fat-bellied tug that seemed inadequate for the job. What about his adequacy for the job towards which he was now being prematurely pushed? At the self-question the nervousness positively vibrated through him, making the supposed recall cable shake in his hand. Despite all the training he didn’t really know what was to come: they had only been able to guess and to suggest and now the moment was here – the moment he had grown increasingly frightened would actually arrive – it all seemed utterly insufficient. Enough uncertainties then, without the inexplicable complication of Natalia trapped in Moscow. It could only be a mistake, an oversight. But there was no way he could query it, get it resolved before he had to move, because to everyone at the UN mission his defection had to appear genuine. Just as the need for absolute security dictated it had to appear that way to almost everyone in Dzerzhinsky Square, as well. So he was trapped, like Natalia, before he even began. Why! agonized Levin. Why! Why! Why!
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the river view, striving for control before he confronted the rezident, which protocol decreed he do immediately. He contacted Vadim Dolya on the internal telephone and as he expected the rezident agreed to see him within thirty minutes; although the cable was designated for his attention only, Levin knew a copy would have been sent separately to the controller, who would therefore have been waiting for the approach. Levin replaced one receiver and looked at the other, the outside line, wanting to speak to Galina but never forgetting the standard, insisted-upon procedure always was to act in the belief that open Soviet connections in the United Nations were monitored by the FBI. Which after all would have been a sensible precaution for America’s counter-intelligence service to take. Russians attached to the UN had the status of international civil servants, were not governed by the radius-to-city limitations imposed upon other Soviet installations within the United States and so it was regarded – and used – by the KGB and GRU as the most important intelligence base anywhere in the world.
Levin left his cramped office to make his way to the more spacious quarters of the UN’s mineral resources unit, where his official designation as economic affairs officer had enabled him during his tenure to advise Dzerzhinsky Square of every major – and some not so major – natural mineral deposit in Western and Third World countries. He made the pretence of looking at the incoming mail and the diary of that day’s events, relieved there were no committee meetings demanding his presence, and left for the appointment with Dolya still with time to spare. Always being on time was a trait of Levin’s, which sometimes surprised people who did not know him well because he was a shambling, untidy man, stray-haired and baggily suited; not someone who would immediately appear a stickler for appointments. But then Yevgennie Levin’s entire training had been to appear different from the person he was. And forever had to remain.
Dolya’s attachment – and cover – was to the UN’s peace and security studies section, but they did not meet there because the precautions against eavesdropping extended beyond telephone lines to include the offices they occupied. Instead they talked as most of the other delegations talked when they sought conversations they did not want overheard, pacing head-bent the wide, art-donated and decorated corridors of the skyscraper building.
‘Back to Moscow, then?’ said Dolya, at once. In contrast to Levin, the rezident was a fussily neat, bespectacled man given to studying his reflection in passing mirrors, constantly to ensure everything about himself was properly in place.
‘Earlier than I expected,’ said Levin. It was essential – safer – always to be as honest as possible. So much to remember!
‘The normal tour is two years,’ pointed out Dolya.
‘I have only been here eighteen months,’ said Levin.
‘No indication of any posting beyond Moscow?’
If there had been it would have breached security to have disclosed it to Dolya, which the man knew, and Levin was surprised at the question. He wondered what would happen to the man after the defection: he was a required victim. Levin said: ‘None at all.’
‘You’ll be missed,’ said Dolya.
Levin guessed there was truth as well as politeness in the platitude. His posting within the minerals section had provided Moscow with an enormous amount of information from which the government ministries had been able to make economic calculations and assessments extending at least three years into the future, particularly involving their own oil and natural gas deposits. Matching platitude with platitude Levin said: ‘I shall miss being here.’ Then he added: ‘The recall stipulates two weeks.’
‘I will inform the secretariat: see that all the necessary paperwork is completed,’ assured Dolya. On apparent impulse he added: ‘And maybe a farewell party. Nothing too large: just a few friends. Galina would be included, of course.’
‘That would be kind,’ said Levin. There was the vaguest stir of guilt at cheating the other man.
‘Has Galina enjoyed it here?’
‘Very much.’
‘And the children?’
‘It’s been a different experience.’ Natalia! he thought. Why did there have to be this stupidity with Natalia!
‘Perhaps whatever you do next will be as worthwhile,’ said Dolya.
‘I hope so,’ said Levin, with more feeling than the other man would ever know.
‘Is there anything else I can do apart from the bureaucratic formalities?’ offered Dolya generously.
‘Nothing,’ said Levin. Poor bastard, he thought.
‘You’ll be taking back as much electrical stuff as possible?’ anticipated Dolya, because every returning Russian did. ‘I’ll tell dispatch so they can arrange shipment. Don’t forget to buy an electrical converter: it’s surprising how many people do.’
‘I’ll remember,’ undertook Levin. Why should he feel the hypocrite he did? He was making a greater sacrifice for Russia than Dolya ever would.
‘Don’t just buy the article itself,’ urged the rezident, enjoying the role of expert. ‘Get spares, as well, for when it goes wrong.’
They had walked the complete circle of the building, arriving back where they started, and Levin knew the other man expected the conversation to end: take-home spoils were always the conclusion of such encounters. He said: ‘There is something. I would like to take Galina out, sometimes, during the last few evenings.’ Despite their supposed status in the United Nations, the Soviet Union did not regard its nationals as unfettered international diplomats. They were bussed daily to and from the securely guarded compound at Riverdale, in the South Bronx, and their whereabouts at all times logged in movement books both there and throughout the UN building, so permission for any change from normal had to be granted.
The KGB rezident looked up sharply from his head-bent stance against any directional microphone intercept or visual lipreading and said: ‘Take her out!’
Levin felt a jump of unease. ‘A restaurant. The theatre, maybe…’ He smiled, inviting the other man’s understanding after the lecture on the superiority of American consumer goods. ‘Whatever or wherever the next posting, I doubt it will be anything like New York.’
‘It could be London? Paris?’ suggested Dolya.
‘Still not the same.’ Please don’t let the imbecile become suspicious, not at this moment! Another contingency for which no allowance had been made.
Dolya smiled, an expression as abrupt as his looking up from the protective conversation. ‘You’re right,’ he agreed. ‘Nothing is quite like New York.’
‘You approve it?’
‘Of course.’
‘Two or three nights, that’s all.’
‘Advise me in advance.’
Levin wondered how deeply the local KGB chief would later personally regret this particular acquiescence: he sincerely hoped it would not be too bad for the man. He said: ‘Of course. Every time.’
‘Travel safely, Yevgennie Pavlovich.’
Of everything that had happened on this uncertain day, the unexpected invocation of one of the oldest Russian proverbs came close to causing Levin’s open collapse. He swallowed against the sensation, feigning a cough so that he could raise a hand to his mouth to cover his distress from the other man. ‘To return to be your companion again, Vadim Alekseevich,’ he said, completing the rote-like ritual. He listened intently to the sound of
