One of the crosses a writer must bear is well-meaning advice from people who know utterly nothing about the craft. But MacIver was leading up to something in his transparently devious way and I let him set his own pace.
“That lost treasure-that’s the dog, Harry, it’s not just the tail.”
He blew smoke at his chest. “End of kindly advice. Okay? Still friends?”
I didn’t think that was the end of it at all. I said, “You said you wanted to talk business.”
He toyed with the burning cigarette. “I’m sorry, I kind of did this wrong. I can be a bull in a china shop. You’re not in much of a mood to listen.”
“As long as it’s not another piece of literary criticism.”
“Why don’t we have a drink?”
“You talk like a man with bad news.” My mind leaped to his earlier remarks about my visa.
“Not bad news. A little off-the-record information and some advice, that’s all.”
“About what?”
“You want a drink? I’m going to have one.”
“I think I’ll pass.”
MacIver summoned a waiter who took some time reaching us; he didn’t say anything until after he’d ordered another bourbon. Then he plucked the cigarette pack from his shirt pocket, found it was empty, crushed it in his fist and excused himself to hunt for the cigarette vending machine. I saw him intercept a waiter who gave him directions.
He returned simultaneously with his drink order; he asked the waiter for the luncheon check and sat down stripping the cellophane from the cigarette pack. I said, “I gather your department doesn’t have close rapport with the Surgeon General.”
“I try to quit now and then. Every time I do, we get some kind of crisis. I figure if I keep smoking maybe it’ll deter the start of World War Three. It’s a small enough price to pay. That girl Nikki, she smokes, doesn’t she?”
I was taken aback. “Now and then.”
“You keep in touch with her, don’t you?”
“Why?”
“How deep and heavy did it get between you two? I’ve got a reason for asking. Somebody told me she was pretty deep in your guts, but that was a while ago.”
I was knotting up slowly, inside. “Evan, if you’ve got a point to make …”
“How much do you know about her, Harry? What she does for a living, I mean.”
I stared at him. “That’s a cheap shot.”
“I’m not trying to pry, Harry. I promise you I already know a lot more about it than you do. I’m not pumping you for private information, I only want to know how much she told you.”
“I don’t see where it’s any of your business.”
“Well it’s exactly my business, but you’re right-you don’t have to answer the question. Suppose I give you some information, instead. This is off the record-I want that understood. We’re not supposed to go around giving out information to people who aren’t in the Firm. But you look like you’re on the way to Russia on this book of yours, and I’d better set you straight. This wasn’t the Agency’s idea, my boss doesn’t know anything about it. I’m talking to you on my own. That’s why it’s off the record. You understand?”
“I don’t understand at all. You haven’t said anything yet.”
“Well I assume at least you know she works for the Israeli government. Specifically, she works for an agency that gets Jews out of Russia.”
“I know all that.”
“Uh-huh, it wasn’t likely you didn’t, but when people are working her side of the street you never know how much they’re willing to spill to their lovers. For all I knew she told you she was a fund-raiser.”
“She does that sometimes.”
“It’s only a cover, Harry. On the surface it’s a legitimate agency-they do raise funds, they agitate for publicity and demonstrations wherever they think they can arouse public opinion against Soviet policy. That’s on the surface. They also grease the wheels inside Russia-they get out pamphlets that tell Russian Jews how to get through all the red tape they have to go through to get an exit visa.”
“You haven’t shocked me yet,” I said. “I don’t see what you’re leading up to.”
“It’s an underground railroad. They work with Jews who can’t get official permission to leave the country. They print up false documentation and they falsify records in some of the local OVIR offices. They’ve got a fair-sized fifth-column staff inside the Soviet Union. It’s very Jewish and very efficient-an organized operation. It’s an agency of the Mossad, out of Tel Aviv.”
I had half guessed that much months before. I still wasn’t stirred much by his revelations; only by his intense air of conspiracy, which seemed an unjustifiedly melodramatic pose.
The waiter brought the check face-down on a saucer. MacIver took out a credit card. I said, “Expense account?”
“Sure.”
“Then I won’t fight over it.”
“Anyway, I invited you.” He signed the check and put his credit card on top of it. The waiter took it away. MacIver said, “You’re not Jewish.”
“Riddle me no games, Evan.” I was angry with his pointlessly roundabout attack-like a dog that turned several full circles before lying down: a ritualistic habit, indulged in whether there was a need for it or not.
“They break their asses to recruit non-Jewish help. You’d be a perfect courier if you got your visa. They need couriers badly.”
“And?”
“I just want to warn you. It’s off the record, as I said. Screw her eyes out if you want to, Harry, but don’t let the little bitch con you into joining her pack of running dogs. The chances are you wouldn’t come back from Siberia before the year two thousand.”
8
Before continuing this account I must interpolate a few explanations.
First, in reconstructing conversations that took place a year and more ago I have used the device of placing dialogue within quotation marks. The need for accuracy compels me to explain that I do not have an absolute memory for exact words that may have been spoken months or years ago. I do, however, have a fair ear for speech patterns, and when important things are said I remember the substance and flavor, if not the exact words. The device of direct quotes is admittedly a contrivance but I find it both more readable and more writable; it saves time and avoids the need for awkward circumlocutions. And I believe it provides a fuller measure of the nuances of real exchanges.
Second, I am resuming the writing of this manuscript after an interruption of nearly two weeks during which I have been almost constantly on the run. Prior to that I was writing under circumstances far less pressing than those which obtain now. During the early part of April of this year* I went into hiding, in a manner of speaking, and I had no idea how long I might have to remain in that place. There was nothing to do but write. Under those conditions I felt an obligation not only to make a full account of these events but also to interpret them wherever I could, to provide background information and to explain all the circumstances as completely as possible.
That luxury is no longer available. I am hunted; I may have a very limited time in which to complete these pages. My present hiding place is not very secure. It is likely I will have to run again soon. The most important thing now is to complete this recitation of events.* If the remainder of this narrative appears disjointed and hasty it is for that reason; I shall have time to relate only the most important events.
* 1973.-Ed.
* At the end of this section of manuscript, Bristow wrote a twelve-page summary of the events covered in more detail by the remainder of this book. He then went back and fleshed out that account; it is the second version which we publish here. But his deciding to write the twelve-page outline first is an indication of his urgency and sense of peril.-Ed.
9
In February 1973 Evan MacIver telephoned to congratulate me on having won my fight with the Soviet bureaucracy. My visa and clearances had been granted by the Russian government.