she said, ‘How long for?’
‘Not more than a few days. Quick, like I said.’ Blair had more than a head started so everything was going to have to be quick.
‘I’ll miss you,’ she said.
‘Will you?’ said Brinkman, eagerly.
‘You know I will.’
‘It’ll give you time to think,’ he said.
‘About what?’
‘I want you to make the choice, darling. I want you to choose between Eddie and me. I’m saying I want to marry you.’
‘No!’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Brinkman. ‘While we’re both away it’ll give you time to make up your mind.’
Brinkman didn’t want to win just part of it; he wanted to win it all. That’s what he’d always wanted. And always intended to get.
‘Why didn’t you call from Moscow?’ said Ruth.
‘There wasn’t time: everything was too quick.’
‘It’s good to see you again.’
‘And you.’
‘The boys will be glad: delighted, in fact.’
‘How’s Paul making out?’
Ruth told him about the scare and how she’d reacted and Blair’s reaction was the same as the counsellors’, which relieved her. Kemp and the school principal were keeping a close eye on his grades and they hadn’t dropped and as part of the programme she’d joined a parents’ group. There was a meeting the following night.
‘I’ll come too,’ announced Blair.
She hesitated. ‘Charlie said he’d come with me.’
‘Can’t we all go?’
Lost American Page 22
