by Arno Baker
“Since the two of you have had some clashes in the recent past and he probably sees you as a man-hater and a closet lesbian, he will initially take a singular pleasure in humiliating and dominating you sexually. So be prepared for that kind of situation to begin with. But also remember that you are dealing with a consummate professional who has handled such situations before as a case officer. Once you overcome those obstacles he will be yours but what really matters to us is that he performs and does what we expect him to do.”
Irina understood the plan and deeply resented the role she was being forced to play at age 40. She was convinced that such a part was no longer part of her playbook. But she was wrong.
“Am I to travel with him, then?”
“Yes. A film maker will be producing an extensive documentary in New York and Washington. Most of it will revolve around the Rosenberg case and we shall edit the footage carefully to create the impression for the British and American viewers that the window of candor is wide open in the new Russia. The book follows shortly after the film and can hopefully also be a commercial success... but vast numbers of copies sold are not really all that important. What is important to us is that the book be transformed into an object of intense scrutiny among the people that count and help play a small part in taking the “heat” off Russia by showing how different it is from the USSR. You understand what I mean?”
“Yes, general, I think I do. This is a public relations operation, then?”
“Absolutely! But under strict coordination so that it always remains believable. The new timeline is measured in weeks: you have about six weeks of leisure time to nurse the old man to joyful happiness. The doctors tell us the heart attack was fortunately very minor, and left no permanent damage. Natasha will play her role in the background and the colonel suspects but has not yet completely understood that she also works for the organs. As a true professional he will not let her or you know that he knows. Besides, Natasha is being shifted to another mission in a few days. Her absence will be easily explained by her need to travel to the Caucasus for family reasons. Are you clear about your mission, captain?”
“Yes, general, I am.”
“Details will follow during meetings at the Forest. No further questions then?”
“No sir!”
“Good! You shall be well rewarded once this mission is accomplished.”
The meeting was over and she knew that it could very well be more than a year before she could apply for a new assignment. Mostovoy rose and Irina caught the hard expression of his grey eyes when he looked at her. There was nothing soft about the man even when he tried to be smooth and civilized. But then she expected nothing less.
Natasha disappeared quietly and after a few days Feklisov accepted the situation. It became much simpler once he discovered a new and more compelling love interest. He transitioned easily from the former dancer’s innocence to the seasoned expertise of the ‘professional’ as his relationship with Irina was progressively transformed. To make things even more compelling and by contrast with Natasha, she quickly agreed to move in with him and worked very hard at keeping him both physically satisfied and constantly busy on another potential book project using the material discarded by the editors at headquarters. If it ever were to be published it would have qualified as the most boring and non commercial text ever conceived by a spy. However the colonel was very pleased and very much engrossed in his own writing.
Along with Irina’s eager indulgence in his every whim the new situation made the old man feel positively euphoric.
In less than two months Irina had replaced Natasha at the colonel’s side and in his bed and she was playing her part so perfectly that at times she even felt a strange measure of sincerity surfacing in the relationship. Older men were no secret to her.
An urgent fax message arrived one Monday morning addressed to Col. A. Feklisov…from New York City. Strangely it was dated a few days before and was sent by one Jack Harrison. Feklisov immediately remembered the name of the executive he had met over a year before at Sokoliniki Park during the book exhibit. The cable read,
“Dear Sir,
I shall be visiting Helsinki next week and would like to possibly arrange a meeting with you in Moscow. I shall call you when I arrive in Finland to see if you are free and agree to a suitable time for us to meet. I am still very much interested in your manuscript and hope it is still available.
My best regards.
Jack Harrison, formerly Senior Editor
McAndrews Publishing Company.”
Feklisov was immediately intrigued by the message and wanted to contact the SVR but Irina had little trouble dissuading him saying they had probably already read the cable anyway since it was dated several days prior. They discussed the meaning of certain words,
“He writes ‘formerly’ meaning that he is no longer with McAndrews, am I correct?”
“Yes, we have to assume so.”
She answered as she looked distractedly at the sheet and the answerback code numbers. The message could very well have been concocted two dozen kilometers away in Yasenevo but still it looked perfectly genuine. The phone call came four days later and Mr. Harrison was pleased to hear from Irina that he would be welcome to come over to Moscow for a talk.
Jack was waiting in the lounge of the Hotel Metropole when he spotted Feklisov looking somewhat older as he leaned on Irina‘s arm. The old spy recognized Jack immediately and extended his hand as they all sat down at a table in a darkened corner of the bar.
“I am pleased to see you again Mr. Harrison.”
“Thank you, you must know that after we met last time I was detained at the airport for six hours! I hope it goes faster this time.”
Feklisov just smiled and offered no comment. Irina looked more inquisitive and made her usual show of being very much taken by the American, she was dressed in leather boots and a short tight skirt and Jack noticed that this was not the same woman he‘d seen the colonel with over a year before,
“Your message had the notation ‘formerly of McAndrews…’”
“Ah yes, I left the company three months ago to set up my own imprint: Belmont Books.”
“Very interesting, it’s so new! And are you already operational?” Irina asked showing girlish enthusiasm and batting her eyelashes at Jack.
“I have two partners and we have leased a modest office and hired a secretary so I guess we’re up and running! It’s only three weeks old.”
Irina smiled and kept eye contact with Jack as she sipped her drink.
“Lots of excitement can be heard in your voice, I am pleased to say! But such ventures are difficult to run profitably in America…” said Feklisov forever the anti-capitalist killjoy.
“Well, we have an ambitious program and would like to know if your book project is still on the table?”
Irina cut in with a falsely naïve question that allowed her show her involvement,
“So you feel there is a market for the colonel’s book?”
Feklisov frowned and almost jabbed her with elbow but Jack just smiled and said,
“Publishing is very close to horse racing, so I wouldn’t be too sure of the kind of reception we will have but our feeling is that the moment is indeed favorable.”
“How many copies would you print?”
Jack seemed to want to hedge a bit,
“At the moment I can’t say for sure. But we will let you know very soon and obviously can offer you an advance against future royalties.”
“How much?” asked Feklisov with some irritation at having to pry each detail out of this cagey entrepreneur.
Jack obviously knew what he wanted to say but he let the silence linger for a few more seconds. The kind of gentle posturing that is widely accepted in the trade in order to retain one‘s self respect.
“We can give you a ten thousand dollar advance and 12 percent royalties…”
Irina looked at the colonel who remained poker faced. So she decided to speak up
and put down her glass,
“I find that to be a far too modest advance, Mr. Harrison. It certainly is out of proportion with your trip to Moscow don‘t you think?” she said this with a seductive smile and a discreet move of her body that revealed an unsuspected cleavage. Jack smiled apologetically and couldn‘t help looking at her with a different shine in his eyes,
“I know, clearly we are not McAndrews…I will need to consult with my partners for anything higher...”
Feklisov suddenly interrupted,
“Money is not my objective. I am doing this for Julius and Ethel Rosenberg as well as for history! So, if that is your offer, well then, I will take it upon myself to accept it!”
There was a stunned silence and Irina was speechless as she measured perhaps for the first time the burning passion that had kept the colonel going all those years in pursuit of an impossible dream. Feklisov would have made a pact with the devil to see his book published in America. Jack Harrison was also surprised and perhaps already regretted having been so generous.
“Colonel, I assume the manuscript is now ready?”
Irina exchanged a glance with Feklisov and answered,
“Yes, it is in Russian obviously so it must be translated of course but we can provide you with a very good but unedited translation that you would need to polish into the final text.”
Jack was amazed at all this flexibility as if the Russians were suddenly and very atypically in a huge hurry. But he wasn‘t about to bother with any odd questions. The deal, as far as he was concerned, had been struck. What remained to be settled were only the details.
“I can have a contract drawn up and ready for you to examine and perhaps to sign as early as tomorrow. Is that all right with you?”
“Absolutely!” thundered Feklisov without letting Irina place a single word. He handed Jack a piece of paper that he drew from his jacket pocket with his home address spelled out in Cyrillic and Roman letters as well as his phone number. Jack noticed that Irina looked taken aback as if she could barely contain her impatience with a very naughty child.
“Well then, I think I can have the document ready for you by tomorrow afternoon. Shall we meet at the same time, right here? Is that all right?”
“Yes Mr. Harrison, we shall both be present to sign.”
“Excellent. See you then.”
Irina looked nervous but when she shook hands Jack thought she lingered a bit too long and her eyes flashed at him with surprising insistence. He had the feeling that she was initiating something but he didn’t really pay attention because he was focused on having two clean copies of his standard contract printed up by the hotel’s business center that didn’t appear to be that well organized. That evening Jack sent a fax to his partners saying the deal was done, with a signature set for the following day.
Irina had pretended not to notice that one of the men sitting in a dark corner of the lounge pretending to be engrossed in the Financial Times was none other than Vyacheslav Mostovoy. He was observing the scene and her body language as the short meeting quickly reached its climax and he carefully noticed every movement and expression on Jack Harrison’e face. A few hours later he was on a secure line with Irina,
“Captain, you almost lost control of the colonel! I saw it just by looking at you and then heard it when I listened to the taped conversation. Be very careful with the old man, do not let him wander off on any tangents that both you and the ‘Forest’ will bitterly regret. Understood?”
His voice was harsh and Irina felt the usual fear running down her back whenever her bosses took such a threatening tone. She knew what the price of a major blunder could end up being.
“Yes, general, I understand.”
“I certainly hope so. Now, about this Harrison chap, do you think he will respond to you? Or must we insert a second honeytrap into the operation?”
“My sense is that he has no interest and that his mind is on other things...for the moment.”
There was a short irritated silence,
“Your intuition is probably correct, captain. But I think you must try harder and wet his appetite. Harrison has a live-in paramour in New York, an abstract painter named Monica Waters. Therefore we may assume that his physiological and psychological needs are probably well cared for. Still I recommend that you initiate a definite pass or a more romantic approach to Harrison, I leave that to your expertise. He is someone we must cultivate.”
Mostovoy ended the call abruptly as usual. He could tell that Irina was nervous and that she had hesitated about refusing to comply with the last suggestion. He knew that she wanted to take early retirement after 25 years of service. But that decision was not his or hers to make and he could only recommend it in his report. Her immediate task was to perform as required by the SVR or risk a reprimand or in the worse case confinement in a mental institution...if she became even less malleable other measures would apply.
XXVIII
Paris, January 1953…The man who went by the name of Lucien Barnave looked a bit older than his 62 years mainly because of his rough, weathered face, and the spent look of the old hand who has been through the mill. Dressed in standard cheap suits like a small businessman from the provinces, Savigny thought he looked like a “tough customer.”
Albert de Savigny, a former officer of the Deuxième Bureau, French military intelligence in Indochina, was meeting with Barnave for the first time in the back room of the café Sélect directly across the restaurant la Coupole on the boulevard Montparnasse. It was a cold day and people rushed around bundled up in their heavy coats and scarves as a merciless wind swept across the somber French capital.
Savigny knew of Lucien Barnave as a reporter who specialized in the Soviet Union for several leftist dailies: he was known to have entrée to the higher circles of the French Communist Party and the Kremlin. Those claiming to be in the know insisted that he met regularly with Stalin, which was considered a very rare privilege. While Stalin knew about Barnave they had actually only met once. Savigny only had a sketchy knowledge of the man and was surprised to discover the exhausted look of someone who was under tremendous pressure. They both ordered drinks and Savigny began,
“The foreign minister’s office asked that I meet with you…”
He was attempting to explain how the meeting had been set up.
“Very kind of him, I know how busy monsieur Bidault must be but I wanted him to be personally aware of this démarche.”
He spoke in a very low gravelly voice and his black eyes were mostly hidden behind a thick pair of tinted glasses. Suddenly he stopped as the waiter tidied up the table and served two beers “demi pression”.
“Monsieur Barnave, you may speak freely with me. I am instructed to relay everything back to the minister himself, obviously.”
Barnave cleared his throat, took a sip of beer and said lowering his voice further to drown it in the low rumble emanating from the vast main room of the café.
“Monsieur Savigny, what I must tell you is for your ears only and for the minister, I insist that extreme caution be maintained …”
“I understand perfectly and if necessary we can meet at a secure location…”
“No, there’s no time for elaborate preparations, the matter is urgent.”
Savigny understood that this was no longer the voice and attitude of the inquiring reporter but of the operative in the field,
“Go ahead.”
Barnave was now almost whispering,
“The top man is showing disturbing signs of rapidly advanced senility and this is making the rest of the leadership very nervous. They fear that with his total control of the organs he may do or order something irreparable that might endanger the regime.”
Savigny was startled and began having doubts about the bona fides of his counterpart.
“And these people in the leadership are...?”
“This is a delicate subject because they cannot be named. You must trust me and my sources implicitly, and please check my c
redentials…”
“I understand, this will remain between us but I will have to answer questions when I get back to the ministry.”
Barnave nodded,
“Of course, I understand. First, my principals want the assurance that this message will be transmitted directly to President Eisenhower. Second, that British intelligence and its diplomatic functionaries will not be involved. This is an non-negotiable demand.”
Savigny, was even more amazed, and said,
“I am sure this can be arranged even though....I don’t see why?”
Barnave wasted no time in making the point,
“The British, and this is important for you and the Americans to bear in mind, are completely penetrated and even their internal communications are not secure. Their services have not been fully cleaned out since Burgess and Maclean and Klaus Fuchs. So those I am talking with do not want anything to leak back to the organs…So no Brits. But the real question they ask is the following: should a sudden change take place at the top what would the American attitude be?”
“What do you mean?”
“How would they react or not react? The group needs to know whether the Americans might try and take advantage of possible confusion or allow a change to take place without intervening or attempting to destabilize the Soviet regime.”
“You mean that they fear armed intervention against the USSR?”
“I cannot confirm whether this is precisely the case. I wasn’t told.”
Savigny was trying not to show how nervous he was about Barnave‘s direct questions that were turning him into a negotiator for what appeared to be a well organized dissident group about to stage a coup d’état.
“I will have to get back to you…”
Barnave looked impatient and nervous,