“Dallas? Jack Ruby? The Carousel Club? Melchior could’ve sent us a coded telegram, but he mentioned those names out loud. On purpose. He’s trying to find out if anyone in the Company besides Everton is spying on him.”
“Because?”
“Don’t play dumb, Pavel. He’s not just going rogue. He’s going away. He’s going to kill everyone who can identify him. When this is over, only you and I will know that he ever existed, let alone that he still does.”
A smile flickered over Ivelitsch’s mouth. “I’m almost impressed. But can he pull it off?”
“You mean logistically? Or temperamentally? Logistically I think it’s doable. For twenty years he’s been in the field. He’s virtually unknown by Company brass, let alone other agents. Everton’s the only person in Langley besides the Wiz who’s seen his face in the past decade.”
“What about the other Wiz Kids?”
Song shrugged. “As near as I can tell, that’s a story Melchior made up himself.”
“And Caspar? Can he kill him?”
“I don’t know. Something’s changed in him since he came back from Cuba, and it’s not just getting hold of this bomb, or even Orpheus. He’s become more calculating. Maybe he’s just realized that with the Wiz out of the picture, he has to plan a different future for himself, but he’s a much more ruthless man than the one I met a decade ago.”
Ivelitsch shook his head. “I meant, will Caspar try to kill Melchior?”
Song looked at Ivelitsch sharply. “You know why Caspar was sent to Russia, don’t you?”
“Presumably to infiltrate—”
“Caspar couldn’t have infiltrated his mother’s house. He carries a sign over his head that says ‘SPY’ in neon letters.”
“Then why send him to the Soviet Union?”
“Because even if he
“To—kill him?” Ivelitsch’s eyebrows went up, though it was impossible to tell if he was amazed or merely amused. “This sounds more like Mother than the Wiz. It also sounds like a suicide mission.”
“Be that as it may, it didn’t work. And now Caspar’s back in the States, still looking for a leader to kill.”
Ivelitsch shook his head. “What a curious profession we have. So. I take it this is your way of saying Caspar will do it.”
“I think he’ll try. Whether he’ll pull it off is another thing. Among other things, he’s not a particularly good shot.”
“And if he misses? Melchior will kill him?”
“Like I said, something’s happened to alienate him from the Company. I don’t know what he’s capable of now.”
“You think he wants revenge?”
“It’s more than that. He wants to prove them wrong. He has to make himself believe that he’s not just the Wiz’s pickaninny after all.”
“I don’t like it. An intelligence agent’s actions should be convoluted, but his motivations should always be crystal clear and simple. Zeal or greed I understand, even glory, but this is oedipal—messy—and it has a damn good chance of blowing up in our faces.”
“Well, for now we have to trust him. He’s brilliant in the field, and every king needs a general.” She looked at Ivelitsch pointedly. “I can manage him.”
“Every king needs a queen as well,” Ivelitsch said, giving Song a tight-lipped smile. “Just make sure you’re not trying to manage all of us.”
Suddenly there was a crash in the hallway, and Ivelitsch jerked upright.
“What the hell—”
Song felt a familiar dull thud in her head. Immediately she understood.
“Orpheus!”
Ivelitsch looked at her sharply. “How do you know?”
“No time to explain. We have to get out of here.”
“Nix that,” Ivelitsch said, pulling his gun from his jacket. “I’m going to take care of this Orpheus problem once and for all.”
“Pavel, no—”
But it was too late. Ivelitsch pulled open the door and strode into the hall.
New York, NY
November 19, 1963
Chandler paced the floor of the SRO for all of five minutes after BC headed to Peggy
