have a card printed up.”
“That’s right. But
you
didn’t”
He looked at me for a long moment “I don’t suppose it makes any difference. Yes, like your husband, I am a KGB agent”
“Okay. Then answer the obvious question. Why are you—”
“I may answer some questions if I’m satisfied with your own answers.” “No, you first.”
“I have the gun.” Suddenly there was a small pistol in his left hand.
Literally
suddenly; no blur of motion, no noise. Just a sudden gun, and not the one still bulging his pocket.
“How did you do that?”
“Trick of the trade.” He rubbed his hands together and it was gone. “Your husband’s trade, I remind you.”
“My husband was never involved in anything to do with guns. And you can’t make me—”
He rose halfway out of his chair and slapped me on the lips, lightly, but with that snakelike speed. Thenhe held his hand out in front of me. There was a single-edged razor palmed between thumb and finger.
“Think,” he said. “Pretty lips.” Then he slipped out of the chair and was too quickly standing by the door. “Next time we will discuss your husband… and his guns.”
I felt the violating touch, almost a caress, for some time afterward.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
NICK
How do you get a job as a spy? The location of the Langley, Virginia, headquarters of the CIA isn’t kept secret nowadays, but you would feel conspicuous driving to the end of the long, deserted road and asking the heavily armed guards for a job application. People probably do it. I thought I’d have better luck downtown on C Street, at the State Department Office of Intelligence and Research, Personnel Section.
I took a senior clerk to lunch after convincing her I was a long-lost college chum. She wanted to eat in the cafeteria downstairs, but I insisted on something fancier. The State Department might or might not snoop on its employees while they were on home turf, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t have any microphones hidden in a popular seafood restaurant a ten-dollar cab ride away.
It was a long lunch and a productive one. She memorized the various data to be entered into thepersonnel system and explained how she could get around the hidden redundancy checks.
She had been at the State Department for more than twenty-five years. I “suggested” that she start the paperwork for retirement. Her job wouldn’t be worth a handful of shredded memos once they traced my path back to her, as they inevitably would. The wheels of the gods grind slow, but they grind everybody.
Washington was all cold slush and grime, so I was just as happy to have to stay home by the phone. Bought a bunch of books about the CIA. The reading was as much diversion as preparation. There was no point in planning ahead too carefully, since my course of action would be determined by what they knew about Valerie. But the more I knew about the Agency, the better I would be able to improvise.
I was surprised to hear from Langley the very next morning. Indeed they did have an opening, a quite specific one, for someone with my background. Would I come talk with Richard Goldman at my earliest convenience?
The cab driver was happy at the long fare and impressed by the destination. I tried to be suitably offhand and mysterious.
I’d expected some sort of cloak-and-dagger business at the guards’ post, but they just waved us through. I made a joke about Iranian terrorists, and the driver laughed but looked around furtively.
That truck-bombing epidemic a few years back may have had some effect on the way the plant was arranged. There were lots of widely spaced low white buildings with no numbers or other markings apparent; no one building seemed more important than any other. The main road ended in a circle, where abuilding was identified with a discreet INFORMATION/RECEPTION sign. I paid the cabbie and he drove off very slowly.
I walked through an airpoirt-style metal detector and identified myself to an
“That’s right. But
you
didn’t”
He looked at me for a long moment “I don’t suppose it makes any difference. Yes, like your husband, I am a KGB agent”
“Okay. Then answer the obvious question. Why are you—”
“I may answer some questions if I’m satisfied with your own answers.” “No, you first.”
“I have the gun.” Suddenly there was a small pistol in his left hand.
Literally
suddenly; no blur of motion, no noise. Just a sudden gun, and not the one still bulging his pocket.
“How did you do that?”
“Trick of the trade.” He rubbed his hands together and it was gone. “Your husband’s trade, I remind you.”
“My husband was never involved in anything to do with guns. And you can’t make me—”
He rose halfway out of his chair and slapped me on the lips, lightly, but with that snakelike speed. Thenhe held his hand out in front of me. There was a single-edged razor palmed between thumb and finger.
“Think,” he said. “Pretty lips.” Then he slipped out of the chair and was too quickly standing by the door. “Next time we will discuss your husband… and his guns.”
I felt the violating touch, almost a caress, for some time afterward.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
NICK
How do you get a job as a spy? The location of the Langley, Virginia, headquarters of the CIA isn’t kept secret nowadays, but you would feel conspicuous driving to the end of the long, deserted road and asking the heavily armed guards for a job application. People probably do it. I thought I’d have better luck downtown on C Street, at the State Department Office of Intelligence and Research, Personnel Section.
I took a senior clerk to lunch after convincing her I was a long-lost college chum. She wanted to eat in the cafeteria downstairs, but I insisted on something fancier. The State Department might or might not snoop on its employees while they were on home turf, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t have any microphones hidden in a popular seafood restaurant a ten-dollar cab ride away.
It was a long lunch and a productive one. She memorized the various data to be entered into thepersonnel system and explained how she could get around the hidden redundancy checks.
She had been at the State Department for more than twenty-five years. I “suggested” that she start the paperwork for retirement. Her job wouldn’t be worth a handful of shredded memos once they traced my path back to her, as they inevitably would. The wheels of the gods grind slow, but they grind everybody.
Washington was all cold slush and grime, so I was just as happy to have to stay home by the phone. Bought a bunch of books about the CIA. The reading was as much diversion as preparation. There was no point in planning ahead too carefully, since my course of action would be determined by what they knew about Valerie. But the more I knew about the Agency, the better I would be able to improvise.
I was surprised to hear from Langley the very next morning. Indeed they did have an opening, a quite specific one, for someone with my background. Would I come talk with Richard Goldman at my earliest convenience?
The cab driver was happy at the long fare and impressed by the destination. I tried to be suitably offhand and mysterious.
I’d expected some sort of cloak-and-dagger business at the guards’ post, but they just waved us through. I made a joke about Iranian terrorists, and the driver laughed but looked around furtively.
That truck-bombing epidemic a few years back may have had some effect on the way the plant was arranged. There were lots of widely spaced low white buildings with no numbers or other markings apparent; no one building seemed more important than any other. The main road ended in a circle, where abuilding was identified with a discreet INFORMATION/RECEPTION sign. I paid the cabbie and he drove off very slowly.
I walked through an airpoirt-style metal detector and identified myself to an
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