Red Sparrow

“Director, the blame is totally mine,” said Korchnoi with mock humility. “I disrupted this office with the telling of a silly story, a ridiculous waste of time.”

“Yes, and twenty minutes late on top of it,” said Egorov. “I trust you have time to speak with me now?” Egorov spun on his heel and went into his office. Korchnoi followed him, nodding at the secretaries as he walked past. The door closed behind him and the secretaries looked at each other, smiling, before returning to their work.

Egorov walked over to the blond-leather couch at the end of his suite and sat down. He patted the seat next to him, indicating that Korchnoi should sit beside him. “Volodya, are you making time with my secretaries? I bet I know which one you fancy, and let me tell you, they’re both good in bed.”

“Vanya, I’m too old and too tired to sleep with anyone these days. Besides, I wouldn’t want to follow your poxy ass in any way. I feel sorry for those young girls out there.” Korchnoi sat back in the soft sofa and unbuttoned his jacket.

“I’m pleased that you’re commencing with the planning against the American Nash,” said Egorov. “I know you will manage it well. It’s our best chance to discover the traitor.” He got up, went to an ornate cabinet, and retrieved a bottle of Georgian brandy and two glasses. He poured two shots and handed one to Korchnoi.

“This is a little early in the day, Vanya,” said Korchnoi. He reached his glass over to touch the rim of Egorov’s glass. Both men tilted back their heads and returned the glasses to the table. “No more for me,” said Korchnoi as Egorov made to refill their glasses.

“I insist,” said Egorov with mock seriousness. “It’s the only way I can get you to stay and talk with me. I need someone I trust to talk to.”

“We’ve been friends since the Academy,” said Korchnoi. “Is it something about our operation? You’re not having second thoughts about your niece. Because if that’s it, I can tell you I feel absolutely—”

“No, it’s nothing to do with the operation. I have high hopes for it. There’s something else,” said Vanya. “I have something to get off my chest.”

“Are you having troubles, Vanya?” asked Korchnoi. He would not go so far as to ask how Egorov’s campaign to supplant the sitting Director was going. Not even their decades-long relationship would give him the license to be so direct.

“The usual headaches and skirmishes. For each success we balance a failure, the loss of a source, a defection, a recruitment.”

“Vanya, you know how our business works. We will always have failures, but once every five years, ten, we will have a stupendous success. We are due another. It will come.” Korchnoi sipped at the second glass of brandy.

“That’s what I wanted to speak to you about,” said Egorov. “Volodya, I owe you an apology. I have kept something from you when I should not have. I must continue to keep something from you for a little longer, but I want to tell you a little bit.”

“I respect your judgment, Vanya,” said Korchnoi.

“You are a true friend, Volodya,” said Egorov, pouring another shot of brandy for them both. “I have been running an operation on your turf, in the United States, without your knowledge or consent. By rights, your department should have been managing the case. All I can tell you is that the Kremlin ordered that it be managed in this way.”

MARBLE kept his face relaxed. This was it, the Director’s Case, SWAN.

“It’s not the first time we’ve done this. I have done it myself. If it’s operationally expedient, then you have to do it,” said Korchnoi, registering the lie.

“I knew you would consider it professionally. I meant no disrespect to you or your department,” said Egorov.

“None taken,” said Korchnoi. “Is Golov in Washington aware of the case?” There was a narrow window for a delicate probe. Softly, he thought.

“These are details we need not examine,” said Egorov, evading the question. “I can tell you that the case is beginning to produce intelligence of a sensitivity and relevance to Russia not seen since 1949 when Feklisov was buying Fuchs ice cream in exchange for his notes on a working bomb.” How apt, thought Korchnoi. We peaked as the NKVD in the 1950s. Egorov laughed and slapped Korchnoi on the back.

“Congratulations are in order, then,” said Korchnoi. “These are the twenty-year triumphs we need.” He took a sip of his brandy. “Vanya, how can I help?”

“No, no, there’s nothing for you to do,” said Egorov. “I need you to proceed against the American, even as we have to pause in the sensitive case we are running. When can you move ahead?”

“As soon as is required. Your niece is ready,” said Korchnoi easily. “How quickly do we need to move?”

“We have a little time. If you can move now, while our source is recovering from serious eye surgery, the timing will be suitable.”

“Not a problem, we will be ready to travel within a few days’ time.”

“Excellent,” said Egorov.

“We’ll have success,” said Korchnoi. “You can depend on it.”