They were coming up to the park Simon had passed in the car, the long rectangular pool bordered by allées of linden trees.
“Patriarch’s Pond. There used to be more, three of them, I think. But now just this. Beautiful, isn’t it? I think it’s my favorite place in Moscow. I come here and sit—read, if the weather’s nice.”
“With Boris?”
“Oh, Boris isn’t always around. He’s just making sure of you. That you’re on the up-and-up.”
“As opposed to what?”
“I’ll be right back.”
He huddled for a minute with Boris, who moved off in the direction of the playground, still carrying the string bag with lunch.
“I said we’d meet him on the bench near old Krylov,” Frank said, indicating a big bronze statue.
“Who?”
“Children’s stories. A kind of Russian Aesop. What a lot you don’t know. He can keep an eye on us from there, so he’ll sit tight. And we can talk.”
“It’s like having a nanny.”
“Oh, don’t underestimate Boris. Political officer during the war. At the front. Pure steel. They say the troops were more afraid of them than the Nazis.”
“The bayonet behind you. Still hard to believe they’d do that. To their own people. While the war’s—”
“Nobody deserted. It was a different time.” He caught Simon’s look, but ignored it. “Come on. We don’t have long. Just a walk around the pond.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I wanted to talk to you about Jo. It embarrasses him, anything personal. So we have a little time. It’ll get better, once you’re familiar to him. Sometimes I go off, pick up the mail or something. As long as he knows where I am. Where I’m supposed to be. Play up the Moscow angle, by the way. That you want to see things. So you’ll have an excuse to be here and there. Different places.”
Simon looked at him, puzzled.
“The embassy, for instance. Now he knows you’re supposed to report there, so he won’t be suspicious when you go.”
“And when’s that? What’s going on?”
“Walk this way. So what did Pirie actually say?”
“What?”
“When he briefed you. We can talk now.”
“Frank—”
“He must have said something. An opportunity like this. A perfect chance to make a pitch.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Honestly.”
Frank looked at him. “Jesus Christ, he’s dumber than I thought. Not even a trial balloon? So somebody else briefed you. Remember everything. Don’t write it down. Simon, I helped write that rule book. I know how it works. So what’s the offer?”
“The offer?”
“For me. The double cross. They’d have to take a run at it. How could they not? They finally have access to me. Right now. No filters. How can they not at least try?”
“I’m not with them.”
“You are as long as you’re here. So Pirie didn’t talk to you and whoever did had nothing to say to me, is that right?”
Simon nodded.
“Christ.”
“I’m not sure I’m following. Why would they ask? You’d refuse. What’s the point?”
“Or maybe he isn’t as dumb as I think,” Frank said, half to himself. “He doesn’t want to give me any leverage.” Abruptly he changed voices. “But it’s a little early for Sochi.”
Simon looked up. A woman was passing, a blonde wearing a tight skirt and high heels, the first Simon had seen, an unexpected erotic flash after all the sturdy sandals and shapeless sundresses. She smiled at them, then made a motion with her unlighted cigarette. Frank took out a match and lit it, saying something in Russian as she bent down to the flame. A quick jerk of her head. More Russian, then a kind of sneer before she moved off.
“What was that?”
“What you think.”
“In the middle of the day?”
“It’s known for it, the pond.”
Simon looked around. A few people lying on the sloping banks with their shirts off, or eating in the shade, an Impressionist leisure, not the people in posters with their sleeves rolled up, building dams.
“I thought there wasn’t any prostitution in the Soviet Union.”
“Or crime,” Frank said, distracted, thinking, then shaking his head. “No, he is that dumb. And I’m going to make him a hero. The high point of his career. Such as it is. The last thing he deserves. But sometimes you get lucky. Donald Fucking Pirie.”
“What high point?”
“Me.”
Simon stopped for a minute, trying to take this in. “You.”
“The ultimate catch. And he caught me. And didn’t even throw out a net. He’ll say he sent you to do it and you might as well go along. You’ll both look good. I’ll make you a hero too. You were the persuader.”
“What did I persuade you to do?” Simon said, watching him, fascinated.
Frank turned to him. “Defect.”
Simon stopped, rooted, things suddenly in slow motion around him.
“No, keep walking. Boris will notice. I know, you’re surprised. But we don’t have much time. I thought you’d be coming with an invitation, but never mind, I’ll just invite myself. I still have you. You’re the key.”
“Me?” Simon said, still trying to absorb this.
“You have a reason to be here. Boris has seen you work. That’s why I wanted him there. The perfect cover. I can’t contact anybody. I need to send a messenger. And they’ll believe you, that it’s a real offer.”
“What is?”
“To come back.”
“Come back,” Simon said, as if repeating it would make it real. “Nobody’s ever done that. Come back.”
Frank nodded. “So nobody here will be expecting it.”
“Come back,” Simon said again. “Just like that.”
“No, not just like that. You know what I mean by the Thirteenth Department?”
“Like the Third?”
“Except they’re in charge of retribution. To defectors. The minute I start this, I’m in the crosshairs. Then they track you down. And kill you. As a lesson to the others. That’s why we have to arrange a new identity. That has to be part of the deal.”
“What makes you think Pirie would do this?”
“You playing devil’s advocate again? I’m the biggest defector the Agency ever had. To get me back would be—bigger. Even if I didn’t know anything. But I do. I know everything. That’s part of what I do here. Train agents who are being sent to the States. How to act, what to say, what would an American do in a given situation. How to be like us.”
Simon looked at him, his stomach suddenly queasy.
“I know who’s on the ground there. Some of them anyway. And I know who’s here. The whole Service organizational chart. Personalities to be filled in at the debriefing. Maybe you don’t know what this is worth, but Pirie will. The minute you tell him.”
“I tell him?”
“Get word to him. There’s somebody at the embassy who can send a smoke signal to him, right? They must have given you a name.”
Simon just looked at him.
“Jimbo, it’s what I do. I know how this works.”
“And why would he believe you? After—”
“Well, that’s the point. He’d be suspicious. And careful. And he’d take his own sweet time. But we don’t have that kind of time. You’re only going to be here for—”
“Me?”
“I can’t do this without you. It’s got to be while you’re here. He may not believe me, but he’ll believe you. And just to hurry things up a little, I’m going to give him a—a little something down. Kind of a deposit.”
“What kind?” Simon said, suddenly not wanting to hear. The park, the sunny day, had become surreal, swirling slowly around him. The yellow pavilion. People eating ice cream. Maybe overhearing, maybe not a prostitute, the signs in Cyrillic, cipher letters, Frank about to run again, with Simon caught in his slipstream.