by William Hood
The Sunday Spy
William Hood
© William Hood 1996
William Hood has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in 1996 by W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.
This edition published in 2016 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
For John Bross and Edward Grainger.
As always, with special thanks to Mary Carr.
Go search for people who are hurt by fate or nature … those suffering from an inferiority complex, craving power and influence but defeated by unfavorable circumstances … In cooperation with us, all of these End a peculiar compensation — a sort of secret compensation … The sense of belonging to an influential, powerful organization will give them a feeling of superiority over the handsome and prosperous people around them
— Attributed to General Pavel Sudoplatov, KGB (Nikolai Khokhlov, In the Name of the Conscience; New York: David McKay Company, 1959)
Table of Contents
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1
New York, August 1991
“How on earth did you come upon this place?” The diplomat peered peevishly along the dimly lighted bar, and into the empty restaurant at the rear. He paused to scowl at a collection of framed book jackets interspersed with scattered photographs of race horses and baseball players on the wall beside the booths.
“I tried to think of something convenient for you, close to the U.N., but far enough away so you’re not likely to be bothered by anyone you know … “ Charlotte Mills’s voice trailed off as she noticed his grim expression.
The diplomat eased himself into the booth. “Until you telephoned, I didn’t even know the Department had assigned you to New York, and the U.N. mission.”
“I’ve been here ever since I got back from Moscow … “
The diplomat cocked his head slightly and said, “As pleased as I am to see you again, Miss Mills — it is Charlotte, isn’t it? — this might have been more convenient and looked less like an assignation if you’d just dropped by the eleventh floor and told the secretary you’d like to say hello.”
“I knew this would be a terrible nuisance for you, but I didn’t know what to do … “
He raised his eyebrows, acknowledging her remark. “I don’t mean to seem impolite, but I’ve had the very devil of a day, and I’ve got to get the shuttle back to Washington in time for a working dinner tonight.” He managed a tight smile. “In truth, I can’t imagine what prompted you to telephone me at the hotel … “
“I telephoned you because I’m being blackmailed,” she said, her soft voice breaking.
“You’re what?”
The diplomat turned to glare at the waitress brushing against the corner of the booth. “You want menus?” she asked.
“I should think not,” the diplomat said. “Just an aperitif.” He looked more closely at Charlotte, wondering how much she might already have had to drink. “Unless you’d prefer something more solid, a sandwich?”
“Just a drink,” she said. “Stoli on the rocks … “
“A dry sherry,” the diplomat said. “Tio Pepe if you have it.”
The waitress sniffed and turned away.
“I hated to bother you,” Charlotte said. “If I weren’t desperate, I’d never have had the courage to telephone … “ Her eyes watered as she rummaged in her handbag for a handkerchief.
“Until two minutes ago I thought I’d heard just about every problem the distaff help can conceivably get themselves into,” he said. “This is a new experience, but I can assure you that you’ve got my undivided attention.”
“It’s just that when I saw your name on the visitor list, I remembered how much you knew about the Russians, and how kind you were to me in Moscow.”
The diplomat made a dismissive gesture and glanced at the barman and waitress huddled near the cash register.
“I’ve got myself in terrible, terrible trouble,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a lipstick-stained handkerchief. “I don’t know where to turn … “
“The sooner you can give me some notion of what this is all about, the more time we’ll have to deal with it.”
Now Charlotte glanced anxiously around the bar. Looking flushed and sticky, she had let her linen jacket fall in a heap beside her on the banquette.
“Did I hear you correctly?” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper.
Charlotte nodded. “I think so.”
“Why on earth would anyone want to blackmail you?”
The waitress lingered for a moment before sliding both glasses in front of the diplomat. “I think I’ll just leave the drinks here, you can sort them out yourselves.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“You want to run a tab, or pay me now?”
“Later, if you please … “ He turned to Charlotte. “Now, tell me about it.”
Charlotte watched as the waitress made her way back to the cash register. “You remember when we were in Moscow together?”
“Not quite together,” he said quickly. “As I recall it, you were one of the embassy secretaries helping to shepherd the delegation I was with when we were visiting Gorbachev in the early days.” Charlotte nodded. “I was the senior administrative assistant.” He remembered her as a plain, muffin-faced woman. She was still plain, but now seemed badly worn as well. Her jacket was not clean, her mouse-brown hair was messy, and such makeup as she had applied did not hide the circles under her eyes. The diplomat took a sip of sherry. He lowered his eyes and glanced quickly at his watch. “Now, what about this trouble you say you’re in?”
Charlotte leaned forward, elbows on the table, her fingers pressed against her brow. “About the time you were in Moscow, I got involved with this Russian,” she said. “We began seeing one another. Right off, on our first date at the museum, he warned me that the embassy would send me home if I told the security people I had found a Russian friend.” She dabbed at her eyes before saying, “You remember, we were all supposed to file a memorandum on any locals we met?”
“That’s cold-war stuff,” he said. “You wouldn’t have been sent home unless the fellow was known to our security people as a bad hat. Who is he?”
“An actor. At least he said he was an actor at MosFilm and maybe some other place. But I never saw him act or anything.”
“What’s his name?”
She took a deep breath before saying, “That doesn’t matter now. Despite all the promises, I’ve never heard a word from him since … “ Her voice trailed off.
“Since when?” the diplomat asked.
“Since a few weeks after we’d been seeing each other — that was when he told me he’d been arrested for consorting with a foreigner and that the security people had pictures of
us together. He even showed me the photographs. They had everything, mostly things I don’t even want to remember. He said the police tried to make him believe that I was a spy, and that they were going to charge me with corrupting a Russian citizen.”
“Really, Miss Mills … “
“He said if I’d agree to meet his lawyer and a security man, we might be able to talk them out of pressing charges. Dumbo me, I believed him. He took me to what he said was the lawyer’s apartment. Along with the lawyer, if he really was a lawyer, there were three security guys. The lawyer and Yuri argued a little, but in the end the security people said the only way I could avoid a scandal would be if I cooperated. If I didn’t, Yuri would go to jail, and they would send the photographs to everyone — the embassy, the newspapers, and even my family, just to prove I was a spy and to keep anyone else from trying what I did.”
“Come on, Charlotte, they stopped that stuff years ago … “
“That’s what you think. I know different.” Tears ran down her face. “Maybe the people you know believe that, and today maybe even Yeltsin does. But I know different. Those terrible people live in their own world. They don’t care a damn about anything else.” The diplomat shook his head. “I find this very hard to believe.”
“When they said they’d send the pictures to my mother, to the rest of the family, I knew for sure that the whole thing was a fake and that I’d been set up. They had my sister’s address in Detroit, and toward the end, even showed me a picture of my mother coming out of our house in Bethesda … “
“Charlotte, for God’s sake. I really can’t believe this … “
“It’s true, every word.” She buried her face in her handkerchief. The diplomat glanced around the bar as if he were worried that someone might mistake their meeting for a romantic tryst gone wrong. No one was watching.
“Didn’t you tell anyone — the security office, your section chief, anyone?”
“No.”
“In heaven’s name, why not? We’d have had you out of Moscow overnight, and no one would ever have known what happened.”
Charlotte stuffed the soggy handkerchief back into her handbag.
“They said they would send the pictures the minute I told anyone else in the embassy.”
“If you had told someone, the ambassador would have raised hell with the Foreign Office and promised a stiff retaliation if the photos were ever leaked. The new Russian administration understands the old days are over.”
“Not the people they sicced on me. They were terrible to me. They said that if I told any of our people, they’d know, and they’d mail the photographs before the embassy could take any action with the Foreign Office. Once the pictures were sent, they said, there wouldn’t be anything the Foreign Office could do about it.”
“But they wouldn’t have known you had reported to anyone until the embassy raised a rumpus.”
Charlotte shook her head. “That’s exactly what I thought, but they told me different and proved it. They showed me Xerox copies of reports right out of our office, with all our security markings and everything — Top Secret, LIMDIS, EXDIS, everything. They said they were getting the documents through official channels. They said they’d let Yuri and me go if I gave them some independent samples of the stuff they were getting officially. All they wanted was confirmation that the papers the embassy was passing to them were the straight stuff, and they wanted me to help explain it all. I couldn’t believe this, but I wasn’t sure and I was terrified for Yuri and me.”
“They could not have been getting any such papers,” he said. “Surely you know that.”
“By the time they finished threatening me, I didn’t know what to believe … ”
“So, you gave them documents?”
Charlotte nodded. “In my head I knew once I started, they’d never let me go, and of course that was the one thing I was right about. But I was half crazy with worry about Yuri.”
“And you’re still passing them documents?”
Charlotte Mills began to sob.
“Why in heaven’s name did you wait so long before telling someone about this?”
“I just couldn’t risk them sending anything to my mother. It would have killed her. Now it’s different. My mother, God bless her soul, died six weeks ago, right in Washington. They don’t know they’ve lost control because now I don’t care a damn what happens to me. I know plenty, and I’ll do anything I can to pay them back for what they’ve done to me.”
“Lord Almighty … ” The diplomat tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it across the table. “Just what is it you expect me to do?”
“I’m going to hurt them any way I can,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “But even so, I can’t just tell this story to anybody.”
The diplomat shook his head. “The correct thing to do is disclose everything to our security people,” he said slowly. He waited before saying, “But if you do that, and if the Russians find out that you’ve confessed as you say they will, I’m afraid you still have to face the fact they will leak the photographs. They’ll realize that it will be too late to stop you, but they also know that all the publicity will help convince the next fellow that they really mean what they say.” Charlotte pulled herself closer to the table. “I’ve got complete notes on everything I did for them, and everything about all of them, and I’m going to hurt them no matter what.”
The diplomat frowned and pursed his lips. “What makes you think they’ll find out if you talk to security?”
“I don’t know, but I can tell you that in Moscow they had every sensitive briefing document our delegation used in the meetings with Yeltsin and his people. I know that for a fact — they showed me the papers. You should see the list of stuff they’re asking for now on our aid policy, about loans, and what we’re saying to the British and Germans about it.”
“Just what is it you think I can do?”
“You’ve got to tell someone high enough up so no one else will have to know about it,” Charlotte said. “You’re important, you must know someone who’s in a position to do something about it quietly.” She took a sip of vodka. “I’m not stupid, I have a good memory and I’m a very good secretary. I made complete notes on everything they ever said, and everything they asked me about since 1989. I only want two things. I want to hurt them just as much as I can, and I want to swap my notes and everything to protect my pension. All someone has to do is transfer me to a job where I can work enough more years to qualify for early retirement.” She picked up her glass with both hands and drained it.
The diplomat remained silent, his attention fixed on a tobacco-crusted tin ashtray. With a disgusted gesture, he pushed the ashtray to the far corner of the table, and took a sip of sherry. He stared at the photographs on the wall for a few moments before saying slowly, “Now that I think about it, there just may be someone in Washington I might be able to discuss this with … ”
“Tell him that I’ll do anything I can to make things right … ”
“The trouble is,” he said, “I’m going to be out of the country for at least three weeks … ”
“Tell them they can trust me, that I can pass false documents, tell them lies, anything. They must have some use for people who will do anything.”
“Even when I get back, I may not be able to see this man right away … ” He leaned closer to Charlotte. “When are you supposed to see them again?”
“It’s once a month, in the reference room at the Forty-second Street library. I’ve got almost a month before the next meeting.”
“Have you told anyone at all about this?”
“No one,” she said. “There’s no one I dared talk to.”
“Did you tell anyone you were meeting me?”
“Of course I didn’t,” she said. “No one even knows that I know you.”
“You’ve got to promise me two things.”
Charlotte nodded. “Anything … ”
“First, you absolutely must not say a word to
anyone about our talk or about your problem until I get back. Promise?”
“I promise … ”
“Second, from this moment on, you’re not to give your contact any information at all — no documents, no oral reports. Nothing. As of right now, you’re back on our side, and you’re completely under our orders.”
Charlotte’s broad face brightened with relief. “Like I said, I promise absolutely.”
The diplomat looked at his watch. “I really have to go — my driver is waiting and it’s hell to get to La Guardia this time of day.” He smiled and raised his glass to Charlotte. “There,” he said. “Now that you’ve got it off your chest, the world should look a little better.”
She nodded. “I’ll never forget this … ”
“It’s only three weeks, but you’ve got to take care of yourself. Weren’t you one of those wellness people, out running around in your BVDs at all hours?”
“Jogging,” she said with a slight smile. “I try to keep at it, but lately I just haven’t been able to do anything.”
“Along with keeping your promises, you’ve got to perk up, start taking care of yourself, maybe even start jogging again. They say it’s good for the psyche too.”
“I promise … ”
“Now, you’ve got to go,” the diplomat said. He pushed his drink aside. “You leave before me. I’ll take care of the waitress.”
As Charlotte Mills fumbled for her jacket, the diplomat reached across the table and took her hand. “Chin up,” he said.
“I knew you would help … ” She squeezed his hand. “Forever grateful, forever.” She pulled on the jacket, and walked quickly to the door.
The diplomat counted his change and computed the tip at precisely twice the tax.
As he left the restaurant, he remembered that Charlotte had forgotten to return his handkerchief. It was one of two dozen he had ordered, the linen so fine his shirtmaker promised he would be able to read his morning newspaper through it.
The handkerchief was gone, but the diplomat could not imagine sacrificing it in a more worthy cause.
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