‘From Krysin?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Did you tell him we were meeting tonight?’
She frowned again. ‘Is there any reason why I shouldn’t have done?’
Instead of answering her question, Charlie asked another. ‘What would you have done if Krysin had said no, you couldn’t come?’
‘I told him as a matter of courtesy,’ she qualified. ‘I’m equal to Krysin, in rank. And influence. He hasn’t the authority to forbid me.’
‘What would you have done if he talked against it?’ persisted Charlie.
Natalia looked down into her wineglass. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I think I would have come, but I’m not sure.’
‘So he could influence you?’
‘Not about my private life, no,’ she said in further qualification. ‘I would have listened to Krysin if I’d thought my becoming involved with you could in any way have caused difficulty with the other five in the class: they’re the important consideration, not your or my social life.’
‘Are we becoming involved,’ seized Charlie.
‘No,’ she said, at once.
Almost too sharply, Charlie thought. Seeing the opening for an unasked question, Charlie said, ‘Are you married?’
‘Would it have any importance, if I were?’
‘Wouldn’t that be a decision for you?’
‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘What a bourgeois question! What can conceivably be wrong in a married man or a married woman dining together?’
‘The roles have reversed again,’ said Charlie.
His evasion confused her, as it was supposed to do. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re in charge again,’ he said.
She smiled, reluctantly. ‘Answer the question,’ she insisted.
‘No,’ he said. ‘There can be absolutely nothing wrong. Now answer mine – is it happening?’
Natalia sighed but Charlie didn’t think it was an expression of irritation. She said, ‘I was married during my first year here, in Moscow. He was a major, in our Border Guard division. An incredible man, in every way. The most active way was sexual and he expected me to understand the other women, but I couldn’t. So I divorced him.’
‘It sounds as if you still love him,’ said Charlie.
‘Oh, I do,’ she admitted at once. ‘Very much.’
Disappointment engulfed Charlie, like a blanket suddenly thrown over his head, blocking out the light. ‘Why not try to get back together?’ said Charlie.
‘I tried,’ said Natalia, honest still. ‘He isn’t interested.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Charlie, carelessly.
‘Why should you be?’
He smiled at her, recovering. ‘One of those stupid, inconsequential Western reactions,’ he said.
‘At least there’s Eduard,’ she said. ‘He’s ten now. A very clever boy. I’m lucky, with the benefits of what I do. He’s at a boarding academy, getting a wonderful education.’
It would be a KGB-run school, Charlie guessed. There seemed something obscene, battery-feeding a child that early into intelligence. It was the same, he supposed, with seminaries although he didn’t imagine priests would have liked the comparison. ‘How often do you see him?’ asked Charlie.
‘Not enough,’ said Natalia. ‘I’d prefer to have him home but it’s better for him, the way it is.’
Neither wanted anything after the goulash. Charlie ordered coffee and brandy, Russian again. ‘Well?’ he said.
‘Well what?’
‘Has it been so bad?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s been very nice. Thank you.’
Her apartment was far more central than his, just off Mytninskaya. There was the customary concierge on the ground floor and Natalia gave no reaction when Charlie walked confidently by, accompanying her to the elevator and then up to the apartment door. No smells, noted Charlie. At the door she turned and said ‘No.’
‘No what?’ he said, innocently.
‘Just no.’ She extended her hand, formally and said, ‘Thank you again. I’ve enjoyed it very much.’
Charlie took her hand, thinking how much better it was than finger touching but regretting this was all it was going to be. ‘Me too,’ he said. ‘Don’t be late for school in the morning.’
‘Were they bad?’ she said, seriously. ‘As bad as you made out.’
‘Bloody awful,’ said Charlie.
With his customary ebullience Berenkov insisted upon a celebration dinner and with her customary obedience Valentina complied. Berenkov, naturally, made himself responsible for the wines. There was imported French champagne for the repeated toasts and the dinner wine and brandy were French, too. Georgi, who still had to learn to know his father, was overawed by the flamboyance and further embarrassed by the congratulations that Berenkov kept proposing, praises for passing the examinations with almost maximum marks and forecasts of the successes that Georgi was going to know in whatever Western university accepted him. The boy drank slightly too much and went unsteadily to bed and after he left the table Valentina said, ‘I can’t reconcile myself to it. I’ve tried – believing it will be as good for him as you tell me it will – but I can’t reconcile myself to it.’
‘It’ll be different from before,’ assured Berenkov. ‘Before we didn’t know when we were going to be together again, you and I. It won’t be like that this time.’
‘How long will it be?’ the woman demanded, wanting specifics.
‘Two years,’ said Berenkov. ‘I’m sure it won’t be any longer than two years.’
‘Two years, without seeing him!’
‘Maybe we’ll be able to see him earlier than that; maybe it won’t be a two year gap.’
‘You mean he’ll be able to come home on vacations?’
‘I mean we’ll see him,’ said Berenkov. ‘Of course we’ll see him.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Charlie was a relentless, unremitting instructor because he had to be. To win. And to survive. Concentrating upon survival first – which he always did – Charlie knew from Natalia’s warning that those he was teaching, who were after all supposed to be qualified, would report back to Krysin or someone else at Balashikha if he didn’t appear to be giving everything and more. And by giving everything and more he won, because it enabled him to learn just how good they were – and therefore the standard of their training – and a lot about the installation off Gofkovskoy Shosse, all of which he intended carrying back to England. Under the pretext of improving their technique he had them take him through all their tradecraft, how they established cells and communicated within those cells, how they created message drops and contact procedures and – most important – how they’d been taught to maintain relations with Moscow. All the time he corrected and modified – confident they would never have the opportunity to utilise the expertise he was giving them – all the time aware that in addition to winning and surviving he was the focus of Natalia’s attention and increasing admiration.
Charlie tempered – although only to himself – his initial impression of their ability. They’d been taught well, in some respects impressively. But by rote, with rarely any advice on how to improvise or adapt if the circumstances for which they had been prepared didn’t accord with the expected pattern. Charlie thought those to whom he would subsequently report in London were going to be intrigued by how little individual initiative Moscow allowed its operatives.
And intrigued, too, by his account of Balashikha. Charlie wasn’t aware of anything like it in England. He supposed the CIA’s training facility at Camp Peary, in Virginia, was similar but guessed even that fell short of what was available here. It was an enclave within enclave design and Charlie estimated that in total it occupied several thousand acres. The lecture halls and administration offices were the hub. Operatives lived within the installation, in dormitory accommodation which adjoined the central block. In the grounds there had been constructed complete replicas of typical streets and houses in Western towns. Insisting he should monitor his class’s trade craft in as proper a setting as possible, Charlie managed to gain access to reproductions of English, American, Canadian and French townships. There were parts to which he was not permitted admission but from one section the explosions and noise were obvious and Charlie realised that at Balashikha the spetnaz units were trained, too. He wondered, in passing, if Letsov and the other commando who had got him out of England had received their training here.