“You’re damn right he’s nervous being in Moscow. And you would be, too, if you had any sense.”
“How’s our local station chief?”
“He looks a little better than Yaakov, but not much. Let’s just say he’ll be quite happy when we get on that plane tomorrow night and get out of town.”
“How many cars was he able to come up with?”
“Four, just like you wanted-three old Ladas and a Volga.”
“Please tell me they run, Uzi. The last thing we need is for the cars to break down tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry, Gabriel. They run just fine.”
“Where did he get them?”
“The station picked up a small fleet of old Soviet cars and trucks for a song after the fall of communism and put them on ice. All the papers are in order.”
“And the drivers?”
“Four field hands from Moscow Station. They all speak Russian.”
“What time do we start leaving the hotel?”
“I go first at two-fifty. Eli goes five minutes after that. Then Yaakov five minutes later. You’re the last to leave.”
“It’s not much time, Uzi.”
“It’s plenty of time. If we get here too early, we might attract unwanted attention. And that’s the last thing we want.”
Gabriel didn’t argue. Instead, he peppered Navot with a series of questions about cell phone jammers, watch assignments, and, finally, the situation at the apartment house on the Kutuzovsky Prospekt where Elena was now staying with her mother. Navot’s answer did not surprise him.
“Arkady Medvedev has placed the building under round-the-clock surveillance.”
“How’s he doing it?”
“Nothing too technical. Just a man in a car outside in the street.”
“How often is he changing the watcher?”
“Every four hours.”
“Does he change the car or just the man?”
“Just the man. The car stays in place.”
Gabriel adjusted his tinted eyeglasses. His gray wig was making his scalp itch terribly. Navot was rubbing a sore patch above his elbow. He always seemed to develop some small physical malady whenever he was anxious about an operation.
“We should assume that Arkady has instructed the watchers to follow Elena wherever she goes, including tomorrow afternoon when she leaves for the airport. If the watcher sees her making an unannounced detour to the House on the Embankment, he’ll tell Arkady. And Arkady is bound to be suspicious. Do you see my point, Gabriel?”
“Yes, Uzi,” Gabriel said pedantically. “I believe I do. We have to make sure the watcher doesn’t follow her tomorrow or all our work could go up in flames in a Moscow minute.”
“I suppose we could kill him.”
“A minor traffic accident should suffice.”
“Shall I tell the station chief that we need another Lada?”
“What kind of car are the watchers using?”
'An S-Class Mercedes.”
“That’s not really a fair fight, is it?”
“Not really.”
“We’d better make it an official car, then. Something that can take a punch. Tell the station chief we want to borrow the ambassador’s limo. Come to think of it, tell him we want the ambassador, too. He’s really quite good, you know.”
Elena Kharkov had left her mother’s apartment just one time that day, a fact that Arkady Medvedev and his watchers found neither alarming nor even the slightest bit noteworthy. The outing had been brief: a quick drive to a glittering new gourmet market up the street, where, accompanied by two of her bodyguards, she had purchased the ingredients for a summer borscht. She had spent the remainder of the afternoon in the kitchen with her mother, playfully bickering over recipes, the way they always had done when Elena was young.
By evening, the soup had chilled sufficiently to eat. Mother and daughter sat together at the dining-room table, a candle and a loaf of black bread between them, images of the president’s rally in Dinamo Stadium playing silently on the television in the next room. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since Elena’s arrival in Moscow, yet her mother had assiduously avoided any discussion of the reason behind the unorthodox visit. She broached the topic now for the first time, not with words but by gently laying Elena’s letter upon the table. Elena looked at it a moment, then resumed eating.
“You’re in trouble, my love.”
“No, Mama.”
“Who was the man you sent to deliver this letter?”
“He’s a friend. Someone who’s helping me.”
“Helping you with what?”
Elena was silent.
“You’re leaving your husband?”
“Yes, Mama, I’m leaving my husband.”
“Has he hurt you?”
“Badly.”
“Did he hit you?”
“No, never.”
“Is there another woman?”
Elena nodded, eyes on her food. “She’s just a child of nineteen. I’m sure Ivan will hurt her one day, too.”
“You should have never married him. I begged you not to marry him, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”
“I know.”
“He’s a monster. His father was a monster and he’s a monster.”
“I know.” Elena tried to eat some of the soup but had lost her appetite. “I’m sorry the children and I haven’t been spending more time with you the last few years. Ivan wouldn’t let us. It’s no excuse. I should have stood up to him.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Elena. I know more than you think I know.”
A tear spilled onto Elena’s cheek. She brushed it away before her mother could see it. “I’m very sorry for the way I’ve behaved toward you. I hope you can forgive me.”
“I forgive you, Elena. But I don’t understand why you came to Moscow like this.”
“I have to take care of some business before I leave Ivan. I have to protect myself and the children.”
“You’re not thinking about taking his money?”
“This has nothing to do with money.”
Her mother didn’t press the issue. She was a Party wife. She knew about secrets and walls.
“When are you planning to tell him?”
“Tomorrow night.” Elena paused, then added pointedly: “When I return to France.”
“Your husband isn’t the sort of man who takes bad news well.”
“No one knows that better than I do.”
“Where are you planning to go?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Will you stay in Europe or will you come home to Russia?”
“It might not be safe for me in Russia anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I might have to take the children someplace where Ivan can’t find them. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
The Party wife understood perfectly. “Am I ever going to see them again, Elena? Am I ever going to see my
