cling to life. So you appealed to your father, the other one. A man close to the President.”
“What?”
“Yes, to Larry. No one else. He can make the deal, arrange things. I’ll tell you what to say.”
The surprise of it made Nick feel giddy, as if a missed step were pitching him farther down. “Larry,” he said, trying to catch himself. “Why Larry?”
“Because he can do it. Arrange things. And he’ll believe you. He’ll know it’s not a trick.”
“No,” Nick said quickly, not wanting to hear the rest. “You don’t know what you’re asking. He can’t.” Isn’t it enough to involve me? He saw the mad plan spreading like a stain, touching everybody.
“I know what I’m asking. Do you think I would ask him if I didn’t have to? He took my family.” An edge, finally, in his calm voice, a bitterness not quite put away. “But now that’s an advantage. He owes me this much. One favor. He’ll do it.” He paused. “He’ll do it for you.”
And I’ll do it for you. A link snapping shut in a chain. Every link already assigned.
“It’s the right story,” his father continued, not seeing Nick’s face fall. “Pentiakowsky for an old spy? Never. But I’m not just an old spy. I have friends in high places.” He stopped. “A son in high places. Lucky for me, but even luckier for Moscow. To get Pentiakowsky back for a political favor? A stupid trade-but Americans can be stupid that way. Sentimental.” He looked at Nick. “They’ll believe you. Not just a messenger, you see. There is no story without you.”
Nick looked at the ground, feeling his chest tighten, his breath grow short. “You have it all worked out,” he said, thinking, all of us, he’ll use all of us. “What makes you think Larry will do it?”
“He wouldn’t. He’s not sentimental. Or his boss. It’s only the story, Nick. For Moscow. The truth is that I have to give them something.”
“Something valuable.”
His father nodded. “More valuable than Pentiakowsky. Then they’ll do it. It’s the only way.”
“Then why would Moscow let you go?”
“They don’t know I have it. They’ll be suspicious-that’s their nature-but they won’t know. There’s no trace- I’ve been careful. No one knows. Only you.”
“Not yet.”
“No, not yet.”
Nick waited, his silence an unspoken demand. His father looked back toward the open square, then wet his lips, an old man’s nervous gesture.
“I’m going to give them what they always wanted. Names. In America. I have a list. And documents.” He saw the dismay in Nick’s face. “I have to pay, Nick. You don’t get a fatted calf, not in real life. What else do I have?”
“And what happens to them, the people on your list?”
His father shrugged. “They’ll be replaced. Then it begins all over again. But meanwhile-”
“You get Silver,” Nick finished.
His father shook his head. “Not yet. But they can lead me to him. One of them. There’s a pattern, you see. People don’t change. There’s always a pattern if you can find it.”
“And you did.”
“I think so.” His father looked at him carefully, then said, “You disapprove.”
“They’re your people.”
“My people,” he said, almost scornfully. “Yes. Agents expect it, you know, sooner or later. Somebody always gives it away. What do you want me to say, Nick? That it’s not a dirty business?” He looked away. “It never seems so in the beginning. You just think you’re doing the right thing, like a soldier. But in the end-”
His voice drifted and Nick followed it down the gray street, unable to look at him.
“So you do want me to take something,” he said quietly. “The documents.”
“No, of course not. I would never put you at risk. I told you that. Anyway, they’re a passport for me. I take them.”
“Then how will Larry know that all this is for real?”
His father looked at him curiously, as if Nick hadn’t been listening. “Because it’s you. He’ll believe you.”
Nick’s chest, already tight, seemed to clench further. Not just a messenger.
“You see how important-that no one know. Just the fact of it, that such a list exists, is dangerous for me.” His father paused. “Now you.”
“Are you trying to frighten me?”
“No, protect you. I’ll tell you what to say when you leave, not before. Just in case. Who Larry should contact. No one else, just the principals. He must understand this. Everyone talks. On both sides. But if we move quickly-”
“Before your names can run for cover, you mean,” Nick said. “Your chips.”
“No,” he said, cut by the edge in Nick’s voice. “Before the leaks. There are always leaks. Before he knows. I wouldn’t be safe here.”
“You won’t be safe there either. They’ll know it was you.”
“That depends. Sometimes it’s better to let people stay in place for a while.”
“To watch them.”
His father nodded. “Or turn them. It’s been known to happen.”
“Come play on our side,” Nick said evenly. “Your choice.”
“Nick-”
“Do you know them, the people you’re going to sell?”
“No.”
“That must make it easier.”
“Yes, it does.” He looked at Nick steadily. “Your scruples are misplaced,” he said, his voice cool, a kind of reprimand. Then, backing down, “Nick, it’s the only way.” He turned, wanting to bring it to an end. “Walk with me. I’ll be late.”
Nick stared at his back, the familiar hunch of his shoulders, then took a step, pulled along.
“And what if they don’t leave them in place? Then what happens?”
“What you’d expect. The usual scurrying.”
“I mean, what happens to you? Your life wouldn’t be worth-”
“Like the old Comintern days? Send someone out to deal with me? Not anymore. I’ll be all right, once I’m there.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
He smiled a little. “Never bet against yourself, Nick.” Nick glanced up, recognizing it, his old rule of thumb, when they played cards at the cabin. “That sort of thing’s a little old-fashioned, even for the comrades. I’ll be all right, if we move quickly.”
“How quickly? Larry’s in Paris. You know, at the peace talks. He won’t be able to just drop everything.”
“To negotiate for me? Yes, he will. Nobody wants peace. But they’ll want this.”
I don’t want it, Nick thought, so clearly that for a second it seemed he’d said it out loud. But his father’s face, eager, full of plans, registered nothing, and Nick looked away before it could show on his own, the one betrayal his father did not expect. And was it true? Maybe it would be different later, when it was over. Maybe it was this he didn’t want, the plotting and covered tracks, looking over his shoulder, the tired city, gray, expecting the worst.
“Then why wait?” he said suddenly, an escape hatch. “I could go this afternoon.”
“This afternoon?” His father turned to him. “So soon.”
“What’s the difference? Nobody knows I’m here anyway.”
“But they will later. They’ll check. Visa dates. The hotel. It has to look right. It wouldn’t make sense, your coming for a day. That’s not a visit.” He stopped. “Besides, I don’t want you to leave.”
“But the sooner we-”
“Just in case.”
“In case what?”
“In case.”
“Don’t bet against yourself,” Nick said,
