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Authors: Jason Matthews
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he was a case officer, and if he couldn’t control personal urges, well maybe they should have another discussion about what Nate might like to do for the rest of his life. Not daring to breathe, Nate looked at his hands. He raised his head, looking for permission to speak. Forsyth nodded.
“Tom, what if my being with her is what she
wants
. What if it makes her a better spy?”
Forsyth pushed his glasses on top of his head. “It’s not without precedent, giving agents what they want,” he said. “We’ve fed agents’ heroin habits to keep them reporting. I remember a porn-addicted Chinese minister who wouldn’t make meetings unless we had the fuck films rolling when he walked into the safe house. And the shoes, boxes of them, for the Indonesian president’s wife. Jesus she tried on every pair, with me on my knees, working the shoe horn. But we’re not talking about that, not exactly.” Forsyth swiveled in his chair.
“A million years ago, my first tour, I recruited a code clerk from the Czech Embassy in Rome,” Forsyth said. “Cute little thing, shy, couldn’t go out on her own. Cipherines, they called them, had to have an accompanying escort all the time: an older woman, an embassy wife.
“We had an Italian support asset—young guy, sold stereos, but looked like a movie star. Over the space of six months, he seduced the older lady, so every time the two women came out on Saturday afternoon, the escort would sprint up the Via Veneto to get to Romeo’s apartment, leaving our little flower alone. And I was there. Took another six months, but she startedbringing out copies of cable traffic, intel service details, counterintelligence stuff, correspondence with Moscow, some pretty good East Bloc intel—back then Headquarters was nuts for it. Fucking Cold War.”
“How did you recruit her?” asked Nate. “Sounds like she would have been terrified.”
Forsyth spun back in his chair. “It took a while; we walked in the park a lot. I heard about the older brother in the army a hundred times. Started talking about her life, and her dreams—she was twenty-four for Christ’s sake. When she began talking about her work at her embassy, about her code books, it was done, my first recruitment. But it didn’t last.”
Nate waited: Forsyth wasn’t done. “We were both kids. We had been sleeping together, it’s how I closed the deal,” said Forsyth, looking at Nate evenly. “I had genuine feelings for her, but I also told myself a lovesick girl would do more for me. I got emotionally involved and I took my eye off the ball. And she tried smuggling out a reel of crypto tape to surprise me and they stopped her at the front door. Romeo’s girl told him the whole story. Czechs caught her and sent her home, maybe prison, maybe worse. We never heard.”
Nate didn’t say anything. Cars on the boulevard outside were honking at something.
“My chief in Rome didn’t fire me,” said Forsyth, “and twenty years later I’m not going to fire you … yet.” They stared at each other for ten seconds, then Forsyth pointed to the door. “Go out and start stealing secrets. Protect DIVA. Run her professionally. It’s ultimately your decision.”
LYRIC’S SHASHLIK-KEBABS
Cut small cubes of lamb and marinate in lemon juice, oregano, olive oil, salt, and pepper. Thread lamb on skewers and grill until crispy and brown. Slather with thickened yogurt. Serve with onion and cucumber salad.
4
Colonel Alexei Zyuganov had neither the sophistication nor, frankly, the inclination to win Egorova’s loyalty. Personal relationships were not important. No one knew his early history; no one knew anything about his childhood. His father, a prominent
apparatchik,
had disappeared in the early sixties, at the tail end of the Khrushchev purges. His mother was Ekaterina Zyuganova, a well-known figure in the old KGB. Ekaterina had sat on the KGB Executive Council, then as KGB liaison officer in the Secretariat of the
“Tom, what if my being with her is what she
wants
. What if it makes her a better spy?”
Forsyth pushed his glasses on top of his head. “It’s not without precedent, giving agents what they want,” he said. “We’ve fed agents’ heroin habits to keep them reporting. I remember a porn-addicted Chinese minister who wouldn’t make meetings unless we had the fuck films rolling when he walked into the safe house. And the shoes, boxes of them, for the Indonesian president’s wife. Jesus she tried on every pair, with me on my knees, working the shoe horn. But we’re not talking about that, not exactly.” Forsyth swiveled in his chair.
“A million years ago, my first tour, I recruited a code clerk from the Czech Embassy in Rome,” Forsyth said. “Cute little thing, shy, couldn’t go out on her own. Cipherines, they called them, had to have an accompanying escort all the time: an older woman, an embassy wife.
“We had an Italian support asset—young guy, sold stereos, but looked like a movie star. Over the space of six months, he seduced the older lady, so every time the two women came out on Saturday afternoon, the escort would sprint up the Via Veneto to get to Romeo’s apartment, leaving our little flower alone. And I was there. Took another six months, but she startedbringing out copies of cable traffic, intel service details, counterintelligence stuff, correspondence with Moscow, some pretty good East Bloc intel—back then Headquarters was nuts for it. Fucking Cold War.”
“How did you recruit her?” asked Nate. “Sounds like she would have been terrified.”
Forsyth spun back in his chair. “It took a while; we walked in the park a lot. I heard about the older brother in the army a hundred times. Started talking about her life, and her dreams—she was twenty-four for Christ’s sake. When she began talking about her work at her embassy, about her code books, it was done, my first recruitment. But it didn’t last.”
Nate waited: Forsyth wasn’t done. “We were both kids. We had been sleeping together, it’s how I closed the deal,” said Forsyth, looking at Nate evenly. “I had genuine feelings for her, but I also told myself a lovesick girl would do more for me. I got emotionally involved and I took my eye off the ball. And she tried smuggling out a reel of crypto tape to surprise me and they stopped her at the front door. Romeo’s girl told him the whole story. Czechs caught her and sent her home, maybe prison, maybe worse. We never heard.”
Nate didn’t say anything. Cars on the boulevard outside were honking at something.
“My chief in Rome didn’t fire me,” said Forsyth, “and twenty years later I’m not going to fire you … yet.” They stared at each other for ten seconds, then Forsyth pointed to the door. “Go out and start stealing secrets. Protect DIVA. Run her professionally. It’s ultimately your decision.”
LYRIC’S SHASHLIK-KEBABS
Cut small cubes of lamb and marinate in lemon juice, oregano, olive oil, salt, and pepper. Thread lamb on skewers and grill until crispy and brown. Slather with thickened yogurt. Serve with onion and cucumber salad.
4
Colonel Alexei Zyuganov had neither the sophistication nor, frankly, the inclination to win Egorova’s loyalty. Personal relationships were not important. No one knew his early history; no one knew anything about his childhood. His father, a prominent
apparatchik,
had disappeared in the early sixties, at the tail end of the Khrushchev purges. His mother was Ekaterina Zyuganova, a well-known figure in the old KGB. Ekaterina had sat on the KGB Executive Council, then as KGB liaison officer in the Secretariat of the
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