Siro, David Ignatius [ereader for android TXT] 📗

“Well now,” said Stone genially, finally getting around to the point. “You’re probably wondering what this meeting is all about.”

“Actually, yes. I was wondering that.”

“If it’s any relief, I don’t intend to give you a lecture about how hard it is for a woman to be a case officer.”

“Good,” said Anna. “I’ve already had that lecture. Several times.”

“And you shouldn’t take any of what I’m going to tell you too seriously, because you won’t be working for me. You’ll be working for the chief of the London station, and through him for the chief of the European Division. Nonetheless, I did want to meet you myself before you headed out because, from your résumé, you appear to be a promising young officer.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. “What are you chief of, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Good question,” he said. Anna waited for a response, but it didn’t come. Apparently it was not such a good question, or at least not one that Stone intended to answer. He sat in his chair, holding his champagne glass up to the light and watching the bubbles.

“This is not a very happy time for the United States,” Stone continued after a few moments. “And it is an especially unhappy time for the organization you are joining. We’re not supposed to say that. But it should be obvious to any intelligent person.”

“I don’t have much to compare it with,” said Anna.

“Of course you don’t. But take my word for it. How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine. Next month.”

Stone sighed and shook his head. “As you’ll soon discover,” he said, “it’s not much fun to operate in this sort of environment. It’s much easier when you’re on top of the hill and everybody wants to be your friend. When you’re king of the hill, you don’t have to recruit agents. They recruit themselves. They think that helping the United States will make them rich or powerful. Nowadays, people must worry that it will get them killed.”

“Come now,” said Anna. “Things can’t be that bad.”

Stone gave a thin smile. He looked so tired and gloomy that Anna felt she should try to cheer him up. He reminded her slightly of a philosophy professor she’d had at Harvard, a man who had concluded late in life that the world was such a mess that intellectual work was pointless. Anna had tried to cheer him up too, to encourage him to return to teaching and writing, until she realized one day that the despairing old professor was actually trying to seduce her. That made his angst somewhat less compelling, and she snubbed him. Stone couldn’t be that demoralized.

“Personally, I can’t wait to get started,” she said cheerily.

“Glad to hear it,” said Stone. “Glad to hear it. And you’ll be going to London as a NOC, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And your cover will be as a banker with a firm called Halcyon Ltd.?”

“Yes.” Anna wondered how Stone knew these details. They were supposed to be closely held secrets.

“And who are you supposed to handle, exactly?”

Anna thought a moment. “I’m not sure. People passing through London, Iranians, Arabs, Turks. They weren’t very specific.”

“Quite a handful.”

“I guess so.”

“What about Uzbeks?”

“Excuse me?”

“What about people from the Soviet republic of Uzbekistan? Did anyone suggest that you should try to make contact with them?”

“No.”

“Or Azeris. Or Armenians. Or Abkhazians. Or Kazakhs? With your language skills, you would be an ideal person to work with such people. Anybody mention them?”

“Nope.”

Stone nodded. “Of course they didn’t. Why should they? People from the Caucasus and Central Asia don’t travel much to London. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Which is a shame.”

“Why?”

“Because, my dear, they are the key to the puzzle.”

Anna studied him, trying to figure out what he was talking about. what key? What puzzle?

“We have a problem with the Soviet Union, as you have undoubtedly noticed from reading the newspapers,” continued Stone. “But what, exactly, is this problem?”

Anna shrugged her shoulders.

“The problem is that the Russians appear to be strong and confident, while the United States appears to be confused and weak. And that seems to be especially true in the great disaster area that stretches from Turkey to Afghanistan, which the newsmagazines lately have taken to calling ‘the crescent of crisis.’ That is what most people perceive, is it not?”

“Yes,” said Anna. Why, she wondered to herself, is he telling me all this?

“But the reality is quite different, if only we had enough sense to see it.” Stone raised his index finger, as if he had just come to this conclusion. “It is the Soviet Union that is weak in that part of the world. Fatally weak. And it is the United States that has the leverage, if we would only use it. For the Soviet Union is, to put it bluntly, a vast house of cards waiting for a strong breeze.”

“It looks pretty solid to me.”

“Of course it does—at the center. It’s all too solid there. But at the edges, it’s falling apart. It’s a mess. All anyone has to do is blow hard and the entire country is going to fall over. Just ask an Armenian, or a Georgian, or an Uzbek. He’ll tell you.”

Anna eyed him curiously. She thought she was beginning to get the point. “How am I going to meet any Uzbeks?” she said. “As you were saying, they don’t pass through London much.”

“Keep your eyes open.”

“Is that an assignment?”

“Of course not,” said Stone, drawing back in his chair. “I have no authority to give you assignments. Moreover, it would be against official policy.”

“What policy?”

“The United States has a strict policy against encouraging secessionist feelings in any of the Soviet republics.”

“Why? If I’m allowed to ask.”

“Because it is thought to be too dangerous. It looks too much like going for the jugular. I rather like that aspect, myself. But our friends at the State Department seem to think it could lead to nuclear war.”

“Oh.”

“So it would be wrong of me to encourage you to do any such thing.”

“Um-hum,” said Anna. She couldn’t help