left hand, watching the large cats and waiting. He didn't bother checking his watch.
'Hello, Charles,' a voice said beside him.
'Hello, Sergey.'
'I do not know you,' the rezident observed.
'This conversation is unofficial,' Ritter explained.
'Aren't they all?' Sergey noted. He started walking. Any single place could be bugged, but not a whole zoo. For that matter, his contact could be wearing a wire, though that would not have been in accordance with the rules, such as they were. He and Ritter walked downthe gentle paved slope to the next animal exhibit, with the rezident 's security guard in close attendance.
'I just returned from Vietnam,' the CIA officer said.
'Warmer there than here.'
'Not at sea. It's rather pleasant out there.'
'The purpose of your cruise?' therezideat asked.
'A visit, an unplanned one.'
'I believe it failed,' the Russian said, not tauntingly, just letting 'Charles' know that he knew what was going on.
'Not completely. We brought someone home with us.'
'Who might that be?'
'His name is Nikolay.' Ritter handed over Grishanov's paybook. 'It would be an embarrassment to your government if it were to be revealed that a Soviet officer was interrogating American POWs.'
'Not a great embarrassment,' Sergey replied, flipping briefly through the paybook before pocketing it.
'Well, actually it would be. You see, the people he's been interrogating have been reported as being dead by your little friends.'
'I don't understand.' He was telling the truth, and Ritter had to explain for a few minutes. 'I did not know any of that,' Sergey said after hearing the facts of the matter.
'It's true, I assure you. You will be able to verify it through your own means.' And he would, of course. Ritter knew that, and Sergey knew that he knew.
'And where is our colonel?'
'In a safe place. He's enjoying better hospitality than our people are.'
'Colonel Grishanov hasn't dropped bombs on anyone,' the Russian pointed out.
'That is true, but he did take part in a process that will end with the death of American prisoners, and we have hard evidence that they are alive. As I said earlier, a potential embarrassment for your government.'
Sergey Voloshin was a highly astute political observer and didn't need this young CIA officer to tell him that. He could also see where this discussion was headed.
'What do you propose?'
'It would be helpful if your govemrnent could persuade Hanoi to restore these men to life, as it were. That is, to take them to the same prison where the other prisoners are, and make the proper notifications so that their families will know they are alive after all. In return for that Colonel Grishanov will be returned unharmed, and uninterrogated.'
'I will forward that proposal to Moscow.' With a favorable endorsement, his tone said clearly.
'Please be quick. We have reason to believe that the Vietnamese may be contemplating something drastic to relieve themselves of the potential embarrassment. That would be a very serious complication,' Ritter warned.
'Yes, I suppose it would be.' He paused. 'Your assurance that Colonel Grishanov is alive and well?'
'I can have you to him in... oh, about forty minutes if you wish. Do you think I would lie about something as important as this?'
'No, I do not. But some questions must be asked.'
'Yes, Sergey Ivan'ch, I know that. We have no wish to harm your colonel. He seems to have behaved rather honorably in his treatment of our people. He was also a very effective interrogator. I have his notes.' Ritter added, 'The offer to meet with him is open if you wish to make use of it.'
Voloshin thought about it, seeing the trap. Such an offer, if taken, would have to be reciprocated, because that's the way things were. To call Ritter's hand on this would commit his own government to something, and Voloshin didn't want to do that without guidance. Besides, it would be madness for CIA to lie in a case like this. Those prisoners could always be made to disappear. Only the goodwill of the Soviet Union could save them, and only the continuance of that goodwill would keep them healthy.
'I will take you at your word, Mister -'
'Ritter, Bob Ritter.'
'Ah! Budapest.'
Ritter grinned rather sheepishly. Well, after all he'd done to set his agent out, it was clear that he'd never go back into the field again, at least not in any place that mattered - which for Ritter started at the River Elbe. The Russian poked him in the chest.
'You did well getting your man out. I commend you on your loyalty to your agent.' Most of all Voloshin respected him for the risk he'd taken, something not possible in the KGB.
'Thank you, General. And thank you for responding to my proposal. When can I call you?'
'I'll need two days... shall I call you?'
'Forty- eight hours from now. I'll make the call.'
'Very well. Good day.' They shook hands like the professionals they were: Voloshin walked back to his driver/bodyguard and headed back to the car. Their walk had ended up at the enclosure for the Kodiak bear, large, brown, and powerful. Had that been an accident? Ritter wondered.
On the walk back to his car he realized that the whole thing had been an accident of sorts. On the strength of this play, Ritter would become a section chief. Failed rescue mission or not, he'd just negotiated an important concession with the Russians, and it had all happened because of the presence of mind of a man younger than himself, scared and on the run, who'd taken the time to think. He wanted people like that in the Agency, and now he had the clout to bring him in. Kelly had demurred and temporized on the flight back from Hawaii. Okay, so he'd need a little convincing. He'd have to work with Jim Greer on that, but Ritter decided on the spot that his next mission was to bring Kelly in from the cold, or the heat, or whatever you called it.
'How well do you know Mrs O'Toole?' Ryan asked.
'Her husband's dead,' the neighbor said. 'He went to Vietnam right after they bought the house, and then he was killed. Such a nice young man, too. She's not in any trouble, is she?'
The detective shook his head. 'No, not at all. I've only heard good things about her.'
'It's been awful busy over there,' the elderly lady went on. She was the perfect person to talk to, about sixty- five, a widow with nothing to do who compensated for the empty space in her life by keeping track of everyone else's. With a little reassurance that she wasn't hurting anyone, she'd relate everything she knew.
'What do you mean?'
'I think she had a houseguest a while back. She sure was shopping a lot more than usual. She's such a nice, pretty girl. It's so sad about her husband. She really ought to start dating again. I'd like to tell her, but I don't want her to think I'm nosy. Anyway, she was shopping a lot, and somebody else came almost every day, stayed overnight a lot, even.'
'Who was that?' Ryan asked, sipping his iced tea.
'A woman, short like me, but heavier, messy hair. She drove a big car, a red Buick, I think, and it had a sticker- thing on the windshield. Oh! That's right!'
'What's that?' Ryan asked.
'I was out with my roses when the girl came out, that's when I saw the sticker-thing.'
'Girl?' Ryan asked innocently.
'That's who she was shopping for!' the elderly lady said, pleased with herself for the sudden discovery. 'She bought clothes for her, I bet. I remember the Hecht Company bags.'
'Can you tell me what the girl looked like?'
'Young, like nineteen or twenty, dark hair. Kinda pale, like she was sick. They drove away, when was that...? Oh, I remember. It's the day my new roses came from the nursery. The eleventh. The truck came very early because I don't like the heat, and I was out there working when they came out. I waved at Sandy. She's such a nice
