"Did they all get one hundred percent in the exam?" -rm afraid I can't divulge----~" "You know who I am," Rostov -said bluntly. "You know I can find out." "Comrade Colonel, I like you and I want to have your son in my school. Please don't make trouble for yourself by creating a storm about this. If your son would apply again in one year's time, he would have an excellent chance of gaining a place." People did not warn KGB officers against making trouble for themselves. Rostov began to understand. "But he did score full marks." "Several applicants scored full marks in the written paper----Thank you," Rostov said. He bung up. The living room was dark, but he did not put the lights on. He sat in his armchair, thinking. The head teacher could easily have told him that all the applicants had scored full marks; but lies did not come easily to people on the spur of the moment, evasions were easier. However, to question the results would create trouble for Rostov. So. Strings had been pulled. Less talented youngsters had gained places because their fathers had used more influence. Rostov refused to be angry. Don't get mad at the system, he told himself: use it. He had some strings of his own to pull. He picked up the phone and called his boss, Feliks Vorontsov, at home. Feliks sounded a little odd, but Rostov ignored it. "Listen, Feliks, my son has been turned down for the Phys-Mat."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Vorontsov said. "Still, not everybody can get in." It was not the expected response. Now Rostov paid attention to Vorontsov's. tone of voice. "What makes you say that?" "My son was accepted. Rostov was silent for a moment. He had not known that Feliks' son had even applied. The boy was smart, but not half as clever as Vladimir. Rostov pulled himself together. "Then let me be the first to congratulate you." "Thank you," Feliks said awkwardly. "What did you call about, though?" "Oh ... look, I won't interrupt your celebration. It will keep until morning." "An right. Goodbye." Rostov hung up and put the phone gently down on the floor. If the son of some bureaucrat or politico had got into the school because of string-pulling, Rostov could have fought it: everyone's file had something nasty in it. The only kind of person he could not fight was a more senior KGB man. There was no way he could overturn this year's awards of places. So, Vladimir would apply again next year. But the same thing could happen again. Somehow, by this time next year, he had to get into a position where the Vorontsovs. of this world could not nudge him aside. Next year he would handle the whole thing differently. He would call on the head teacher's KOB file, for a start. He would get the complete list of applicants and work on any who might be a threat. He would have phones tapped and mail opened to find out who was putting on the pressure. But first he had to get into a position of strength. And now he realized that his complacency about his career so far had been erroneous. If they could do this to him, his star must be fading fast. That coup which he was so casually scheduling for some time in the next two
or three years had to be brought forward. He sat In the dark living room, planning his first moves. Mariya came in after a while and ' sat beside him, not speaking. She brought him food on a tray and asked him if he wanted to watch TV. He shook his head and put the food aside. A little later, she went quietly to bed. Yuri came in at midnight, a little drunk. He entered the living room and switched on the light. He was surprised to see his father sitting there. He took a frightened step back. Rostov stood up and looked at his elder son, remembering the growing pains of his own teenage years, the misdirected anger, the clear, narrow vision of right and wrong, the quick humiliations and the slow acquisition of knowledge. "YurL" he said, "I want to apologize for hitting you." Yuri burst into tears. Rostov put an arm around his broad shoulders and led him toward his room. "We were both wrong, you and I," he continued. "Your mother, too. I'm going away again soon, rfl try to bring back a new guitar." He wanted to kiss his son, but they had gotten like Westerners, afraid to kiss. Gently, he pushed him into the bedroom and closed the door on him. Going back to the living room, he realized that in the last few minutes his plans had hardened into shape in his mind. He sat in the armchair again, this time with a soft pencil and a sheet of paper, and began to draft a memorandum.
TO: Chairman, Committee for State Security, PRom: Acting Chief, European Desk copy: Chief, European Desk DATE: 24 May 1968 Comrade Andropov: My department chief, Feliks Vorontsov, is absent today and I feel that the following matters are too urgent to await his return. An agent in Luxembourg has reported the sighting there of the Israeli operative Nathaniel ("Nat") David Jonathan Dickstein, alias Edward ("Ed") Rodgers, known as The Pirate. Dickstein was born in Stepney, East London, in 1925, the son of a shopkeeper. The father died in 1938, the mother in 1951. Dickstein joined the British Army in 1943, fought in Italy, was promoted sergeant and taken prisoner at La Molina. After the war he went to Oxford University to read Semitic Languages. In 1948 he left Oxford without graduating and emigrated to Palestine, where he began almost immediately to work for the Mossad. At first he was involved in stealing and secretly buying arms for the Zionist state. In the Fifties he mounted an operation against an Egyptian-supported group of Palestinian freedom fighters based in the Gaza Strip, and was personally responsible for the booby-trap bomb which killed Commander Aly. In the late Fifties and early Sixties he was a leading member of the assassination team which hunted escaped Nazis. He directed the terrorist effort against German rocket scientists working for Egypt in 1963-4. - On his file the entry under "Weaknesses" reads: "None known." He appears to have no family, either in Palestine or elsewhere. He is not interested in alcohol, narcotics or gambling. He has no known romantic liaisons, and there is on his file a speculation that he may be sexually frozen as a result of being the subject of medical experiments conducted by Nazi scientists. I, personally, knew Dickstein intimately in the fortnative years 1947-8, when we were both at Oxford University. I played chess with him. I initiated his file. I have followed his subsequent career with special interest. He now appears to be operating in the territory which has been my specialty for twenty years. I doubt if there is anyone among the 110,000 employees of your committee who is as well qualified as I am to oppose this formidable Zionist operative. I therefore recommend that you assign me to discover what Dickstein's mission is and, if appropriate, to stop him. (signed) David Rostov.
TO: Acting Chief, European Desk FROM: Chairman, Committee for State Security COPY: Chief, European Desk DATE: 24 May 1968 Comrade Rostov: Your recommendation is approved. (signed) Yuri Andropov. TIUPLE
To: Chairman, Committee for State Security PRom: Chief, European Desk copy: Deputy Chief, European Desk DATE: 26 May 1968 Comrade Andropov: I refer to the exchange of memoranda which took place between yourself and my deputy, David Rostov, during my recent short absence on State business in Novosibirsk. Naturally I agree wholeheartedly with Comrade Rostov's concern and your approval thereof, although I feel there was no good reason for his haste. As a field agent Rostov does not, of course, see things in quite the mane broad perspective as his superiors, and there is one aspect of the situation which he failed to bring to your attention. The current investigation of Dickstein was initiated by our Egyptian allies, and indeed at this moment remains exclusively their undertaking. For political reasons I would not recommend that we brush them aside without a second thought, as Rostov seems to think we can. At most, we should offer them our cooperation. Needless to say, this latter undertaking, involving as it would international liaison between intelligence services, ought to be handled at chief-of-desk level rather than deputy-chief level. (Signed) Feliks Vorontsov.