17
Alex
Brooklyn
Alex was left alone in a small dark room below a naked light bulb that barely illuminated the table where he was seated. Two empty chairs that stood on the other side of the table were the only other pieces of furniture in the room. A large mirror covered the wall in front of him, and he wondered how many people were standing on the other side observing him.
His brain began to work overtime. Why had he been arrested? What were they charging him with? What law had he broken? Alex couldn’t believe the police were interested in the small pickings he made playing chess at the weekends, and although he now owned four stalls, and was making a reasonable profit, it surely wouldn’t have been enough to interest even the lowliest tax inspector. And there was no way they could know about the hundred dollars a week Ivan was paying him, because it was always in cash. It couldn’t be anything to do with the university, because they had their own security, and in any case, the dean had recently suggested that he should apply for a place at Harvard Business School. Although he was flattered by the idea, Alex rather hoped he’d end up as a case study, not a student.
His thoughts were interrupted when the door suddenly opened and two well-dressed men entered. He recognized them both immediately, but said nothing. They sat down opposite him. He had never forgotten their first meeting, and wondered which of them would be playing the good cop. At least it couldn’t be worse than the Soviet Union, where they only had a bad cop, bad cop routine. He waited for one of them to speak.
‘My name is Matt Hammond,’ the older man said, ‘and this is my colleague, Ross Travis. You might recall that we met at your home some time ago.’
‘When you claimed to work for Border Patrol,’ said Alex, more calmly than he felt.
‘We’re with the CIA,’ said Hammond, producing his badge, ‘and hoped you’d be able to help us with an assignment we’re currently working on.’
Assignment, not investigation, thought Alex. Wasn’t I need to see my lawyer always the first sentence uttered by criminals when faced with this situation in the movies? But he wasn’t a criminal, so he remained silent. The next sentence Hammond delivered took him completely by surprise.
‘We’re hoping you’ll feel able to work alongside us, Mr Karpenko.’ Alex thought back to their first meeting. ‘For the past six months,’ continued Hammond, ‘two of our agents have been watching you day and night while you’ve been working as a courier for a man known as Ivan Donokov, who we’ve had under surveillance for some time.’
‘But Ivan assured me he wasn’t dealing in drugs,’ said Alex.
‘And he isn’t,’ said Hammond.
‘Then what?’ asked Alex, feeling nervous for the first time.
‘Donokov is a senior KGB operative, who runs a network of agents right across the country.’
A long silence followed, until Alex said, ‘But he hates the communists even more than I do.’
‘He knew that was exactly what you wanted to hear.’
‘But we met playing chess...’
‘It wasn’t a coincidence,’ said Travis, ‘that Donokov was sitting at a chessboard with an empty seat opposite him when you first walked into Players’ Square.’
‘How could he possibly have known that—’
‘We think Major Polyakov tipped him off after you and your mother escaped from Leningrad.’
‘But he didn’t know that I played chess, and—’ Alex stopped in mid-sentence.
‘No, it was probably your friend Vladimir who supplied Polyakov with that piece of information,’ said Hammond.
Another long silence, that neither Hammond nor Travis interrupted.
‘What a complete fool I’ve been,’ said Alex.
‘To be fair, Donokov is an old pro who’s been around for a long time, and once you got yourself into debt, frankly you were willing to believe anything he told you.’
‘Am I going to be sent back to Leningrad?’
‘No, that’s the last place we need you to be,’ said Hammond.
‘So what do you expect me to do?’
‘Nothing too demanding to begin with. After all, we don’t want to let your friend Donokov know that we’re on to him. Keep delivering his messages, and occasionally one of my agents will make discreet contact with you. Just let him know what that day’s message is, and then carry on as normal.’
‘But Ivan’s no fool. It won’t take him long to work out what you’re up to, and then he’ll drop me like the proverbial hot potato.’
‘Or worse,’ said Hammond. ‘Because I have to make it clear that your life would be in danger if Donokov were to discover that you were working with the CIA.’
‘But on the other hand,’ Travis added, ‘with your help, we might just be able to break the ring and put Donokov and his gang behind bars for a very long time.’
‘What makes you think I’d even consider taking such a risk?’
‘Because it was Ivan Donokov who ordered your father’s death.’
‘No, you’re wrong about that,’ said Alex. ‘I can prove it was Polyakov.’
‘Polyakov is just a pawn on the KGB’s chessboard. Donokov moves the pieces.’
Alex was speechless, then said, almost to himself, ‘That would explain why he’s always so well informed.’ It was some time before he asked, ‘How did you blow his cover?’
‘We have an agent working for us in Leningrad who detests the KGB even more than you do.’
Alex returned home later that evening. Now he had yet another secret he couldn’t share with his mother, or even Dimitri. Could it be possible that Dimitri was also working for Donokov? He had, after all, recommended he visit Players’ Square. Or was he a CIA operative? One thing Alex knew for certain — he couldn’t risk asking him.
He tried to continue working for Ivan as if nothing had happened, but of course it had, and he was sure it would only be a matter of time before he was found out.
It was about a fortnight after his meeting with the two CIA agents that the first interception took place. Alex was standing on the platform at Queensboro Plaza, waiting for a train to Lexington Avenue, when a voice behind him said, ‘Don’t look round.’
Alex obeyed the simple command, although his whole body was shaking. A few moments later the voice whispered, ‘What’s today’s message?’
‘A package will be arriving from Odessa on Thursday, dock seven. Make sure you pick it up.’
The man left without another word. Alex delivered Donokov’s message as usual.
For the next few weeks, agents would appear on the subway, on buses, and once when he was crossing a busy intersection. He always passed on whatever message Ivan had given him that day, and then, like the morning mist, they evaporated into thin air, never to be seen again.
Alex could only wonder how long it would be before Ivan worked out that he was serving two masters. But he had to admit, if only to himself, he enjoyed the challenge of trying to convince the KGB man that he had no idea what he was really up to, although he accepted that Ivan was as good a chess player as he was, and his queen was exposed.
He couldn’t have missed him. In fact it worried Alex just how obvious he was, standing on the subway platform wearing a smart charcoal grey suit, white shirt and blue tie. He even smelt CIA.
Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Never believe in coincidences, Hammond had warned him. He smiled at Alex, something no other agent had ever done, which only made him more suspicious. Perhaps he was mistaken, and it was just someone who thought he recognized him.
Alex moved away, but the man followed him down the platform. His first mistake. If he had been a CIA agent, he would have disappeared, assuming he’d been spotted. Alex looked down and noticed his second mistake. Although his shoes were highly polished, they were slip-ons, frowned upon by the CIA, who insisted on laces. Such a trivial error.