Red Sparrow

by Jason Matthews

  “We lived with the possibility it could happen,” said Benford.

  “But why now?” said Dominika. “We would have worked together. How did this happen?” Benford noticed that her concern was only for Korchnoi. She was not thinking about herself.

  “We’re not sure,” said Benford. “After the loss of the US mole, Line KR has been looking for the leak. It could have been a mistake he made.”

  Dominika shook her head.

  “After fourteen years? I do not think so. He was too good.” Forsyth studiously did not look at Benford. Forsyth’s blue mantle was paler today, perhaps he was tired. In contrast, Benford exuded an inky blue. He is working, thinking, plotting, she thought. Dominika knew something was not right.

  Benford looked at his hands when he spoke. “You know, Dominika, Volodya had great admiration for you.” Dominika watched him carefully, how he held his hands. He definitely was working.

  “I believe he envisioned you as his replacement, to continue this work. We thought we had two years, perhaps three, to build this together. We could not have known. So now it falls to you, sooner than we want, but it falls to you, nonetheless.” Dominika turned to Forsyth, who reached out to pat her hand, but she moved it slightly out of his reach. There was a lot of blue fog in this room, she thought.

  “I am heartbroken over the arrest of the general. I will never forget him,” said Dominika slowly. “But you are direct, Gospodin Benford. With him gone, you are telling me that it is otvetstvennost, how do you say it, my responsibility, to continue the struggle. That’s it, isn’t it? It remains only for me to decide whether I will continue working.” She stopped and looked at them, reading their faces. “Gospodin Forsyth. What do you and Bratok think?”

  “I would tell you exactly what Marty Gable told you,” said Forsyth. “Follow your heart, do what you believe.” Benford looked over at him, mouth pursing in annoyance. Forsyth could have been a little goddamned more persuasive.

  “Your reasons to join us were complicated,” said Forsyth, who knew what he was doing, to whom he was speaking. “Friendship with Nate, your despair over the disappearance of your friend, being undervalued and mistreated by your own Service. Having control of your life and career. Nothing about that has changed, right?”

  “You should be a college professor,” said Dominika, watching him waltz.

  “We don’t want to overwhelm you,” said Forsyth.

  “Yes, we do.” Benford laughed. “Damn it, Domi, we need you.” Inky blue like the tail fan of a peacock.

  She looked at the bandage on her leg. “I am not sure I can agree,” she said. “I must consider it.”

  “We know you will,” said Forsyth. “If you do agree, the most important thing will be to get you back to Moscow quickly, securely. And that’s why we three are the only ones who know where you are.”

  “Not even Nathaniel?” Dominika said.

  “I’m afraid not,” said Benford, his color unchanged. At least he’s telling the truth, thought Dominika.

  =====

  Awake early, Dominika stood barefoot in the spacious living room of the safe house. The triple doors were folded back, opening the whole room to the wide, marble-floored balcony over which stretched a blue canvas awning that lightly billowed and popped in the last puffs of the onshore sea breeze. Across the Glyfada coast road, the Aegean sparkled in the morning light of a sun still low on the horizon. Dominika felt the warmth building on the marble floor. She was wearing a belted cotton bathrobe and her hair was a tousled mess. A clean bandage was tight around her thigh. Gable had gone out for bread.

  She jumped at the soft knock and stood to one side of the door and waved a folded newspaper across the peephole, waited, then looked out. Nate, standing in the hallway, looking down. Dominika turned the locks, opened the door. Leaning against a cane, Nate limped straight into the center of the room. She turned and went up to him, snaked her arms around his neck, and kissed him. She hadn’t seen him since the first safe house, after she held the IV bag above his head in Gable’s car. She had sat with him the first night, but then he was gone.

  “Where have you been?” she said, pulling his hair. “I have been asking about you.” She looked in shock at his purple face, which blended with his florid halo. “You saved my life, it was my stupid mistake, I made you come to my hotel room.” She kissed him again. “How are you? Let me see your hand.” She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed the back of it. “Why haven’t you come to me?” He stepped back from her.

  “Were you ever going to tell me about this safe house?” said Nate woodenly. “Were you going to let me know where you were?” His words came at her, each one a deep-purple disc in the air. It was as if she could feel them hitting her body. She moved out to the balcony.

  “Yes, of course,” said Dominika, “after a few days. Benford asked me to stay quiet for two or three days. To let things calm.” She leaned against the railing. Nate followed and leaned against the doorjamb. His purple cloud pulsed as if someone were flicking a light switch on and off. Nate’s hands were shaking and he put them in his pockets.

  “How did you find me?” asked Dominika.

  “Everything that’s going on with this case—safe houses, signals, SIGINT—is being reported to Headquarters,” said Nate. “I wrote some of the cables, but Benford and Forsyth apparently have written a few of their own, in restricted channels. I was able to read some of those, against regulations. I’ve read quite a lot, actually.”

  Dominika looked at him, watched his halo, read his face, felt his anger. This was what Benford had wanted.

  “Do you know Vladimir Korchnoi has been arrested in Moscow?” Nate said brutally. “There’s SIGINT, and collateral reporting, and the VCh line in Moscow is buzzing. Do you know he’s in Lefortovo?” Dominika didn’t answer.

  “What did you say to your uncle when you called Moscow?” said Nate. His tone was flat, unemotional. Dominika’s stomach felt heavy, weighted.

  “Neyt, Benford doesn’t want us to speak of this. He was quite clear.”

  “The cables said you called your uncle. You said that we had been together. The cables said that I had told you about the mole I handled in Moscow. Who told you to say that?” Nate stood sullenly, his hands by his sides, his color pulsing. “Do you know that your call probably got Korchnoi arrested? What did you say to Egorov?”

  “What are you talking about?” Dominika said, confused, frightened. She felt the rage building, more so because it was Nate telling her these things. She needed to ask him once. “Do you believe I would knowingly do such a thing?” asked Dominika.

  “So you didn’t know? It’s all in the cable traffic,” said Nate.

  “I don’t care what is in the cables,” she said, taking a step toward him. “Do you believe I would harm him, this man?” She remembered Benford’s instructions to say nothing.

  “When you didn’t call me, when you went into hiding, I thought it was for security. But how could you have agreed to betray the general? Your call to Moscow was the trigger.”

  Dominika could only stare at him. “Did Benford tell you to do this?”

  Nate ran his fingers through his hair. “You followed orders, you bought the plan. Whatever the goal, your placement as prime agent is assured. Congratulations.” Purple and emotion, lava running downhill.

  “What are you talking about?” said Dominika. “I did not sell anyone.”

  “Well, Korchnoi is in Lefortovo, thanks to your call. You’re now number one. He’s lost.”

  “You think I did this?” Dominika said. “You cannot speak to me this way.” She wanted to scream, but instead spat the words out in a whisper. “After all we have gone through, after all that is between us.” Dominika did not permit herself to cry.

  “That’s not going to help Korchnoi now,” said Nate. He straightened and turned toward the apartment door. She could stop him with a word, a half dozen sentences of explanation, but she would not. The door closed on his luminous rage.

>   =====

  Forsyth had to restrain Dominika when Benford told her that her scripted phone conversation with Uncle Vanya had indeed directly resulted in the arrest of Korchnoi. “How dare you use me in this,” spat Dominika as she pulled against Forsyth’s arms. He steered her to an armchair and continued standing between her and Benford, while she gripped the arms of the chair. “You used me like a common donoschik, an informer.” She made to get up again, but stopped when Forsyth put up his hand.

  “You’re all so smart, you could not think of anything better than this?”

  Benford was pacing in the living room, trailing a dark-blue cape of deceit. The sea breeze blew through the balcony doors. “We made a decision, Dominika,” said Benford. “I will tell you that Volodya conceived the plan, he insisted on it. For him it was the culmination of his career as an agent. He had you spotted and elected and prepared as his successor before you got out of Lefortovo. He would be satisfied now.”

  Dominika’s hands gripped her chair. “You will let him die to continue the secrets? Is the stupid information more important to you than this man?” She got up and paced the room, her arms around her stomach, her hair in all directions.

  “The stupid information is, in fact, the point of what we do. We all sacrifice to play the Game. No one is immune,” said Benford.

  Dominika looked at Benford and with great force swatted a lamp on the side table to the floor, shattering it on the marble. “I asked you if the information was more important than the man, than Vladimir Korchnoi,” said Dominika, shouting. She was looking at Benford as if she were ready to sink her teeth into his neck. Forsyth was shocked at her fury. He moved a half step toward her in case she launched.

  “To tell you the truth,” said Benford, looking first at Forsyth, then at Dominika, “no. But we have to move forward. It is now more important than ever for you to return. That is the task at hand right now.”

  “More important than ever? You make me responsible for killing this man. You have maneuvered me into this position. If I refuse, knowing what you made me do, the general’s sacrifice will have been wasted.” She pivoted and started pacing again. She looked at them through narrowed eyes. The hem of her dress shivered as her body trembled. “You are no better than they are.”

  “Compose yourself. There is no time for this,” said Benford. “Volodya would tell you the same. You now have to prepare to return to Russia. We must take advantage of the situation. Cultivate your fame as the officer who identified the mole, who passed the critical information that resulted in his arrest. You must exploit the credit within your service.” Benford’s halo was as blue as an alpine lake. He was concentrating, nervous, anxious.

  “Khren,” said Dominika, “bullshit. You did not tell me the truth. I never would have agreed to this.”

  No one spoke. They were in the living room, motionless, looking at one another. Forsyth watched Dominika’s breathing slow, saw her hands unclench, her face relax. Was she going to go along? Benford broke the silence.

  “We have to move quickly,” he said. “Dominika, are you in agreement? Can you accept this?” Dominika straightened her shoulders.

  “No, Benford, I will not accept this, I cannot.” She looked over at Forsyth. “I am a trained intelligence officer in the SVR,” she said. “I am familiar with the Game. I know about sacrifice, about doing gadkiy mery, repulsive things, for operational advantage.” She looked at them both. “But there are things more important than duty. Respect and trust. Between colleagues and partners. You require it from me; why should I not require it from you?”

  “I want you to keep in mind that this situation is what Volodya wanted. I would not want to contemplate wasting his courage,” said Benford, feeling the sand slipping between his fingers.

  Dominika looked at the two men for a beat, then turned and went into her bedroom, closing the door softly. Not good, thought Forsyth. He turned to Benford.

  “You think she’s left us?” he said.

  “Fifty-fifty,” said Benford tiredly, leaning back on the sofa. “We don’t have much more time. If she’s going back, she’s got to decide in the next day. MARBLE was convinced she’d agree. I don’t want to think of the flap on our hands if we’ve let MARBLE get the chop for nothing, if she refuses to go back inside.”

  “But that’s not all,” said Forsyth, “is it?”

  “You tell me,” said Benford.

  “You’ve got one final card in your hand. Something that will convince her to continue.”

  “I dislike the metaphor. This is not a game of chance.”

  “Sure it is, Simon,” said Forsyth. “It’s all about chance.”

  =====

  Benford sat on a couch under a potted linden tree in the atrium of the König von Ungarn Hotel in Vienna, in an angle of the Schulerstrasse behind St. Stephen’s. Benford had returned after an amusing half hour at the Bristol Hotel with the SVR’s Line KR chief, Alexei Zyuganov, who had appeared wearing an inexplicable felt snap-brim hat. He was accompanied by a dark-complected young man from the Russian Embassy. Over a glass of Polish vodka and a small plate of sweet-sour cucumbers, Zyuganov continued to profess ignorance of the bloodbath in Athens. He had refused to speak of Vladimir Korchnoi other than to repeat that he was guilty of treason. He insisted that Benford press the Greek government for the immediate release of Egorova to the Russian Embassy in Athens.

  Benford with a straight face told Zyuganov that the Greeks were being obstreperous and were not only interrogating Egorova about the death of the former Spetsnaz officer in the Grande Bretagne Hotel, but also insisting that she participate in a press conference about all her activities in exchange for a lighter prison sentence. Zyuganov sat up straight and again insisted that Egorova be released, at which point Benford made his proposal. A half hour later a vibrating Alexei Zyuganov left the Bristol abruptly, without paying for his brandy. That’s all right, thought Benford. They’re paying for it more than they could imagine.

  =====

  In his Kremlin office, the blue eyes blazed and the Cupid’s-bow mouth turned up a fraction. The politician in him instantly saw the benefit in the Americans’ proposal. The former KGB functionary in him appreciated the operational expediency. But the strongman bent on consolidating absolute power in his retooled Russian Empire would not accept second place, not even with these stakes. Zyuganov stood in the wood-paneled Kremlin office with head bowed as his president spoke softly into his ear, a paternal hand on the dwarf’s little shoulder.

  BRISTOL HOTEL CUCUMBER SALAD

  Peel and seed halved cucumbers and slice thinly. Finely chop red onion and one chili pepper. Mix in bowl with white cider vinegar, salt, pepper, sugar, dill weed, and a drop of sesame oil. Serve chilled.

  40

  Benford, Forsyth, and Gable were in Athens Station. They sat at one end of a scarred conference table in the secure room—a thirty-foot Lucite trailer on Lucite legs inside a larger host room, under the harsh light of the fluorescent tubes arrayed on the top of the trailer. Their coffee mugs added fresh heat rings to the numerous old ones along the table. Nate was down the hall, in the infirmary, some stitches were coming out.

  “It’s going to be quite a scene if DIVA doesn’t agree to return,” said Gable. “The Russians will be so pissed they’ll shoot MARBLE out of spite.” Benford put a satchel on the table and unclipped the clasps on the flap. He turned to Gable.

  “You will be pleased to hear that you have just been elected to convince DIVA not to defect, but to return inside, and in harness,” said Benford. “Apart from our young superstar out there, she respects you the most. You are the only one she calls, what is it, bratwurst?”

  “Bratok,” said Gable. “It means ‘brother.’”

  “I see. Well, brother, she views me as having betrayed her, and by extension the entire CIA. For operational reasons we do not want to involve Nash too closely—besides, there is a fatal strain thanks to the ill-advised physical interaction between the two.” He looked at Fo
rsyth and then pointedly at Gable. “That is why I am entrusting this infinitely delicate part of the operation to you,” said Benford. “Bratok, get DIVA to agree.”

  Benford opened the satchel and turned it upside down. Papers and glossy black-and-white photographs spilled onto the table. Forsyth stacked them and looked at each one in turn, then passed it over to Gable. The glossies showed a rural river, smooth and slow, with a slash of foam over a weir and above it a two-lane highway bridge on concrete abutments, light poles with curving arms along the railing. Castles on either side of the river, one with a square tower, the other crenellated and squat. Rude little houses along the river and sooty apartment blocks in the distance against a gray sky. Articulated trucks with canvas tops were stacked up in a line on the bridge.

  “The Narva River Bridge,” said Benford, pointing at one of the photos. “On the right, Russia. On the left, the West, if that’s what you want to call Estonia.” He spun another photo around. “Control station. This crossing is quiet, mostly trucks, very slow. Petersburg is one hundred thirty klicks north.” Benford tapped the photo. “This is where she’ll cross.”

  “Why are we doing this?” asked Gable. “The Greeks could escort her to the airport and put her on a plane. She would be home in three hours.” Benford studied one of the photographs, then finally answered.

  “To use one of Forsyth’s unfortunate gambling metaphors, we have broken even, more or less. On one hand, thanks to MARBLE, we have neutralized a mole in Washington. On the other hand, we have sustained the grievous loss of MARBLE. In exchange, DIVA has, we hope, immensely advanced her standing. I might add,” he said, sipping his coffee, “that we were extremely lucky in that DIVA and Nash escaped mortal injury at the hands of that Spetsnaz assassin.

  “For me, the one unsatisfactory aspect in all this is the ultimate price paid by a courageous old man. I tried to reason with him to continue as before, to avoid precipitate action, but he was adamant. He sensed his time was short.” Benford looked at the faces around the table, then began shuffling through the photos again.