The Kremlin's Candidate: A Novel

“Yeah, we’ve all come a long way, you most of all,” said Gable. “Now tell me what’s going on.” Dominika sat back and talked fast. She told him about Gorelikov’s instructions and the meeting with SUSAN. She showed him the EKHO phones—they would not be hot-wired if they were meant for an illegal—thinking he’d want techs to take them apart to inspect, but Gable shook his head. “They could be trapped to reveal tampering, and you’re the only one who holds them.” Dominika described the meeting site on Staten Island.

“You know how to take the ferry?”

“I studied the entire route. I know how to get there,” said Dominika.

“This illegal, what’s she look like?” said Gable.

Dominika shrugged. “It was a little black-and-white photo,” said Dominika. “Blond, reading glasses, steely blue eyes. Short hair.”

Gable rubbed his face. “Christ,” he said. “A top illegal in the city and we can’t ID her. How many more of them out there, I wonder.”

“There is no way of knowing,” said Dominika. “Line S, the external illegals department, and Line N, the officers who handle them in-country, are compartmented from the rest of the Service, even from me in KR.” The food came to the table and Gable spooned a mound of glistening spinach onto Dominika’s plate. She tried a forkful. It was a savory combination of sautéed spinach and curried ground beef with a hint of rice. Delicious. And Nate used to eat it. The question popped out before she could stop herself.

“Bratok, where is Nate? What is he doing?” said Dominika.

Gable put down his fork. “Benford sent him to take care of another op. In Asia. Right now, that boy is busier than a cat covering crap on a marble floor. He’ll be back in a couple of weeks. You steamed at him again?” Gable just asked questions, no matter how sensitive.

Dominika smiled. “In Russia we say nalomat drov, to mangle the firewood. You say to mess something up. That’s our love affair. Messed up.”

Gable patted her hand. “I’m not supposed to say this to you,” said Gable, “but you should either cut it off with him once and for all, or defect and concentrate on your lives together. Maybe recruit your replacement before you go. Loving each other and spying at the same time is gonna get someone hurt.” Dominika was silent; she knew Gable understood her. “Don’t tell anyone I told you that,” he said, smiling. Then he got back to business.

“You gotta fly straight with that Spetsnaz guy hanging around. Let him see you nice and relaxed.” Dominika nodded. “Make the meeting with that gal on Staten Island alone, but otherwise keep him close. He’s going to file a trip report and you want them all to think you were never out of pocket. We’ll meet once more after your meet with the illegal. And try to get some ID on her without being too obvious.” Gable waved to a young man at a table across the room and Lucius Westfall walked over.

“This droopy bit of wet wool is Westfall,” said Gable. “He’s backup if you see him on the street, here to help you and me if we need it.” Dominika smiled and shook his hand, noting a blue halo quivering with nervousness. She felt sorry for him, especially since she knew what a bear Gable could be.

“Glad to meet you, Westfall,” said Dominika. He nodded wordlessly, obviously overcome at meeting the famous DIVA. He’d had no idea she was so beautiful. He turned and left the restaurant after an awkward final bow.

“Bratok, you do not torment him too much, do you? He’s so young, like you were once.” Gable grunted.

“I was born old. But tell me more about the Spetsnaz sergeant.”

“This man Blokhin is worse than either Zyuganov or Matorin. He is intelligent, but behind his eyes are, how do you say, hot rocks like when you grill shashlik.”

“Like hot coals? Well, don’t arm wrestle him,” said Gable.

“I am forcing myself to go with him to an event at the Hilton on Sixth Avenue in two days. A Russian journalist, Daria Repina, is speaking at a Free Russia fund-raising event. She is a loud critic of everything Putin does. She is without fear, but now that she is in America raising money it will become dangerous for her.”

“Is it smart for you to be going to something like that? Why would a Spetsnaz snake eater want to go to hear some dissident?” said Gable.

“Attending with him will be a good appearance—I mean bona fides—for me,” said Dominika. “It is a public event. I will stay in the background and leave early. As for Blokhin, I think he is curious. Like a dog sniffing a lamppost. It will be his last night in New York. We both return separately to Moscow the next day.”

“And when you get back, you find out the name of MAGNIT, fast as you can, right?”

“Someone will make a slip. I will hear the name eventually,” said Dominika.