Red Sparrow

The chief of Line R (Operational Planning and Analysis) was responsible for evaluating all SVR operations abroad. Alushevsky’s English was perfect, after years in London. After returning from Britain, Alushevsky had drifted toward planning and analysis because it suited him. He had an intellect and an inquiring mind. He was, thought Vanya, also a political naïf. It seemed most unlikely that Alushevsky could be the mole. Still, he had evaluated the Washington rezidentura’s procedures in handling “the sensitive source” and it was Alushevsky who suggested the use of the Zeta countersurveillance team to protect Rezident Golov during monthly meetings. Therefore Vanya would include him in his canary-trap test.

“Boris, sit down, please,” said Egorov. He liked and respected Alushevsky for his work ethic and intelligence. “I have reviewed your recommendations regarding security upgrades in Washington, and I approve.”

“Thank you, Ivan Dimitrevich,” said Alushevsky. “General Golov is utterly professional on the street. He rarely has FBI surveillance. His assessment is that the Americans believe an officer of his rank and stature would never involve himself in agent handling. It’s an advantage to us. The Zeta Team is thorough, discreet. They will provide added protection.” Alushevsky accepted a cigarette from Egorov, offered from a mahogany box with a tortoiseshell lid.

“Excellent,” said Egorov.

“Technical officers in the rezidentura likewise are listening to FBI surveillance frequencies with special care. They especially are looking for anomalies in radio procedure. A change in tactics could indicate heightened interest by the opposition,” Alushevsky explained simply, not sure Egorov understood the nuances of the game.

“Boris, I would like you to continue monitoring the security situation and our countermeasures. We have a little extra time to assess the situation.”

“How so, Ivan Dimitrevich?” asked Alushevsky.

“I cannot discuss the details of General Golov’s case, I regret I cannot, but you surely understand,” said Egorov. “It is through no lack of confidence in you, I assure you.”

“Of course I understand,” said Alushevsky. “Security is security.” There was no trace of resentment in his voice.

“I can tell you that Golov’s source has to suspend activities for a time. A matter of illness, quite serious, actually.” Egorov looked at Alushevsky mildly.

“How long a hiatus will we have?” asked Alushevsky. “It will be important for General Golov not to become suddenly inactive. He must exactly mirror his previous activity levels. Any change in his profile could alert the opposition, and that would be doubly dangerous when the general resumes activity in the case.”

“I do not know exactly how long the agent will be inactive. Recovery from heart bypass surgery can be lengthy or quick. We shall have to wait and see.”

“With your permission, I will draft some additional thoughts for your consideration, and for forwarding to General Golov.”

“By all means, I would like to see your ideas. Please submit them as soon as you finish,” said Egorov, rising from his seat. “I repeat that I am greatly pleased with your work. Your leadership of Line R is quite satisfactory.” Egorov steered Alushevsky to the door and shook his hand.

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SVR Americas Department Chief General Vladimir Andreiyevich Korchnoi walked into the outer reception area of Egorov’s office twenty minutes late. Egorov’s personal aide Dimitri came out of his cubicle and shook hands. Korchnoi took in the fussed disapproval of the two secretaries sitting behind their desks, but he greeted them by name, and his deep brown eyes twinkled under his bushy white brows as he sat on the corner of one desk and told a story. “There was an announcement of the highest adultery level: First place, Movie Stars; second place, Theater Actors; third place, KGB. Someone shouts: I’ve been in the KGB for thirty years and I never cheated on my wife! Someone else shouts: It’s because of people like you that we’re in third place!”

The secretaries and Dimitri all laughed. Dimitri poured a glass of water for Korchnoi from a carafe on the sideboard. One of the secretaries was in the process of telling another joke when the leather-padded inner door to Egorov’s office opened and the deputy director appeared. The secretaries quickly bent their heads to their desks and resumed work. Dimitri nodded courteously at Korchnoi, then at his boss, and retreated into his little cubicle. Egorov surveyed the outer office.

“Quite a lot of merriment out here,” said Egorov sternly. “It’s no wonder we cannot get anything done.”