David Proctor kept the monthly appointment upon which Levin had insisted, striding hand outstretched into the debriefing den and repeating ‘Yevgennie, it’s good to see you, Yevgennie’ several times before releasing the Russian. As soon as the FBI man sat down, his spectacles began their on-off movement, to be polished and repolished.
‘What news about Natalia?’ demanded Levin at once.
Proctor frowned towards the debriefer. ‘Didn’t Billy tell you about the letter agreement?’
‘Sure did,’ said Bowden at once.
‘I meant about her coming here.’
‘Give us time, Yevgennie!’ pleaded Proctor. ‘We’re practically moving at the speed of light as it is.’
‘It doesn’t seem so to me.’
Proctor put his spectacles briefly into place and said: ‘It’s come good, Yevgennie.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We caught Lubiako, red-handed,’ announced the American.
‘When?’
‘Two nights ago,’ disclosed Proctor. ‘We were letting him run, as you know. But keeping him under the tightest surveillance. Our people followed him directly from the United Nations and out to Newark airport. Nabbed him actually making the exchange with a junior technician at a company holding a whole bunch of defence contracts with the Pentagon.’
Dzerzhinsky Square were prepared to sacrifice a very great deal, Levin thought. He said: ‘What happens now?’
‘Moscow is making a song and dance. We’ll arraign Lubiako but I guess we’ll have to agree to a swap. We usually do. But it means we’ve taken some bastard traitor out of circulation at one of our defence plants.’
‘I’m glad it worked out for you,’ said Levin.
‘Time to move on a little now,’ announced Proctor.
‘Move on?’
‘We’re going to tell the CIA what you told us,’ came in Bowden.
Levin kept any reaction from showing, the almost immediate excitement balanced by his finally understanding why the delay had occurred. They had wanted one of the KGB agents he had identified positively to be proven an operative – and by so doing provide further proof of his own genuineness – before making any approach to the sister agency. Cautiously he said: ‘I am surprised you kept it from them.’
‘Reasons, Yevgennie, reasons,’ said Proctor. ‘It’ll mean they’ll want to see you.’
Time for awkwardness, decided Levin. He said: ‘I’ve been promised a letter from Natalia. But I haven’t received one yet. And we don’t know what to do with those we’ve written to her.’
‘Why I’m here,’ said Proctor glibly. ‘Your mission…’ He hesitated, smiling again. ‘… Your old mission,’ he qualified, ‘have agreed to the correspondence being exchanged through the United Nations. Give me what you’ve got and I’ll take them back to Manhattan with me tonight.’
‘And Natalia’s, to us?’
‘I’ll come up as soon as anything arrives. My word.’
‘I had expected to hear by now,’ protested Levin. It was not difficult for him to appear disgruntled.
‘I’m sure it’ll be soon,’ soothed Bowden. ‘What we’d like to settle today is cooperation with the CIA.’
‘What sort of cooperation?’
‘Your telling the Agency everything you know. We can assure them that you will, can’t we?’
‘It will be safe?’ demanded Levin, maintaining the pretence of a nervous defector.
‘You surely don’t need any proof of that?’ said Proctor. ‘You’re armour plated.’
‘How will it be done?’
‘Still to be decided between us,’ said Bowden. Imagining the reassurance was necessary, he said: ‘But you’re not to worry. You’ll be absolutely protected whatever the arrangement.’
‘Of course I’ll cooperate,’ said Levin, apparently conceding. Guessing how much the FBI would want it, he added hurriedly to Proctor: ‘But however it’s done, I want either you or Billy with me. I don’t want to be with people I don’t know.’
From the other men’s immediate and smiling response Levin knew he’d guessed correctly.
Proctor said: ‘You’re going to insist on that?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Then we’ll be with you, every step of the way,’ guaranteed Bowden. The FBI would have sought positive involvement: Levin was their catch, to be shared but not taken over.
‘You will bring anything from Natalia, the moment it arrives, won’t you?’
‘My word,’ promised Proctor again.
Always a quick undertaking, thought Levin. He said: ‘And something else. We’re cooped up here like prisoners. Aren’t we allowed some sort of outing?’
‘Why not?’ agreed Proctor at once.
At last things were moving, thought Levin. Literally.
Establishing that a Caroline Dixon worked at an advertising agency occupying three floors of the skyscraper block near Madison and 46th Street was almost overly simplistic: Yuri telephoned the number, was assured an executive of that name was employed there and was available and hung up before he was connected to her extension.
He snaked his zig-zag way from the UN, doubly, redoubly and then again retracing his own route. Finally satisfied he was alone he was in position just up from the cross-street junction by 4.30 in the afternoon, aware as he established himself he had no idea what time she would leave.
It was 6.45 before she did, by which time he had had to shift positions four times to avoid drawing attention to himself by loitering, which was not the immediate focus of anger. The woman who left, laughing, was the Caroline Dixon. And she was hand-in-hand with a bespectacled, three-button-suited, clip-collared, club-tied man with a short haircut and vacation-determined tan. Why irritation? he demanded from himself at once. The purpose of the expedition was to confirm that the person whom he had encountered at the 53rd Street safe house was who she claimed to be. Nothing else apart from being sure: ridiculous to be irritated.
He was lucky to halt a cab almost in procession to theirs, stumbling his uncertainty about a destination by saying he was unsure of the address he wanted, gesturing the man in pursuit of the vehicle one hundred yards ahead and saved any positive difficulty by their stopping at a bar just two streets and three blocks away. There was another bar, practically opposite, and he got a window bench and sat with a club soda growing warm between his hands as Caroline and the man encountered a group that seemed to expect them and with whom they drank, for another hour. Yuri stayed with the one club soda. It was more difficult to follow them the second time, because it was later into the evening and the taxis were not so frequent but again they only went three blocks and on the same avenue this time, so it was a straight-line journey and he never lost sight of them. He thought of following them into the restaurant, confident he could conceal himself in the bar, and then decided it was a pointless pursuit and so he abandoned it, but not at once, lingering for almost an hour for no reason, knowing he was behaving foolishly. Maybe he’d already behaved foolishly, he thought, as he finally hailed yet another cab: maybe he should have taken some precaution against AIDS. It was followed quickly by another thought. How was it that his father couldn’t hate, at being cuckolded as he had been?
19
Panchenko had hinted the emergency was greater than before – and definitely sounded more alarmed – which made avoiding the First Chief Directorate building even more essential than after that other panicked call. Kazin decided against using the car again, instead designating the gazebo overlooking the metro station from Izmaylovo Park. Kazin still travelled there in his official vehicle. It had been years since he’d deigned to use any sort of public transport: ten at least, maybe fifteen. He could still remember the stink of too many bodies crowded together.
Panchenko was already waiting, once more ill at ease in civilian clothes, the same dark topcoat over the
