‘Terrible,’ she said. ‘The worst ever.’
‘What did he say?’ asked Brinkman, another direct question.
Ann looked away. ‘That if I didn’t like it, I could leave.’
Not only important enough to go back to Washington; important enough to consider sacrificing his marriage. Jesus! thought Brinkman. Trying for still more he said, ‘People say things they don’t mean when they’re shouting at each other.’
Ann came against him once more and knowing her need he reached out and held her. ‘Oh darling,’ she said. ‘I’m so unsure of everything!’
So am I, thought Brinkman. So am I.
Until now Orlov’s deception of the old man had been unavoidable; Sevin led and Orlov had no alternative but to follow. Today it was going to have to become calculated and deliberate. Orlov had wanted it otherwise. He’d tried to think of every other way, every alternative avenue, but there was none he could attempt without the risk of arousing curiosity. He waited for the customary summons and entered Sevin’s suite with the approach carefully prepared. There was the progress discussion on the agricultural project and when the conversation began to flag Orlov said, ‘There’s something I think you should know.’
Sevin smiled at him, waiting.
‘Natalia and I have decided to divorce,’ announced Orlov. ‘Everything is well advanced, actually.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Sevin, curtly. There was no stigma to divorce within the Soviet Union but the news unsettled Sevin. He’d wanted Pietr Orlov perfect in every way and this was a blemish and an unnecessary blemish. Why couldn’t the man have maintained a pretence, aware as he was of the future that was planned for him! A lot of other people did.
Orlov knew that Sevin, a widower now, had been married for forty years. He said, ‘I thought you should know… in case of any embarrassment.’ Orlov had no religion but he knew the book. Judas, he thought.
Sevin’s mind was way ahead of the immediate discussion. People got divorced for a lot of different reasons but often because of some outside liaison but nowhere in the checks that he’d made was there a suggestion of Orlov being involved in any sort of extra-marital activity. Feeling he had the right, Sevin asked directly, ‘Is there anybody else?’
Orlov was stiff-faced with controclass="underline" double Judas, he thought. He said, ‘No. Not on either side.’
‘Why then?’ persisted Sevin.
Prepared, Orlov said, ‘I suppose we were too long apart. We’re strangers to each other. There are constant arguments.’
‘Married people argue,’ said Sevin.
‘You’ve made it clear to me what you intend. How important it is for all appearances to be right. I did not consider the relationship between Natalia and myself sufficient to maintain that sort of public appearance, when the time comes.’ Judas, hypocrite, liar and cheat, he thought, miserably.
Sevin nodded at the explanation. Orlov had never done anything to create the slightest suspicion. Objectively Sevin decided it was an honest explanation and it was a completely acceptable – politically acceptable – explanation at that. He said, ‘I think you made the right decision. Divorce is one of the few things in this society that doesn’t cause problems.’
‘I just thought you should know,’ said the relieved Orlov, discerning the old man’s acceptance. Moving to further deceit, Orlov said, ‘I realise from what I’ve learned since I’ve been back how important it is for things properly to be seen to be right, by those who matter.’
Sevin smiled, taking the bait. ‘It is astonishing,’ he agreed, ‘how puerile things like positioning at conference tables and arrangements of photographs are considered to matter by men who are supposed to be making decisions that can affect the world.’
Orlov hesitated before the final move and said, ‘Who will be attending the reception at the American embassy?’
‘It’s important,’ insisted the old man. ‘First outing since Chebrakin’s accession. Chebrakin himself doesn’t plan to attend, of course. Didenko is definitely going but then he’s a man under pressure anxious to prove himself still a viable figure. I’ve been proposed but I think I’ll decline. Zebin will go. Okulov, too. There’ll be others, of course.’
Orlov hadn’t expected the advantage of one of the men about whom there had already been speculation in the West, in advance of Chebrakin’s appointment. He said, ‘There’ll be a lot of concentration upon Didenko: there were forecasts that he had a better chance than Chebrakin on this occasion.’
Sevin grew serious. ‘That’s a good point,’ he said. ‘An extremely good point.’
Delicately, not wanting the line to break, Orlov said, ‘Would it matter?’
‘Like I said,’ reminded Sevin, the educator. ‘Positioning at tables and in photographs and at public functions are considered important.’ The old man stopped, for a moment’s further reflection and then he said, ‘I think you should go.’
‘Me!’ said Orlov, as if the proposal startled him.
‘The first outing since Chebrakin’s accession,’ repeated Sevin. ‘It might seem premature but sides will be taken – contenders considered or dismissed as unimportant – as early as now. And Pietr?’
‘Yes?’ said Orlov.
‘Don’t make it obvious but try to stay as close as possible to Didenko. Let’s get the idea established now among the uncommitted on the Central Committee and actually within the Politburo that there’s an equality in stature between the two of you.’
What was he doing to this man? thought Orlov, agonised. Despising himself, he said, ‘If you think it’s important.’
‘Yes,’ insisted Sevin. ‘I think it’s important.’
Sokol accepted objectively that the cause of Blair’s return to Washington could be absolutely innocent but with matching objectivity never regarded anything a known and identified intelligence agent did as absolutely innocent. He annotated Blair’s file for the man to be subjected to surveillance tighter than normally imposed, even on someone named on the special Watch List.
Chapter Twenty-Three
They had not met all together, either on any public occasions or privately, since Blair’s return from Washington and Brinkman was glad. The telephone calls from Ann – always her to him because he could never know when Blair would be at home – were quite frequent and Brinkman knew that Ann was glad, too, neither sure how they would handle the moment when Blair was included. It had to happen eventually, of course – for it not to have done, after their earlier closeness, would have made Blair suspicious – and Brinkman was grateful it was going to be at a reception, crowded with people and distraction, so that any awkwardness wouldn’t be obvious.
It was an official affair, with protocol to be observed, which meant Brinkman had to arrive earlier than he would have liked. He didn’t see Blair or Ann immediately. The first face he recognised was that of Wilcox, the British Head of Chancery. They had a strained conversation about cricket, about which Wilcox was an acknowledged fanatic and Brinkman almost entirely ignorant apart from the basic principles. Eventually he moved on to the buffet table, not hungry but using it to occupy the time. Brinkman hadn’t expected the number of people who were there. His attendance was logical because the guest list contained the names of at least eight members of the inner Soviet government and if they accepted it would not only be an opportunity of seeing them in close proximity, like the visit of the British delegation, but also of watching them on parade on the first occasion after Chebrakin’s election. He hadn’t anticipated the interest would be as great from everyone else.
He heard a shout and smiled at the approach of the Harrisons. Brinkman had returned their hospitality and accepted it again – without the enforced accompaniment of Sharon Berring – and there had also been occasional encounters at official functions like this but it hadn’t become a positive friendship.