Free Spy Who Jumped Off the Screen : A Novel (9781101565766) by Thomas Caplan Page A

In the confusion, madcap turmoil and despair that had attended the dissolution of the Soviet Union, Ian, by then trafficking far more profitably in contraband than in shares, currencies, or ideas, had approached his sometime client, sometime purveyor Colonel Zhugov, a man of humble appearance and expensive tastes, with a proposition. The good soldier had only to falsify certain records in certain places, had only to secrete and maintain within his impregnable base three warheads until the day came when either he would have to suddenly “rediscover” them to save his skin or, as Ian thought much more likely, it would become feasible to remove them. In the maelstrom of revolution, Ian believed, millions of accounts of all sorts would be fudged rather than justified. That was a lesson of history, he had told Philip. Recalling this, Philip wished he himself possessed more of his mentor’s patience and trust, more of Ian’s confidence that no matter how far off, a path to the main chance would sooner or later reveal itself.
    Back in the utilitarian office of the installation’s present commanding officer, Andrej said, “It’s a good thing a place can’t think, can’t know what’s become of it, can’t feel regret.”
    â€œYour sentimental nature never ceases to surprise me,” Philip told him. “It’s at odds with your uniform.”
    â€œAll I meant is that one minute you are—what is the word?—the
cynosure
of the world’s attention . . . well, at least that of other armed forces, your possible and probable enemies.”
    â€œâ€˜Cynosure,’” Philip repeated. “What dictionary have you been reading this time?”
    â€œThe
Oxford English,
of course,” Andrej replied. “The word means ‘center of attraction or admiration.’ But from now on, no one will give a damn about this place.”
    â€œYou’re wrong.”
    â€œI wasn’t thinking of tourists.”
    â€œYou’ll be surprised how many will come.”
    â€œNo. They come already. The new ones will just be of a different type, a better class, the sort who would now fly off to Antalya. Anapa is just down the road. It has always had its share of tourists, more than ever since the old Soviet Union collapsed and taking one’s holiday in Sevastopol and the like meant crossing the border into Crimea. I suppose what the builders have in mind is more on the order of Sochi’s resorts.”
    â€œThe artist’s renderings,” Philip said, “would suggest something more bucolic than grand. But you are correct; it’s to be Russian in character.”
    â€œOf necessity,” Andrej replied. “No one else can get there without the most enormous hassle.”
    Philip allowed himself a smile.
    Andrej said, “I am sure it will be lovely, first class in every way, but even so, to be admired for one’s natural beauty is not the same as to be respected for one’s power.”
    â€œNo, it isn’t, nor is that an argument I was making.”
    â€œReal admiration is based in fear,” Andrej declared coolly.
    â€œWhat about attraction?”
    â€œAt the beginning not always, but eventually fear plays its part. No one will fear this place ever again, which is good, but sad, too, in its way. That’s all I was trying to explain, Mr. Frost.”
    â€œWhat remains?” Philip asked.
    â€œTo sign off that the weapons are gone,” Andrej told him. “That’s it.”
    â€œAll four principals must sign and witness that decertification order, if I remember correctly. Once that’s done—”
    â€œThe guards can go home and the soldiers can go elsewhere. There’ll be nothing left to secure. Then just you watch: The construction crews won’t waste a day before they move in. I’m telling you, we’ll hardly recognize this place in a month.”
    â€œWell, it’s the