identify your pursuers and throughout Blair was alert to people close around and when he boarded the train he checked and decided that no one in the immediate carriage had been with him earlier. Which didn’t preclude the following carriage, which was the one he would have chosen if he were conducting the surveillance. To avoid that, he disembarked after two stations, remaining where he was on the platform, so that any follower would have had to get off with him and remain obviously on the station, like he was. No one did. Blair caught the next train to come along, disembarked for the necessary change and still necessary further check and emerged comparatively satisfied at Kiev station, in front of the ferry pier. Blair allowed himself to be carried aboard by the crush of people, not shouldering forward in a way that would have attracted any attention. It was full of trippers and Blair decided if it were to be a genuine meet then Orlov had chosen his protection well. Intentionally Blair set himself on the deck, near a bend in the rail which meant he only had two directions in which to look, still alert for surveillance. As the ferry made its way up river, Blair gazed up at the thrusting colonnades and obelisks commemorating the Battle of Borodino as they passed under the Borodinskiy bridge, and decided it was the most attractive of the river crossing points. The buildings were too tall – not skyscrapers like he knew them but still tall – near the Kalininskiy Bridge. Blair turned away from the bridges, gazing instead across at the Krasnaya Presnya Park, using the movement still to watch everyone around him. He employed the long stretch of the river before the twist under the railway bridge to continue the search and by the time they neared his destination Blair was sure he was clean. He thought the factories along the last section were uniform and depressive but he thought Fili Park looked attractive. Just how attractive, he wondered, would it prove to be for him?
Blair let himself be carried off the ferry as he had boarded it, by the pressure of people around, detaching himself gradually at the end of the pier and staring around. Ahead he could see the larger boats taking the trippers further north, to the beaches at Plyazh. This was the junction point, people and boats going in both directions, a pushing and shoving melee of a place. Good for an ambush as well as an unobserved meeting. Blair wandered, with apparent aimlessness, in reality aware of everything around him. It was chaotic but the proper sort of chaos: there was no artifice, of people put on stage to play their part in a performance in which he was going to become a lead player. Very slightly he relaxed.
There were refreshment stalls and snack bars, under cover and open air. Blair chose one in the open, where he could see everyone around him. Hungry at last he ordered sausage and beer, eating unhurriedly with time to kill. Around him Russians worked hard in their determination to relax and enjoy not working and Blair thought that at this level it was difficult to understand why Russians and Americans each believed the other wanted to annihilate them. OK, the fashions and the accents and the amusements were different – very different – but Blair could see a similarity between this and Coney Island. Or the pier from which he’d taken the kids boating, during the trip home. He wondered how Paul was shaping up, under the programme. He’d averaged a letter a week since he got back and hoped that whatever was going to happen this afternoon would not affect the regularity he’d established. He’d been lectured both by Kemp and Erickson how essential it was for kids to have stability and for things not suddenly to start and just as suddenly to end.
Blair took another beer – just time killing – and left the stall with some still to spare before the scheduled seven o’clock. Everything was normal, he determined, when he got back to Kuntsevo. He was sure of it. Where? he wondered, looking around. As well chosen as it was, the pierhead was still a big area. It was ridiculous his attempting to find Orlov, Blair realised. Orlov would have to find him. Near the onward ticket office there was bench and Blair sat on it, waiting. Back at Langley, station staff would be bitching at having their nights screwed up because some half-assed bigshot in Moscow imagined he was on to something hot, reflected Blair. He wondered if his waiting and their hurried formation would all be a waste of time.
No, realised Blair.
Orlov came enquiringly through the crowd from the just-arrived river boat, staring first towards the refreshment stalls and then, when he looked back, seeing the American. There was no recognition. Orlov did not approach at once but moved to his left, as if unsure in which direction to continue having left the first stage of his journey. A signal or caution? wondered Blair. His concentration was beyond the Russian, watching for any followers. If there were any they were very good, because he couldn’t isolate any. Orlov had dressed down from his usual elegance, which showed thought, but even in the sports jacket and slacks he was noticeable among the other trippers. The approach remained casual and Blair considered the man’s control was good because if the approach were genuine he would be under enormous tension. Orlov sat finally on the bench, not directly beside the American but with space between them. The moves had to start from the Russian, decided Blair, keeping to training.
‘Thank you for coming,’ said Orlov. He spoke looking out towards the river.
Remembering his internal debate at the embassy, Blair said, ‘Did you imagine I wouldn’t?’
‘I didn’t know. I wasn’t certain.’
‘You approached me,’ reminded Blair. Always he had to be extremely careful.
‘I want to go back,’ blurted Orlov.
‘Back?’
‘To America.’
‘You mean you want to defect, Mr Orlov?’ Blair spoke looking out towards the river, too, hoping he was disguising his reaction as well as the Russian had covered his emotions at the moment of approach. He hadn’t been wrong back at the embassy, he thought. Under-estimating, in fact. This would be doubly the most spectacular moment of his career.
Orlov didn’t respond at once, appearing unwilling to confirm the word. ‘I do not consider myself a traitor to my country,’ he said.
‘The Soviet Union will consider you to be.’
Orlov was silent again for several moments and then he said, ‘I will be asked to cooperate? Provide information?’
Like you wouldn’t believe, thought Blair. He said, ‘If you want the United States government to assist you and provide you with protection, which will be necessary, then they would expect cooperation in return.’
‘How much?’ demanded Orlov.
Now it was Blair’s turn to hesitate. He’d never handled a defection before but there were enough records. Usually, in their eagerness to escape, defectors fell over themselves to show what a good catch they’d be. Frequently they boasted an ability to provide information they didn’t have. He said, ‘You can’t expect me to know that.’
‘Considerable?’ persisted Orlov.
‘You are a man of great experience and prestige,’ hedged Blair. ‘I would imagine my government would be extremely interested in having the benefit of that experience.’
‘I am not a traitor,’ repeated Orlov.
‘My country would not consider you one,’ said Blair. Liar, he thought. Defectors were always feted and rewarded and usually looked after but always – deep down – they were despised, as well.
‘Will it be possible?’
‘Of course,’ assured Blair, at once. More than double spectacular, in fact. If he got Orlov out, his own position in Moscow would be untenable. Which meant that he could leave – more importantly, that Ann could leave – well in advance of the minimal period they had expected to be here. But the coup Orlov’s defection would mean for Langley would ensure that all the promises they’d made him would stand. Out before they were due and anything they chose, he thought.
‘When? It must be soon,’ said Orlov, giving the first hint of desperation.
Blair chanced a sideways look and saw that the Russian was sweating, despite his determination for control. He was sweating too, Blair realised. Blair said, ‘I will have to contact Washington, of course. Let them know fully what has happened. I will make all the arrangements.’
‘Good,’ said Orlov, the relief obvious. ‘But soon.’
‘I need to know more, Mr Orlov.’
‘More?’
‘Why do you want to defect?’
Again the word caused the Russian difficulty. He said, ‘It is a personal thing.’
What the hell did that mean? thought Blair. He said, ‘I’m afraid that if we’re going to work together as closely as will be necessary to get you out of the country, there can’t be anything personal.’
‘I don’t want her put under any pressure.’
