Unintended Consequences

counsel to the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence. He met his future wife when she was testifying before the committee about CIA funding. She was an analyst at the time.”
    “But how was he connected to this thing with the Russians?”
    “He was on vacation. He took delivery in Finland of a new yacht for a friend of his and was delivering it to England for him. While still in the Baltic he ran into some weather and lost his mast. He put in to the nearest port and got himself arrested, because it was a Soviet naval base, the one from which the invasion was to be launched. He talked his way out of it, but he called Kate and told her about his experience. She was instrumental in exposing a CIA mole who was giving the Soviets information. That catapulted her into the top ranks at the Agency, and she eventually rose to director.”
    “Funny, I’ve never heard about that.”
    “It was kept quiet at the time, except for the part about the mole.”
    “And how is this fellow Majorov connected to all that?”
    “His father was the commander of the Soviet naval base. Will Lee actually met him, I think.”
    “And now his son is living in Paris, taking shots at your agent.”
    “Former agent,” Rick said. “I told you, Amanda was drummed out.”
    “Just between you and me,” Stone said, “she wasn’t. Lance told me she is still active as a sleeper.”
    Rick regarded him with amazement. “He told you that?”
    “He did.”
    “He never told me that.”
    “Perhaps you didn’t have a need to know.”
    “Let me know if Majorov leaves the room,” Rick said.
    “All right.”
    They finished a superb lunch, then Marcel came around to their side of the table. “I must do a little business here,” he said. “Keep the car for as long as you like, I have other transportation.” He wandered off with a small group of people.
    Stone looked up and saw Majorov making his way out of the dining room. “Heads-up,” he said to Rick. “There goes your man.”
    “Let’s go,” Rick said. They got up and followed Majorov, at some remove, out of the dining room and across the main exhibition floor. He went out the same back door by which they had entered. As they got to the door the Russian was getting into the driver’s seat of a large silver BMW sedan. They got into the Maybach.
    Rick leaned forward. “What’s your name, driver?”
    “Fritz,” the man replied.
    “Well, Fritz, you see the silver BMW going out the gate?”
    “Yes, I see it.”
    “Don’t lose it, but don’t get too close, either.”
    The man put the Maybach in gear and drove out the gate, in time to see the BMW turn a corner.
    “You’ve always wanted to do this, haven’t you?” Rick asked Stone.
    “Not really,” Stone replied.

25
    T hey followed the BMW back toward the center of Paris, to Montmartre, past the old church and down a side street.
    “Fritz?” Rick said.
    “Yes, sir?”
    “Have you done this before?”
    “Only in my dreams, sir.”
    Rick laughed aloud. “Everybody wants to do it. Hang on!”
    The BMW suddenly pulled to the curb in front of a row of shops and stopped.
    “Keep right on going, Fritz,” Rick said. “Take your next right, and circle back. Drive slowly past the BMW.”
    Fritz followed his instructions.
    They came back into the street, and the BMW was gone.
    “See him anywhere?” Stone asked.
    They drove slowly past the shops, and as they did, the BMW pulled out of an alley behind them.
    “Uh-oh,” Rick said. “Did you see the gallery?”
    “What gallery?” Stone asked.
    “The Ulyanov Gallery, just behind us. There was a sign in the window announcing an exhibition of new Russian paintings, starting today.”
    “Maybe Majorov is going to the opening party,” Stone suggested.
    “Then why is he following us?” Rick asked. “No, he’s curious as to who we are.”
    “He can’t see us through these darkened windows,” Stone said.
    “Good,” Rick said, “because I don’t want him to know who we are. Fritz, let’s go back to M’sieur duBois’s offices.”
    “You want him to think we’re duBois?” Stone asked.
    “He’ll run our number plate anyway,” Rick replied, “and find that the car is registered to one of duBois’s businesses.”
    Fritz drove dutifully to duBois’s building.
    “Through the gates and into the courtyard, please,” Rick said. “Then pull over to the left, out of sight of the street.”
    Fritz did so.
    “Now, Fritz, please go inside to reception and look out