Frank said something in Russian to the waiter, who nodded and started collecting the menus. “How did it go at the embassy?” he said smoothly, the other Frank now.
“Fine. They saw me right away.”
“What did they want?” Jo said.
“Nothing. They like you to check in, that’s all.” The other Simon.
“Maybe they’re afraid you’ll go over the fence. Once you see how wonderful it is.” She took another drink.
“More like a French hotel, I think,” he said lightly. “Keep track of the passports.”
“A French hotel,” Jo said, smiling at the idea. “Remember those keys, with the tassels? It’s true, they were always asking for your passport.”
“The police keep a record.”
“I wonder if I’m still on an index card somewhere. Still suspect.”
“A dangerous character.”
“And you’d never think it to look at her, would you?” she said.
“No. You never would.”
“Hoover would. A file this high, I’ll bet,” she said, raising her hand. “Well, never mind. Tell me about Diana. It’s so good to see you,” she said, taking his hand, sentimental. “Do you know what I miss? When we all used to go out. Remember? When we went dancing. I used to love that.”
“Yes. You did,” Simon said. Her hair swinging behind her.
“The last time—well, I suppose we were still in the States. Nobody dances here. Remember Natasha in War and Peace? When she dances to that Russian song? It’s supposed to be a symbol of Russia. According to Professor Davis. Turns out she was the last one. I don’t think anyone’s danced since.”
“And the Bolshoi?” Frank said.
“Oh, the Bolshoi.”
“Is that Boris?” Simon said, spotting him at the door. “I thought he had the night off.”
“He does,” Frank said, putting his napkin down, ready to get up.
“What do you think he does? Off duty?” Jo said. “I can’t imagine. Actually, I like Boris. He’s all right. In his very peculiar way.”
“I’d better go see,” Frank said, leaving.
“He puts in a full day,” Simon said.
“He’s devoted to Frank.” She smiled to herself. “That’s one way of putting it. But I think he is, really. I used to think he was just a—I don’t know, guard. But it’s not that. He looks out for Frank.”
“And you?”
“Me? I look out for myself. Doing a wonderful job too.” She turned to him. “Tell me something. I’d like to know. Are you happy?”
“Happy?” he said, surprised, thrown by the question. “I don’t know. I never thought about it. Not like that. I suppose so.”
“You must be, if you never think about it.” She took out a cigarette. “I notice you don’t ask me if I am. Too late,” she said quickly, stopping him before he could speak. “Besides, what could I say? No? Yes? Would it make any difference?”
“I’d like to think you were,” he said, lighting the cigarette for her. “Think of you that way.”
“I was. For a while. Even here. It’s funny, you don’t know it when you are. Just when you’re not. I never blamed Frank. I came because—I was his wife. We had a child. And things were the way they were then. In the States. How horrible people were. Calling you names. In front of your child. To tell you the truth, I thought Frank was half-right. Not the spying half. I’m not making excuses for him. But I thought his reasons— Well, it was another time. The thing is, I was in love with him. You know.”
“Yes.”
“Think how easy if it had been someone else.” She smiled faintly at him.
“But it wasn’t.”
“No. So here we are. It was nice, though. You were nice. And what a thing you had for me,” she said, playing.
“Jo—”
“I know. Asking my old beaux to flatter me, tell me I’m still—God, how embarrassing. Who’s the fairest in the land? You are.” She looked at her drink. “You know, when I heard you were coming, I thought, he’s coming to rescue me. I actually thought that. Then I saw your face last night. When you saw me. It’s different for men, isn’t it? You get older and nobody thinks anything of it. But the ladies— So no rescue this time. Anyway, it’s a little late. Not too many candidates. You were it. But sometimes you like to think—how it might have been.”
“There was no might have been. It was never me.”
She looked at him, then rubbed out the cigarette. “And I made my bed. So to speak. And now I get to lie in it. Do something for me, though? For old times’ sake? Tell them we’re happy. Frank and me. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of—”
“Who?”
“Whoever you’re talking to at the embassy. Nobody goes to get his visa checked. That’s something the Russians do, not us. So you must be talking to somebody. What do they want to know? What we have for breakfast? How many drinks at night? I never thought it would be you doing that—” She shrugged. “Spying on us. But I suppose you didn’t have a choice. Imagine what you could pick up, all day in the flat. All the little details they like for the files. Although I can’t imagine what for. At this late date. But it’s what they do. So tell them we’re happy, would you? It can’t matter to anybody anymore. Except me.”
“I’m not spying on you. I’m just here to get the book—”
“Then why go to the embassy? It’s not a French hotel. They’re not checking passports.”
Well, why?
“Don’t lie to me. Please. Everybody lies to me. Not you. I couldn’t take that, not you too.”
“All right. I promised I’d report in.” Trying it, keeping the balls in the air.
“Report in.”
“Not like that. Not about you. They just want to know if I get approached.”
“Approached?”
“By the KGB.”
“They are the KGB. Boris and Frank.”
“Anyone else.”
“And were you? Approached?”
“How? I was with Frank all day. They’re just suspicious, that’s all. They can’t figure out why the KGB is letting the book happen. Whether there’s something else going on. So they want to know who sees me. Who says what. Not you.” He paused. “Not you.” Said easily, almost second nature now.
“But they’ve already seen the book. So what—?”
“I didn’t say it made any sense. They just want to know if anyone makes contact.”
“The usual way that happens is a lady in the bar at the Metropol.”
“Yes? That’s something to look forward to, then.”
“Mm. Those pictures you didn’t know they were taking. And the next thing you know, you’re—”
“Working for Frank. Is that the way he plans to recruit me?”
“It’s not funny, though. They do that.” She refilled her vodka glass. “Well, maybe a little bit funny,” she said, almost giggling. “I think it would be more ideological with Frank. Anyway, he doesn’t do that. I guess. Who would he meet? To recruit. We’re not allowed to see anybody. Except the others in the Service. Maybe they’re afraid somebody’ll try to recruit us.” She lifted her glass. “Smoke and mirrors. They think everybody’s like them. So I don’t think he’s in the recruiting business. I don’t know what he does exactly. He’s always home. Not that he ever went in much. It makes them nervous, foreigners at headquarters.”
“Their foreigners.”
“Still foreigners.” She looked down. “Frank said people were coming to take pictures.”
Simon nodded. “From Look.”
“To see how we live. Instead of a jail cell. I’d better get Ludmilla to tidy up. Put a good face on things. Cover that hole in the carpet. God. This wasn’t your doing, was it?”
“It was part of the deal. First serial excerpt.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Magazine runs a piece of the book before it comes out. They like to run pictures with it. So—”