But Randi had emphasized that when it came to matters of national security, the Russians were still secretive and suspicious. They could drink with you all night, regale you with their most intimate or embarrassing experiences. But if you asked the wrong question about the wrong subject, offense would be taken instantly, the trust broken.
Bioaparat is about as sensitive an issue as there is, Smith thought as he was shown into Kirov’s office. If Kirov takes what I tell him the wrong way, I could be back on the plane before morning.
“Dr. Jon Smith!”
Kirov’s voice boomed across the room as he went over and shook Smith’s hand. He was a tall, barrel-chested man with a full head of silver hair and a face that might have been stamped on a Roman coin.
“It’s good to see you again,” he said. “That last time was… Geneva, five years ago. Correct?”
“Yes, it was, General.”
“Allow me to introduce my adjutant, Lieutenant Lara Telegin.”
“A pleasure, Doctor,” Telegin said, openly appraising Smith and approving what she saw.
“The pleasure is mine,” Smith replied.
He thought that with her dark eyes and raven hair, Lara Telegin was the archetypal temptress out of a nineteenth-century Russian novel, a siren who wooed otherwise rational men to their doom.
Kirov indicated the sideboard. “Can I offer you a refreshment, Dr. Smith?”
“No, thank you.”
“Very well. In that case, as you Americans are so fond of saying: what’s on your mind?”
Smith glanced at Lara Telegin. “No disrespect intended, Lieutenant, but the subject is highly confidential.”
“None taken, Doctor,” she replied tonelessly. “However, I am cleared for COSMIC-level material, the kind that you would take to your president. Besides, I understand that you are not here in any official capacity. Are you?”
“The lieutenant has my full confidence,” Kirov added. “You may speak freely here, Doctor.”
“Fine,” Smith replied. “I will assume that this conversation is not being monitored and that the premises are secure.”
“Take that as a given,” Kirov assured him.
“Bioaparat,” Smith said.
The single word elicited the reactions he’d expected: shock and concern.
“What about Bioaparat, Doctor?” Kirov asked quietly.
“General, I have good reason to believe that there’s a security breach at the facility. If material has not already gone missing, there is a plan under way to steal some of the samples you hold there.”
“Preposterous!” Lara Telegin snapped. “Bioaparat has some of the most advanced security systems in the world. We have heard these kinds of allegations before, Dr. Smith. Honestly, sometimes the West thinks that we are little more than unruly schoolchildren playing with dangerous toys. It’s insulting and—”
“Lara! ”
Kirov’s voice was soft, but the command behind it was unmistakable.
“You must forgive the lieutenant,” he said to Smith. “She resents when the West appears to be patronizing or paternalistic— which is sometimes the case, wouldn’t you agree?”
“General, I’m not here to criticize your security arrangements,” Smith replied. “I wouldn’t have come all this way if I didn’t believe that you have a serious problem— or that you wouldn’t at least hear me out.”
“Then please, go on about our `problem.’ ”
Smith regrouped and took a deep breath. “The most likely target is your store of smallpox.”
Kirov paled. “That’s insane! No one in their right mind would try to steal that!”
” `Right minds’ wouldn’t try to steal anything you keep at Bioaparat. But we have information that the theft is in the works.”
“Who is your source, Doctor?” Telegin demanded. “How reliable is he? Or she?”
“Very reliable, Lieutenant.”
“Would you produce him for us so that we might satisfy ourselves?”
“The source is dead,” Smith replied, trying to keep his voice level.
“Convenient,” she observed.
Smith turned to Kirov. “Please listen to me. I’m not saying that you or the Russian government is involved in this. The theft is being engineered by third parties who, right now, are unknown. But for them to get the sample out of Russia requires the cooperation of people inside Bioaparat.”
“You’re suggesting that either the research or security personnel are involved,” Kirov said.
“It could be anyone who has access to the smallpox samples.” Smith paused. “I’m not passing judgment on your people or your security, General. I know that most of those who work at Bioaparat are as loyal as the people who work in our facilities. But I am telling you that you have a problem— which will become our problem, and probably the world’s— if those samples get out.”
Kirov lit a cigarette.
“You came all this way to tell me this,” he said slowly. “But you also have a plan, don’t you?”
“Shut down Bioaparat,” Smith said. “Right now. Throw a military cordon around it. Nothing goes in— for sure, nothing and no one comes out. In the morning, you inspect the virus stocks yourself. If they’re all there, fine, we’re safe, and you can go after the mole.”
“And you, Dr. Smith? Where would you be during all this?”
“I would ask you to grant me observer status.”
“Don’t you trust us to tell you that all the stocks are intact, Doctor?” Telegin taunted.
“It’s not a matter of trust, Lieutenant. If the situation were reversed, wouldn’t you want to be on-site at our facility?”
“There’s still the issue of your source,” Kirov reminded him. “Understand, Doctor. To do what you ask requires me to go to the president himself. Certainly I can vouch for your credentials. But I need a very good reason to disturb his sleep. If I have the name of your source, if I can check his pedigree— that would validate a great deal of what you have told us.”
Smith turned away. He had known that it might come down to this, trading Yuri Danko’s identity in order to secure Kirov’s cooperation.
“The man has a family,” he said at last. “I need your word that they will not be punished and that if they want to, they can leave.” He held up his hand before Kirov could reply. “That man was not a traitor, General. He was a patriot. He came to me only because he didn’t know how high up the conspiracy went. He gave up everything he had here so that Russia wouldn’t be blamed if anything happened.”
“I can understand that,” Kirov replied. “You have my assurance that the family will not be harmed. Furthermore, the only person I will speak to is President Potrenko— unless you tell me that he is somehow tainted?”
“I can’t believe that to be the case,” Smith replied.
“Then we are in agreement. Lara, call the duty officer at the Kremlin. Tell him that it’s urgent and I’m on my way.”
He turned to Smith. “Now, that name, please.”
__________
“I think you are extending the American a great deal of trust,” Lara Telegin said as she and Kirov walked through the underground garage to his car. “Maybe too much trust. If he is a liar, or worse, a provocateur, you could end up having to answer some embarrassing questions.”
Kirov returned his driver’s salute and stepped aside to allow Lara to get into the car.
“Embarrassing questions,” he said once they were settled. “Is that all?”
She glanced at the partition that separated the driver’s compartment from the rest of the car, making sure that it was all the way up. Such actions were ingrained in her, a result of her military intelligence training.
“You know what I mean,” she said. “For a soldier, you hold extremely progressive views. They have made you your share of enemies.”
“If by ‘progressive’ you mean that I wish Russia to join the twenty-first century, then I plead guilty,” Kirov replied. “And if I have to take the odd risk to ensure that such views prevail against the Neanderthals who would send us back to a bankrupt political system, so be it.”
He gripped the door handle as the car shot out into the wide boulevard that runs by Dzerzhinsky Square.
“Listen to me, Lara,” he continued. “Men like Jon Smith do not recklessly give their word. You can be sure that he is not on some fool’s mission. Individuals high in American government believe the information important enough to send Smith over. Do you see what I mean? What Smith has been allowed to do, told to do— not his words—-legitimizes what the Americans believe they have.”
“A traitor’s word,” she said bitterly.
It had taken her all of twenty minutes to confirm that Yuri Danko was missing and that his whereabouts were unknown. Except the Americans, damn them, know that he’s dead!
“On the face of it, Danko was a traitor,” Kirov agreed. “But you can see his dilemma: what if he had gone to his superior, or even higher up the command chain, and that person had turned out to be part of this `conspiracy’? Danko would still be dead and we would know nothing.”