“Neither did Hoover. But I knew where. Hoover showed me where.”
“Hoover?”
“Strange, isn’t it, to end up on the same side. We were both looking for him. And he helped me.” A small smile, a twist of history. “You see, I thought it had to be somebody I knew. The mind plays these funny tricks when you don’t know where to look. You turn things over and over-you suspect everybody. Everybody. Your best friend. Why not? He took my wife. Or your housekeeper.” He nodded. “Even Nora. Imagine. The best one was Welles himself. Just the kind of elaborate bluff the comrades would like.”
He stopped and shook his head. “So much time wasted. Then Hoover showed me. I got some of Silver’s early reports, the ones Josef had kept to himself, and that’s when everything began to fall into place. After I left Hoover went on another witch-hunt, this time internal. Right through the Bureau. Now that was interesting. He had never done this before, at least that we knew. So how did we know now? I studied those reports over and over. You see, we’d never been able to crack the Bureau. And now here it was, details, how he was turning the place inside out, what he was thinking. Not low-level information-someone close to him. And everything else began to make sense. The access everywhere, not just one department. The personal information-who else had files like that? Why he had to be protected-Dzerzhinsky would have done anything to keep someone close to Hoover. A prize. And that hunt, for Hoover to go after his own-I know what that’s like. It’s always the worst fear in the service, a renegade agent, someone who knows. Now it made sense why it was so hard for me to track him. The others, they’d reveal themselves one way or the other. You can’t imagine the mistakes. They don’t follow their own rules. Sometimes, by accident, even their own names, or their colleagues‘. But Silver was different. He was a professional, careful. Nothing to indicate where he was. But when Hoover knew, then I knew too. He was there. Our man in the Bureau. If it hadn’t been for Hoover, I never would have known where to look.”
“But you said there’s always a pattern.”
“To the reports, yes. A certain style. But never how he knew. The others, they made regular reports, even when they had nothing to report. But with Silver, months would go by. No unnecessary risks. Then, when he had something, there’d be several in a row, all complete. Then nothing again. You had to wait. When he stopped, I didn’t know it for months. I kept waiting. But he was gone.”
“What do you mean, he stopped?”
“No reports. No documents. It got to be a year. That’s a long time. I thought he was dead, or Hoover had finally got him and covered it up. What else? The others were all gone, one way or another. He had a long run, longer than most. People get caught, or die. Schulman. Carlson. Now Silver. It was the logical thing. You don’t retire, you know.”
“You did,” Nick said.
“I wasn’t in the field,” his father said smoothly. “Just an office worker. With a pension. In the field it’s different. You keep going until something happens. But he was never caught. We would have heard that. He had to be dead.”
“But he wasn’t.”
“No. I didn’t know for years. Of course, I wasn’t in a position to know. They reorganized the department again. I had other things to do. But I could still hear the gossip, and I never heard anything.”
“Then how do you know he’s still there?”
“The secretary again. What was her name? You’d think I’d remember. Pani Know-it-all. She finally retired, just before Christmas. They gave her a party.” He caught Nick’s surprise. “They have parties, you know, just like everyone else. A big one this time. Toasts all night. Sturgeon. For a secretary. Maybe they wanted to make sure she wouldn’t come back. Anyway, they invited all the old crowd, those of us who were left.”
“This was here?”
“No, in Moscow. I was there at the time.”
“Why?”
“It’s not important, Nick,” he said, impatient at the interruption. “Anicka had to go. I’m not in prison. I’m allowed to travel.”
“That’s right. I forgot. You have a medal.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “A medal. All the privileges. They gave the secretary one too. Not Lenin,” he added quickly, as if it mattered, “just a service medal. She wore it all night. Pinned here.” He put his hand on his chest. “She was glad to see me. Sentimental. You know how those things are. The good old days. My God, the good old days-Beria. We saw the best of it, she said. Nonsense like that. Tears even, with the drink. So what can you do? You play along. ‘It won’t be the same without you,’ I said. I wonder if she thought I meant it. I suppose so. What else did she have then? A room somewhere out in Sokol? Her medal? ‘You were the last.’ And she nods, the cow. Yes, yes, we were the last. She takes my arm, all tears-I thought she was going to kiss me. ‘Now there’s only Silver,’ she says. ‘He never stops.’ I remember she had my arm and it jerked-I couldn’t help it. ‘I thought he was dead,’ I said. ‘Him?’ She just shook her head, Miss Know-it-all again. ‘Not him. He’s too clever for them. Not like the ones they have now. Amateurs. Not like the old days.’ As if it had been different then,” he said to Nick. “What did she think we were? ‘I can’t believe it,’ I said. ‘All this time.’ She patted my arm, like a child. ‘Yes, just like before,’ she said. ‘Just like before. They don’t retire him.’ And I knew then she’d been forced out-she wanted to die at her desk, I suppose. In the saddle. Nina, that was it. Her name.” He smiled to himself, as if remembering it had been the point of the story.
“And was he?” Nick said. “Still there?”
“Oh, yes. I checked. I still have some friends inside-I saw one of the reports. She was right. It was the same. Same style, same name. So I knew he was operating again. He’s still there, Nick. The one who sent me here. And now I know how to get him. Not Hoover. Me.”
Nick waited, but his father seemed to have finished.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“So you would know it’s not just for me. In case-” He hesitated. “I didn’t know if you would do it for me.”
Nick felt the soft words like a slap. In case.
“Do what?”
“I told you. I need your help. To come out.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Yes. It’s possible.”
“What am I supposed to do? Hide you in a trunk and drive across the border?”
“No,” his father said steadily. “I would never put you at risk, never. You believe that, don’t you? I want you to take a message, that’s all.”
“That’s all,” Nick repeated dully.
“Something for your country,” his father said. “Call it that. You were a soldier. You were willing to-now, just take a message. I can expose Silver. It’s important. Do it for that, not for me.”
Nick was quiet, following his father’s logic. “Sort of a patriotic act,” he said finally, his voice unexpectedly sarcastic. “One for our side.”
“Yes, one for your side.”
“And whose side are you on now?”
He meant to provoke, unable to stop himself, but his father just shrugged. “Sides. We both lost this war. What was it all about-does anybody know? Like the statues. Hussites. Catholics. No one remembers. What war?”
“You’re living behind barbed wire.”
His father shook his head. “It’s over. Look at us here. All those ideas. Pan-Slavism. Only twenty years ago. Now look. There are half a million troops in Czechoslovakia. We’re at war with ourselves. No idea survives that. And America. Communists in the State Department. Now Communists in Asia. They don’t know it’s already over. We’re fighting our children now. That’s how it’s ending for both of us.”
Nick said nothing, surprised at the outburst. What had he been like young, before everything turned to disappointment?
“Then let it go. Make peace.”
“I can’t,” his father said, quiet again. “I can’t let it go. For me it’s personal.” His voice picked up, ironic. “But for you. A spoil of war for your side. I owe that much.”
