Nadia moved closer to him then, hoping to distract him from the business of business, and refocus his attention on the business of pleasure. “Soon,” he said as he pushed her roughly away. “As soon as I finish dealing with this lamentable mess.” Then he turned his attention back to the phone. It rang — on the minister’s private line, so no secretary would remember the call. Five rings, and then he heard an irritated greeting. He responded in kind.
“Hello, Mr. Minister,” he said.
“Vostov? Are you insane, calling me at my office?”
“I’ll make it brief.”
“That isn’t the point. This connection isn’t secure—”
“Listen to me, Minister. I don’t like politics, and I’m beginning to regret having gotten tangled up in this business. But men have to live with their choices.”
“Would you quit sounding philosophical, and come to the point? And remember, we’re possibly not alone here.”
“Fine, then. I’m going to give you some advice,” Vostov said. “Do whatever you want with it, but I suggest you at least pay attention.”
“All right, all right. What is it?”
“Our associate abroad feels he’s being neglected at your end. He says—”
“The man is no associate of mine. Merely a mover of goods, who is in turn moved by others.”
“Whatever. You’ve been dodging his calls, or so he claims. And I think it’s important that you talk to him.”
“Vostov, can’t you see I’m trying to lay some groundwork here? I don’t have to jump at his whim. If he thinks he can have carte blanche with my time now, I can only imagine his future impositions. And those of his shadow masters.”
“Talk to him, Minister. Pacify him. I don’t want the man on my back.”
“And I don’t like the idea of him playing us against each other. He’ll wait until I’m ready to speak to him, and he can fuck himself in the meantime.”
“Look, you must understand that he’s capable of turning this whole damn thing on its head—”
“We have enough to occupy our minds without being concerned with him. 1 have intelligence about that American operation in Kaliningrad. Something may be going on there that could spell trouble, although I don’t know precisely what it is. We must be prepared to take quick action should the need arise. I think, under these circumstances, it’s time for you to make yourself useful.”
“That’s not my business. I’ve already done—”
“You’ll do more. I’ll require supplies. Equipment. Perhaps even manpower. Don’t make the error of thinking you can wash your hands of this now.”
“Fucking politics. As I said before, I never should have let myself become involved in it.”
“One can’t help but be, Vostov. Life is politics. From the time we’re children competing with our siblings for our parents’ attention, trying to outgrab one another for what we desire. I’m convinced that’s when the betrayals begin. The family is a Judas circle, the brother we love is our enemy, eh?”
“I don’t know. You’re losing me.”
“Am I? Well, just don’t forget you were on that boat in Khabarovsk.”
“Is that everything?” Vostov inquired with some sarcasm.
“No. 1 need you to utilize your many contacts, as much as I may despise them. It seems that it’s time to cloud the landscape a bit. There are factions out there that might very well share our common goal. I think it would be wise to turn the bright light of public scrutiny on them.”
“What do you mean?” Vostov asked.
“The nationalists, the separatists, the Communists, and the reformers all have an interest in blocking foreign aid. I believe it’s time that someone pointed this out to them, hmm? And the military and the KGB, unfairly squeezed out from distributing the largesse of our enemies — and so prevented from raking off their percentage from the top. Don’t you think someone should ask them how they feel about this and what they plan to do about it? Even the church and organized crime have something at stake here. My dear Vostov, the more pressure Starinov and the West are under, the sooner we’ll achieve our ultimate goals. Your tentacles reach everywhere. I think that you should use them.”
“What you’re asking—” Vostov spluttered, “it’s hardly the work of a few moments.”
“Then I’d suggest you get started immediately. Remember, Vostov, a man who won’t make himself useful is a man who is expendable. Now is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”
“You haven’t given me an answer on the matter I called you about. The mover of goods, as you called him —”
“I said he can go
“Wait, don’t hang up. Hello? Are you still there? Goddamn it, are you still there? Hello, hello,
“Damn.”
A slight sound drew his attention back to the women, now huddled in the corner and looking slightly fearful.
“Well, what are you two staring at? Get over here and make yourselves useful.” That was the phrase the man on the phone had used.
TWENTY-THREE
Wearing a gray sweatsuit, a Baltimore Orioles baseball cap, and Nikes, Alex Nordstrum jogged west through the Mall, a look of quiet concentration on his features as his long legs carried him over the path with unbroken rhythm. He was past the midway point of his run and his blood felt pumped with oxygen and the muscles of his thighs and calves were pleasantly loose.
Arms moving in smooth coordination with his feet, he ran on toward Constitution Gardens and the conspicuous marble shaft of the Washington Monument, where he would ordinarily swing back east to complete his regular two-mile circuit. Today he might have to wait around a bit, depending on whether Blake was on time… which Nordstrum doubted would be his good fortune, considering the assistant secretary of state, Foreign Affairs Bureau, was someone whose internal clock had seemed to have its workings irreparably gummed up even when he was Alex’s top poli-sci student at Georgetown.
Nordstrum trotted along at an easy pace, seeing no reason to hurry. North of the park, the massive cluster of Federal Triangle buildings extended continuously to Fifteenth Street, their red rooftops visible through the winter- bare treetops. To the south, Nordstrum could see the white colonnades and porticoes of the Department of Agriculture Building. Vapor puffed from his mouth with each measured breath but his metabolism was up and he was hardly aware of the cold Potomac gusts snapping moisture off his cheeks and forehead. The back of his sweatshirt was dark with perspiration between his shoulder blades, a good, healthy sweat, the kind that always seemed to wash the tension from his pores.
To his right, well-dressed men and women swept past in expensive cars, most turning north or south on Seventeenth Street for the downtown museums and government buildings, a smaller percentage of the traffic continuing past the Reflecting Pool to where Constitution Avenue became Route 66 and spooled on out across the bridge to Arlington. Maybe a mile behind Nordstrum, morning sunlight fanned over the Capitol dome in golden spokes that had already begun to glance off the red brick turrets of Smithsonian Castle. In the broad stretch of landscaping he’d covered on his way down the Hill, walkers and joggers were strung out along the paths at various stages of their exercise routines, squirrels and pigeons were squabbling over sparse winter pickings, and
