Moscow Rules

little like Russia itself. I went from having almost nothing to having almost everything. We Russians lurch from one extreme to the other. We never seem to get it just right.”
     
     
    She turned and looked at him.
     
     
    “May I speak honestly without hurting your feelings?”
     
     
    “If you must.”
     
     
    “You look quite ridiculous in that disguise. I like you much better with your short hair. And those glasses . . .” She shook her head. “They’re atrocious. You shouldn’t wear tinted lenses. They hide the color of your eyes.”
     
     
    “I’m afraid that’s the point, Elena.”
     
     
    She brushed a strand of hair from her face and asked where she was to be hidden after the defection. Her tone was casual, as though she were making polite conversation with a complete stranger. Gabriel answered in the same manner.
     
     
    “On Sunday night, instead of boarding your flight back to Geneva and Nice, you’re going to board a plane to Tel Aviv. Your stay in Israel will be brief, a day or two at most.”
     
     
    “And then?”
     
     
    “The Americans have assumed responsibility for your resettlement. It’s a bigger country with far more places to hide than Israel. The man who is in charge of the case is a friend of mine. I’d trust him with my life, Elena, and I know he’ll take very good care of you and the children. But I’m afraid it won’t be anything like the lifestyle to which you’ve become accustomed.”
     
     
    “Thank God for that.”
     
     
    “You might think that now, but it’s going to be a rude awakening. You should anticipate that Ivan will file for divorce in a Russian court. Because you won’t be able to appear to contest the case, he’ll be able to divorce you in absentia and leave you and the children penniless.” He paused. “Unless we can lay our hands on a bit of his money in the next two days.”
     
     
    “I don’t want any of Ivan’s money. It’s blood money.”
     
     
    “Then do it for your children, Elena.”
     
     
    She looked at the sketch he had given her—the two children on a beach. “I have access to joint accounts in London and Moscow,” she said softly. “But if I make any large withdrawals, Ivan will know about it.”
     
     
    “He didn’t salt away any funds in Switzerland for a rainy day?”
     
     
    “There’s a safe-deposit box in Zurich where he usually keeps a couple of million in cash. You would have to empty it out for me before Ivan has a chance to put a freeze on it.”
     
     
    “Do you know the number and password?”
     
     
    She nodded her head.
     
     
    “Give them to me, Elena—for the children.”
     
     
    She recited them slowly, then looked at him curiously.
     
     
    “Don’t you want to write them down?”
     
     
    “It’s not necessary.”
     
     
    “You have a spy’s memory, just like Ivan.”
     
     
    She picked at her food without appetite.
     
     
    “I must say, your performance today was quite extraordinary. You should have seen Ivan’s face when he was informed his plane couldn’t take off.” She looked at him. “I assume you have the next act well choreographed, too?”
     
     
    “We do, but all the choreography in the world isn’t worth a damn if the performer can’t pull it off.” A pause. “Last chance to bow out, Elena. And no hard feelings if you do.”
     
     
    “I’m going to finish what I started,” she said. “For Aleksandr Lubin. For Boris Ostrovsky. And for Olga.”
     
     
    Gabriel signaled the flight attendant and asked her to remove their food. Then he placed his briefcase on the tray table and opened the combination locks. He removed four items: a small plastic spray bottle, a device that looked like an ordinary MP3 player, a second rectangular device with a short USB connector cord, and a boarding pass for El Al Flight 1612, departing Moscow for Tel Aviv at 6:15 P.M. on Sunday.
     
     
    “As you can probably tell by now, Elena, timing is everything. We’ve put together a schedule for your final hours in Moscow and it is important you adhere to it rigorously. Pay close attention to everything I tell you. We have a lot of ground to cover and very little time.”
     
     
    The flight touched down at Sheremetyevo punctually at 8:05 P.M. Elena left the plane first and walked a few paces ahead through the terminal, with her handbag over her left shoulder and her overnight bag rolling along the cracked floor at her side. Arriving at passport control, Gabriel joined