by Joseph Kanon
“Yes, but you know how I forget things.” A habit meant to be charming. “So. I’m happy to meet you, Frank’s brother.” She dipped her head. “I want to hear everything. How he was, as a little boy. But tomorrow—you must have so much to do,” she said to Joanna. “I didn’t mean—it was just the icebox.”
“I’ll send the handyman over,” Joanna said.
“Can I bring anything to lunch?”
“No, I’ve got Eva to help. Just come.”
“It’s always so well organized here,” Marzena said to Simon, who was looking at her more carefully now. A pretty woman who thought herself a beauty, her face always tilted toward the light, a harmless vanity. Her eyes were lively, the way Joanna’s had been when she danced, and he saw that for Marzena the world was still a ballroom, filled with partners to please. “Were you good friends as boys?” she said. Small talk, just to get a response.
“Yes,” he said. “Best friends.”
“So you know all his secrets,” she said.
“Not anymore.”
“No,” she said, an awkward moment.
Simon bent down to pat the dog, the first he could remember seeing in Russia. But there must be dogs everywhere. Were there breeders? Kennel clubs? The whole pet world that had grown up around them at home? Or had they barely survived the war, a time too hungry for pets. Just a small moment, petting a dog, and he realized again how little he knew.
“Look how she is with you. You can tell a lot about a man from the dogs, how they are with you.” Her eyes on Simon, actively flirting now.
“She must miss Perry,” Joanna said.
Marzena nodded, suddenly fighting back tears, her voice shifting down. “It’s so sad to see. She sits by his chair. Waiting. But of course he doesn’t come.”
“Marzena’s husband,” Joanna said, explaining. “He died a few weeks—”
“I can’t believe it either. I’m like Pani. I look at his chair. Waiting.”
“I’m sorry,” Simon said automatically.
“It’s one thing if you’re old. You expect such things. But so young— At first you can’t stand it,” Marzena said. “But do you know what helps? The dog. After it happened, I didn’t want to get out of bed. But Pani has to be fed. Go for walks. So you get up and you go on. And time passes. Well, you have things to do. You’ll mention it to Frank? The icebox? But only if it’s not too late. He’s always such a good friend to us,” she said to Simon. “Anything to help. Come, Pani.” She made a clicking sound.
Joanna, hands still full of lilacs, watched her go. “Always such a good friend,” she said in Marzena’s accent. “God.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “How about a drink? It’s not too early.”
“What about the mushrooms?”
“They’ll keep.” She looked over at him. “Just one.”
She came back with two small glasses of vodka, giving one to him.
“You know how handy he is.” Marzena’s voice again. “She probably pulled the plug out.” She tossed back the drink. “Bottle blonde.”
“You don’t like her?”
“Ha,” she said, swallowing the drink.
“Then why ask her for lunch?”
“They live in the next dacha over. We’re friends. We’re supposed to be friends,” she corrected herself. “Well, Frank is.” She looked at the Service car in the driveway, then took the glasses and left them on the steps. “Come on.”
They started across the lawn toward the trees, opposite the way Marzena had gone.
“He shot himself, didn’t he? The husband,” Simon said.
“Unless she shot him. Or Frank shot him.”
“What?”
“Not that he had to shoot him. Maybe it was just enough, if he knew.”
“Knew what?”
Joanna waved a hand in front of her face, shooing this away. “Nothing,” she said quietly. “Nothing.”
They had passed into a grove of birches, the ground still wet from the rain.
“Knew what?”
“Nothing,” she said again and then her shoulders were shaking, head down, hiding tears.
“Jo,” he said, his hand on her arm. “For God’s sake—”
“Sorry,” she said, taking a breath, controlling her shaking. “Do you have—?” She reached out for a handkerchief.
He handed her one, then watched her wipe her eyes, blow her nose. “So stupid,” she said, then started shaking again.
He put his arms around her, drawing her head against his shoulder. “Shh,” he said, smelling her, the damp leaves, feeling her against him. “It’s all right.”
She stayed there for a second, then slowly pulled away, blowing her nose again. “Is it? I thought it wasn’t.”
“What’s wrong?”
She looked up at him. “Well, why shouldn’t you know? You know everything else.” Her voice steadier, over it. “You don’t want to watch the show tomorrow without a playbill. The little glances that nobody else is supposed to see. The way she looks at him. Then his jokes so everything seems normal. Send him over to fix my fridge. Send him over. Just like that. Get one in before dinner. It’s quite a show. And me? Blind, not a clue. Why would I suspect a thing? Everyone being so clever. But that’s what he’s good at, isn’t it?” She stopped, then looked down. “But you never think he’d do it to you. You think it’s different.”
“I don’t believe it.”
She smiled, a halfhearted curve of her mouth. “Still the good angel.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do. Give me some credit.”
“He loves you. He’d do anything for you.” Risk everything, live in hiding.
She brushed her hair back. “Never mind. Nothing like a good cry once in a while. I suppose I look a mess,” she said, pushing at her cheeks. “The funny thing is, I think it’s over. After Perry died—a little unseemly. Even for Frank. Not that it stops her. Come fix my fridge. When all she has to do is pick up the phone. Anything to get him over there. Like before.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was always over there.”
“Maybe he went to see the husband.”
“Why? To talk physics? What would Perry have to say to Frank?”
He heard Frank’s voice at Novodevichy. He drank, he talked. I made notes.
“Of course, you can’t help but wonder. Why he did it. Maybe he found out. Then how do you live with that? So Frank’s not running over anymore.”
“Maybe you’re imagining things.”
She shrugged. “Watch tomorrow. Then you tell me.”
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“What’s that like? When it doesn’t mean anything?” She wiped her eyes again, then cheeks. “So unfair. Men just look the way they look. We have to—” She glanced up. “You know that song? Pick yourself up. Dust yourself off. I used to think that was me. But it keeps getting harder. Each time—knocks something out of you. I thought after Richie—” She gave back the handkerchief. “Thanks. I shouldn’t have— You won’t say anything to Frank. Promise?”
“He doesn’t know?”
“That I know?” She shook her head. “My secret, for a change. Everybody else has one, why not me? Watch me tomorrow. Not a clue. What would be the point? We’d just argue and how would that end? I don’t have a lot of options here. Or haven’t you noticed.”
But you will, he wanted to say. A fresh start, a whole new life. With Frank? In hiding too? What Frank assumed. But the Service wouldn’t care about her. Just Frank, the defector. What would happen if she did have options? Why hadn’t he told her?
“There, how do I look?” she said. “Let’s go give the comrades a drink. Funny, coming all this way just to go over timetables.”
“Jo—”
She put her hand on his a
rm. “I’m okay. Really. Sometimes it’s nice to have a shoulder, though.”
He smiled, not knowing what else to say. “Any time.”
“But nothing to Frank. I know how you are. But not this. My secret.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
She raised an eyebrow, dismissing this. “Yes, what if.”
As they walked across the lawn, they could see Frank saying good-bye to the visitors, leaning into the car window for a final word, then waving them off.
“I thought you’d be hours,” Joanna said.
“No, we’re all set. I told them the Astoria in Leningrad. You liked it the last time.”
“Marzena was here,” Joanna said, her voice flat.
“Already?”
“Her fridge is on the blink or something. And would you take a look.”
“Why doesn’t she just call the gate? Send a maintenance—”
“But you’re right here. I said you might be tied up, so you have an out.”
“No, she’ll just come back. Want to take a walk?” he said to Simon. “It’s not far. Have a cigar before dinner.” He pulled one out of his breast pocket. “Cuban.” An enticement. “The boys brought some.”
Simon had been watching them, an innocent volley, neither giving anything away, but now Frank’s eyes were more insistent. Come with me.
“You’d better put on some boots. It’s wet,” Joanna said, turning to go, done with it.
They took the path past the garden, through trees and then a small clearing, no other houses in sight.
“We have the go-ahead for Wednesday. That give you enough time to wrap up the book?”
“Wednesday,” Simon said.
“I moved the time up. Just in case,” he said, looking at Simon, not saying more. “We’re on the night train. The Red Arrow.” He took a puff on the cigar. “Always popular with foreign visitors. They like the cover, by the way. I knew they would. What would I be doing poking around the Baltics by myself? Now the Agency won’t suspect—”
“But they know.”
“Stay on our side of the board. The Service operation.”
“Which is what, exactly? You never say.”
“It’s better to—” He stopped, catching Simon’s look.
“I think I’m entitled to know. Now.”
Frank nodded. “The Agency’s been in touch with a dissident group. Now they’re coming to make contact. And we’ll be there.”
“Are they?”
“Of course not. They’re coming to get me,” he said, explaining something to a child. “There is no Agency operation. Except the one I planned. A typical operation, like the ones I used to run, the same details, so it’s plausible. Everything has to be plausible. We round up the group, then we intercept the boat. And something else happens. The last minute, when it’s too late.”
“On the boat.”
“Right.”
“From Leningrad.”
“No, we’re tourists in Leningrad. What we want the Agency to think.” He looked at Simon. “If they were watching. Which we want the Service to think. Keep the board straight. Then Tallinn, next stop, then Riga. But we never get to Riga. Just the boat in Tallinn.”
“Why Tallinn?”
“I know the Service chief there. He’s like Pirie, thinks he’s God’s gift and doesn’t know his ass from his elbow. He’ll go along with anything he thinks the Service wants. The station chief in Leningrad is good. He might have a question or two. We can’t risk that. And it’s further away from international waters. The Agency wouldn’t dream of trying to make contact near Leningrad. But Estonia—”
“It’s still the Soviet Union.”
“But they don’t think so, bless them. You know how the Agency is about that. Still fighting the good fight.”
Simon glanced over at him. Almost a hum in his voice.
“Besides, there really is a group of dissidents in Tallinn. Estonian nationalists. Everything plausible, remember?”
“Like the Latvians,” Simon said, half to himself. He looked up. “What happens to them?”
“What’s going to happen to them anyway. But this way it works for us.”
“Jesus, Frank—” Simon said, his stomach turning.
“If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else. The Service knows about them. They really are enemies of the state.”
“This state.”
“That’s right. My last job for the Service.” He turned. “It buys us out, Jimbo. We’re in this. They’re going to find Gareth. We don’t have time to change plans now. Just get out. Don’t worry, you won’t have anything to do with the Estonians. Your hands are clean.”
Simon looked down at them, not just hands in a metaphor. Pushing against his windpipe.
“Why don’t I leave now then? Tomorrow. Just go. You don’t need me anymore.”
Frank stopped, alarmed. “You try to leave now, it throws a red flag before the play starts. The Service already approved the trip. Any change— You’re the cover. For the Agency.”
“But the Agency—”
“Stay on our side of the board. You make everything plausible. Besides, I need you to take Jo out.”
“What?”
“The boat’s a Service operation. Armed. I’m supposed to be bringing the Agency in. So how would I explain either of you? You’re going to take the ferry to Helsinki. I have it all timed. All planned.” He dropped the cigar and put his hand on Simon’s shoulder. “One more meeting with DiAngelis. We’re almost there.”
Marzena’s dacha was more modest than Frank’s, a three-room cottage with only tarred shingles for insulation, a summer place. The problem with the refrigerator turned out to be a blown fuse, easily fixed. Simon looked for some trace of guile, the fridge an excuse to see Frank, but there was nothing but wide-eyed gratitude, electrical switches a genuine mystery. They were familiar with each other, neighbors, no more. Or maybe it was because he was there, a chaperone. Frank’s idea.
The talk over the thank-you drink was idle, about nothing, so Simon watched the conversation in their faces, the way he used to watch Diana and her men, waiting for the second he wasn’t supposed to see. A chance encounter at a restaurant, a party, and then a look between them and Simon would know. He used to wonder how it had started, what signal. A glance? A shift in the air? What had they said? A kind of sexual recruitment, maybe the way Frank had been recruited to the Party, with promises.
But he saw none of that here, not even the studied politeness Diana used to cover things, giving herself away by not looking at all. Instead Frank seemed amused by her, by the charm in her vanity, but also wary, someone unpredictable. Then what had Jo seen? Her own fears, maybe. A look misinterpreted. Or something real, now part of the past. He looked over at Marzena, suddenly feeling an odd sympathy for the left behind. Whatever she had been, she wasn’t part of the plan. Not even a good-bye.
“You see how she is,” she said to Simon, looking at the dog, curled up next to the chair by the stove. “Always waiting. It makes me so sad to see it.”
“What about you? How are you doing?” Frank said.
“Ouf. How would I be? Sometimes like Pani, sometimes— It’s something new, to be alone like this. You hear sounds at night and then, no sleep.”
“You’re safe here. It’s a Service compound.”
“And he was safe? Perry?”
“Marzena—”
“Yes, I know, you already told me. Foolish. But maybe not so foolish. I don’t believe he would do that to himself. To me. They sent him into exile. So why not—”
“Exile. Half of Russia wants a residence permit for Moscow. A dacha.”
“Where he can’t work. For him, exile. They didn’t trust him. And you know, when they don’t trust you— So why not? Why foolish?”
“He should never have signed
the letter.”
“Oh, a letter,” she said, waving her hand, dismissive. “Such a serious thing. To ask for world peace. Don’t you want world peace?” she said to Simon.
“Everybody does,” Frank said. “But they don’t send letters to international congresses. I know he meant well but it was—awkward. For the Party.”
“So he has to leave Arzamas. Why not just shoot him there?”
“Marzena.”
“And now what? Do they take back the flat? This house? How do I live? I’m afraid.”
“You’re Perry’s widow. The Service always looks after its own. Especially if—”
“He’s famous. Yes, you told me.” She turned to Simon. “You know, when we met, I had no idea he was famous. A nice man. Quiet. How would I know? Then I saw the photographs. When he arrived, the reception. Like a hero. The meeting with Fuchs. You know, they were both at Los Alamos and they never knew each other? So there was a laugh about that, how careful the Service was, they didn’t even know each other. And then what? The letter. Other scientists too, not just him. End the arms race. Not disloyal, a good Communist. Always. And poof.” She waved her arm again. “No clearance. No work. Politically unreliable. Perry, who gave them everything. And no one talks to us. Just you,” she said to Frank. “The others run away, like mice. So he sits here. No more letters. No more anything. And then, when everybody forgets—no one looking—they do it. Tell me I’m wrong,” she said to Frank, suddenly fierce.
“You’re wrong,” he said calmly. “The Service doesn’t work that way. Stop. You’ll make yourself—”
“Crazy. Yes, I feel crazy sometimes. What if I’m right? Then I’m next?”
“You’re not right,” Frank said, still calm.
“Then what was it?” she said, a catch in her voice, real pain. “How could he do it?”
Frank said nothing, letting the air settle, then put his empty glass on the table. “We have to be going,” he said. “You’ll be all right? No more appliances to fix?”
An involuntary smile. “How can you laugh?”
“I’m not laughing. It’s hard. I know.”
She nodded, her face softer, as if she had been stroked. “Oh, and now you’re worried, how will she be tomorrow? With people. The first time since—”