“Ain’t gonna happen,” said Howe.
“We’ll see,” said Jimmy.
After he hung up, he flipped on the basketball game, a first rounder in the NCAA finals. Syracuse was comfortably ahead, but they were only playing Marist, which had managed somehow to draw the last bid of the tourney. With Syracuse up by twenty after one period, the game was pretty boring. He was just about to click off the set when the phone rang; thinking it was Jimmy calling back to rub in the game details, he hesitated but then picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Colonel Howe,” said a female voice, “stand by, please, for Dr. Blitz.”
“Colonel,” said Blitz, coming on the line before Howe could even answer. “Sorry we’ve been missing each other. A lot of stuff going on over here. I know it’s getting late and I won’t keep you. How about we have dinner next Tuesday night?” suggested Blitz. “My wife loves to cook.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying in town quite that long,” said Howe. “I was hoping to leave Saturday.”
“I’m afraid I have to go to Camp David for the weekend with the President.” Blitz paused. “Why don’t you come along?”
“I don’t think so,” said Howe.
“No, no, you really should: A lot of the important people you’ll be working with will be there.”
Howe smiled at the way Blitz had made it sound as if he’d decided to take the job.
“I think I’ll pass on the weekend, if that’s okay. Thanks, though.”
“Well, let’s set up that dinner, then. And I think the President will want to talk to you as well.”
Howe sighed. They really did want him to take the goddamn job, didn’t they?
Maybe he wanted it as well. Because really, if he didn’t, wouldn’t he have gone home already?
“So I can mark you down for dinner Tuesday?” asked Blitz. “Come over to my office in the afternoon-four, say. This way the President can drop by and say hi.”
Howe barely got “Well…” out of his mouth when Blitz started talking again.
“I understand your hesitation,” said Blitz, in a voice that suggested the opposite. “At least let the board of directors make a formal offer,” insisted Blitz. “We’ll have lunch Monday. Come over to my office. In the meantime, use that limo. Go out. Have fun. Even if you don’t take the job.”
The national security advisor paused and said something to someone else in his office. “Maybe you should have your mom come down from Pennsylvania. Show her Washington,” he said when he came back on the line.
“My mother’s sixty-eight.”
“Colonel, you really ought to relax for the next few days, just give yourself some time to think. Enjoy it — like a little minivacation. You’ve dedicated your life to your country, and you’ve made huge contributions. This is just a little bit of payback.”
“I’ll see you for lunch. I have to be honest, though: I’m leaning against the job. Very much against.”
“We’ll talk Monday,” said Blitz. “Wait until Monday.”
Chapter 16
Fisher was now officially played and had to stay in the background as the operation proceeded. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just disappear; one more lecture on joules and he would stick his fingers into the nearest light socket. So he feigned gastric distress and made a show of heading quickly to the men’s room, where he hung out for a while, smoking the cigarettes he’d traded for and listening to the attendant harangue customers for greenbacks instead of rubles. A few strategic groans kept him from being bothered, and when he finally emerged, the attendant steered well clear of him. Fisher made his way back to his hotel three blocks away; Madison flagged him down in a small Toyota.
“Nobody followed you,” the CIA officer told him. “You must’ve put on some act.”
“Looking stupid just comes naturally to some of us.”
They headed toward Arbatskaya, an area west of the Kremlin that once had a vaguely bohemian flavor and lately had become something of a tourist trap. Kung and the gnome were already en route, driven by a CIA operative disguised as a taxi driver; Madison would “deploy” them once Dr. Park arrived in the area.
If he arrived in the area.
“Your partner’s bugged, so we’ll hear what happens.”
“Who’s my partner?” objected Fisher.
“What’s-her-name-the short one. Mathers.”
“The gnome is not my partner,” said Fisher.
“Will he show up?” asked Madison.
“Got me,” said Fisher. “His minder will, though. I just about cleaned him out of smokes.”
Dr. Park walked past the shop, his heart thumping. Moscow was supposedly undergoing a very warm winter, but he felt like ice, even inside his warm parka. It had not been difficult to persuade Chin Yop to come here; he mentioned that he had eaten in the area during his one previous trip to Moscow and that it was very inexpensive. Chin Yop was undoubtedly being paid an allowance, and thus any savings on meals would go into his pocket.
Were the Americans following? How would they approach him? When? What would they do to Chin Yop?
Dr. Park tried to clear the questions from his mind. If they were following him — and they must be following him, he decided — then they would make contact at a time and place of their choosing, a time they felt was safe for everyone. He had to trust that they would handle the business appropriately: They had done well so far.
Dr. Park let his companion choose the restaurant, a small basement café at the foot of a large brick building that held apartments. The man who greeted them at the door spoke English in such a heavy accent that Dr. Park could not make it out. They found a seat in toward the back and managed to pick out items that seemed benign from the menu. In truth, anything they ate here would be exotic; Dr. Park’s diet consisted mostly of rice and bits of vegetable or, on occasion, fish. From the looks of his thin wrists and neck, Chin Yop did not fare much better.
“Oh, hello!” said a woman in English from across the room.
Dr. Park looked up. Ms. Kung and another woman were making their way across the room. Chin Yop had a strained look on his face.
“Mr. Chin,” said the shorter woman, bowing her head toward Dr. Park’s minder. “And your friend?”
Dr. Park introduced himself. The short woman said that her name was Ms. Mathers and she remembered the pair from the conference. Chin Yop smiled faintly, then said to Dr. Park in Korean that the taller woman was quite beautiful.
Dr. Park seized the chance to look directly at Ms. Kung. She was, he agreed, most beautiful.
“Mine,” insisted Chin Yop.
Dr. Park turned to him in surprise.
“Don’t be a prude,” insisted the minder, pushing his chair back and insisting in his poor English that the two women join them.
Dr. Park did not know what to do. His minder’s instructions would undoubtedly have been explicit: Such contacts should be kept to a minimum; certainly dinner would violate that edict.
A test?
Dr. Park could smell her perfume. What if the minder wanted to defect as well?
Perhaps he had his own plan.
Or perhaps he knew that Ms. Kung was here to contact him.
“I think perhaps we might eat alone,” suggested Dr. Park in Korean. Chin ignored him, talking with the women, asking them about America.
America!
Surely this was a trap. Dr. Park sat silently as the others ordered. When the food arrived he tried to eat slowly, but he could not: He was too hungry. He quickly cleaned his plate, then sat while the others laughed and talked.