The Defector

CIA Headquarters, the Valhalla of America’s sprawling and often dysfunctional intelligence establishment. The antithesis of Graham Seymour in appearance, Carter had tousled thinning hair and a prominent mustache that had gone out of fashion with disco music, Crock-Pots, and the nuclear freeze. Dressed as he was now, in flannel trousers and a burgundy cardigan, he had the air of a professor from a minor university, the sort who championed noble causes and was a constant thorn in the side of his dean. He peered at Gabriel over his reading glasses, as if mildly surprised to see him, and offered his hand. It was cool as marble and dry to the touch.
    Gabriel had contacted Carter the previous day before leaving London via a secure cable sent from the CIA station at the American Embassy. The cable had given Carter only the broadest outlines of the affair. Now Gabriel filled in the details. At the conclusion of the briefing, Carter picked through the physical evidence, beginning with the letter Grigori had left in Oxford and ending with the Heathrow Airport surveillance photos of the man known only as Anatoly.
    “In all honesty,” said Carter, “we never put much stock in the story that Grigori had a change of heart and redefected to the motherland. As you might recall, I actually had a chance to spend some time with him the night you came out of Russia.”
    Gabriel did recall, of course. In a logistical feat only the Agency could manage, Carter had put a squadron of Gulfstream executive jets on the ground in Kiev, just a few hours after the car bearing Gabriel and his trio of Russian defectors had crossed the Ukrainian border. Gabriel had returned to Israel, while Grigori and Olga had flown into exile in Britain. Carter had personally brought Elena Kharkov to the United States, where she was granted defector status. Her current circumstances were so closely held that even Gabriel had no idea where the CIA had hidden her.
    “We sent a team to debrief Grigori within twenty-four hours of his arrival in England,” Carter resumed. “No one who took part ever voiced any skepticism about Grigori’s authenticity. After his disappearance, I ordered a review of the tapes and transcripts to see if we’d missed something.”
    “And?”
    “Grigori was as good as gold. Needless to say, we were rather surprised when the British thought otherwise. As far as Langley is concerned, it seemed a rather transparent attempt to foist some of the blame for his disappearance onto you. They have no one to blame but themselves. He should have never been allowed to get mixed up with opposition types floating around London. It was only a matter of time before Ivan got to him.”
    “Is Ivan still a target of NSA surveillance?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Did you know he just sold several thousand antitank missiles and RPGs to Hezbollah?”
    “We’ve heard rumors to that effect. But for the moment, keeping track of Ivan’s business activities is low on our list of priorities. Our main concern is keeping his former wife and children safe from harm.”
    “Has he ever made any formal effort to reclaim them?”
    “A couple of months ago, the Russian ambassador raised the issue during a routine meeting with the secretary of state. The secretary acted somewhat surprised and said she would look into the matter. She’s a good poker player, the secretary. Would have made an excellent case officer. A week later, she told the ambassador that Elena Kharkov and her children were not currently residing in the United States, nor had they ever resided here at any time in the past. The ambassador thanked the secretary profusely for her efforts and never raised the matter again.”
    “Ivan must know they’re here, Adrian.”
    “Of course he knows. But there’s nothing he and his friends in the Kremlin can do about it. That operation you ran in Saint-Tropez last summer was a thing of beauty. You plucked the children from Ivan cleanly and with a veneer of legality. Furthermore, when Ivan divorced Elena in a Russian court, he effectively gave up all legal claim to them. The only way he can get them now is to steal them. And that’s not going to happen. We take better care of our defectors than the British do.”
    “She’s somewhere safe, I hope.”
    “Very safe. But will you allow me to give you a piece of advice, as one friend to another? Take Grigori’s words to heart. Forget about that promise you made that night in Russia. Besides, I suspect Ivan