“I’m afraid that moment has come,” Brian said. “That moment at which the relationship between us is facing a very real risk of being exposed.” He looked at Cobra to see his reaction. He had taken him outdoors intentionally, so that if he was going to react in an unexpected or unrestrained manner, then at least he would do so in an open area with few onlookers rather than in the hotel. He needed the space around him. The space and the ability to respond accordingly. But Cobra as usual was cold, and his narrow eyes looked straight ahead, and not at him.
“There’s been a leak. Something out of our control. Something that appears to be tied to the distant past. And it’s risen to the surface all of a sudden. We believe, we know in fact, that Israeli security officials are on the hunt these days for an agent high up in the government establishment. They’re in possession of solid information that is causing them to look, to leave no stone unturned. And if they persist, they’re likely to get their hands on you. But we can preempt that. We want you to come to us. Now. You’ll be safe with us.”
Alon felt his balls tighten and shrink. The tremor that shook his body traveled from his scalp down to his anus. He hoped it was merely an inner sensation, and that Brian hadn’t noticed.
Brian had.
A bitter taste filled Alon’s mouth, and he sensed a foul odor on his breath. He asked Brian if he had a mint.
“Let’s sit down for a while,” Brian suggested, and he led the way to a bench overlooking the lake, which appeared to be darkening, as if black ink had been poured into its waters. Their security detail, a young man and woman who were following them, stopped and took up a lookout position some distance away. The young man retrieved a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his leather jacket, lit one, inhaled deeply and with obvious pleasure, and said: “It’s going to be a long night.” The woman tightened the scarf around her neck. A cold mist was coming off the lake.
Appearing to have guessed his need ahead of time, Brian took out a box of strong mints and handed it to Cobra. “Look, Alon,” he said in a soft yet distinctly resolute tone, “now’s the time for some quick decision-making. The danger is real. But there’s no need for hysteria or panic. You know how important you are to us, and we’d do everything to keep you in place. The information you’ve been feeding us is of enormous value, and you know that we’ve expressed our deep appreciation for your contribution through deeds and not just words. You’ve helped us, and in doing so you’ve added to the stability of the region as a whole. We admire your courage and perseverance. But you, Alon, you are more important to us than anything else. We don’t want your cover to be blown, with all its implications. And you know what I’m talking about. So here’s what I’m saying to you: Come with us now. Don’t return to Israel. We’ll take care of everything that needs to be done. You’ll be joined within a few months by your wife and children, or at least your son who still lives at home. You’ll have a good life in Moscow. Among friends. Completely secure. We can keep you safe there.”
Alon wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. “Moscow?” he asked suddenly, his voice cracking.
Brian decided not to go easy on him. Convey the message as clearly and unequivocally as possible, and Cobra wouldn’t be able to deny or suppress it. “Yes, Moscow. Or St. Petersburg. Wherever you like. And you’ll also get a summer house, a dacha. On the shores of the Black Sea. With weather just like at home, right?”
Alon was confused. What was this about Moscow all of a sudden? Or St. Petersburg? A dacha? He felt strange, as if he had detached from his body and was now observing himself from above, his shadow lengthening. He caught a glimpse of himself behind his eyelids, which he had closed for a moment—a young and headstrong man, ringing the bell of the U.S. embassy in Rome. How had he gone from there to Russia? He stared at his handler, his eyes dark and cold. “What are you telling me, Brian? What are you saying?”
Brian began telling Cobra the cover story he had prepared for this very moment. “Look, Alon,” he said. “It’s long and complex, and we’re still going to talk about it a whole lot more, and in depth. But I’ll fill you in on the main points right now. At some point in the past, the superpowers—the Soviet Union, Russia today, and the United States—came to an understanding that may appear surprising on the backdrop of the Cold War. But that makes absolute sense when you think about it. The supreme interest of both countries, from the 1980s onward, at least, has been stability. Stability with no decisive outcome. The price of instability is simply too high. Unbearable even. And the developments we have witnessed over the past twenty to thirty years have only reinforced this principle. Stability and a balance of power. To avoid any deterioration in the situation, any loss of control that would lead to a disaster. Yes, there were those who, for a brief and inconsequential moment in time, announced to the world that the conflict had been decided, and that there was only one superpower left in this world. There were idiots who spoke of the end of an era. Ignorant intellectuals, foolish and irresponsible. It remained clear all the while, or it should have remained so, at least, that what we really needed was a fine and well-monitored balance between Washington and Moscow. The conflict that emerged after the Great Patriotic War couldn’t be allowed to end in a decisive victory. That would spell certain disaster for both sides. High-ranking and responsible officials from both countries have worked in earnest to ensure the preservation of this balance. On all levels.”
“What does all this have to do with me?” Alon asked.
“You showed up at the American embassy in Rome some thirty years ago. You offered to do all you could for the good of this stability, and if possible—for the sake of peace in the Middle East. You said you’d go far, that you’d rise to positions of influence, and you’ve kept your promise admirably. You’ve become a significant player. With the courage of a soldier in civilian dress, you’ve worked to prevent your region from dragging the planet into a third world war. It’s been thrilling to observe you. Making the right choice, choosing you, gave us a sense of pride. But for the sake of that crucial, that essential, that indispensable balance, the powers that be decided consensually that we would assume responsibility for maintaining the relationship with you, sharing all the intelligence and insights you pass on to us with our colleagues in Langley.”
Brian went silent. And Cobra didn’t say a word either. Brian had voiced that same explanation, the one he had just given to Cobra, dozens of times before. To himself and in numerous conversations with his superiors at the directorate. He had always asked himself if there was any logic at all to the crazy story. Would Cobra see it as a likely explanation for the fact that he’d been in the hands of the Russian SVR and not the American CIA, contrary to what he’d thought all through the years? And he had always told himself that even if the story was far-fetched and not very convincing, Cobra would prefer it to the truth. Because the true story was worse, a lot worse. A story of betrayal upon betrayal. Cobra, who was betraying his country, and his handlers, who were betraying him. That could be too much to handle even for a man of no scruples. Cobra would rather cling to the fantasy and believe he was part of a huge web of considerations and forces working to promote stability and calm and not some idiot who had fallen victim to manipulation for the past three decades.
Alon tried, despairingly, to argue. “Well, if that’s the case, why don’t your partners in Washington put me up, in San Francisco or Boston or Chicago? And I’m not going to say anything just yet about the fact that you could have shared your thinking with me, this concept of yours of the global balance.”