Aces Abroad

II.

"The chairman will see you now."

To Polyakov's surprise the receptionist was a young woman of striking beauty, a blonde straight out of an American movie. Gone was Seregin, Andropov's old gatekeeper, a man with the physical appearance of a hatchet-appropriately enough-and a personality to match. Seregin was perfectly capable of letting a Politburo member cool his heels for eternity in this outer office, or if necessary, physically ejecting anyone foolish enough to make an unexpected call on the chairman of the Committee for State Security, the chief of the KGB.

Polyakov imagined that this lissome woman was potentially just as lethal as Seregin; nevertheless, the whole idea struck him as ludricrous. An attempt to put a smile on the face of the tiger. Meet your new, caring. Kremlin. Today's friendly KGB!

Seregin was gone. But then, so was Andropov. And Polyakov himself was no longer welcome on the top floor… not without the chairman's invitation.

The chairman rose from his desk to kiss him, interrupting Polyakov's salute. "Georgy Vladimirovich, how nice to see you." He was directed to a couch-another new addition, some kind of conversational nook in the formerly Spartan office. "You're not often seen in these parts." By your choice, Polyakov wanted to say..

"My duties have kept me away."

"Of course. The rigors of field work." The chairman, who like most KGB chiefs since Stalin's day was essentially a Party political appointee, had served the KGB as a snitch-a stukachnot an operative or analyst. In this he was the perfect leader of an organization consisting of a million stukachi. "Tell me about your visit to the Aquarium."

Quickly to business. Another sign of the Gorbachev style. Polyakov was thorough to the point of tedium in his replay of the interrogation, with one significant omission. He counted on the chairman's famous impatience and wasn't disappointed.

"These operational details are all well and good, Georgy Vladimirovich, but wasted on poor bureaucrats, hmm?" A self-deprecating smile. "Did the GRU give you full and complete cooperation, as directed by the General Secretary"

"Yes… alas," Polyakov said, earning the chairman's equally famous laugh.

"Do you have enough information to salvage our European operations?"

"Yes."

"How will you proceed? I understand that the German networks are being rolled up. Every day Aeroflot brings our agents back to us.'

"Those not held for trial in the West, yes," Polyakov said. "Berlin is a wasteland for us now. Most of Germany is barren and will be for years."

"Carthage."

"But we have other assets. Deep-cover assets that have not been utilized in years. I propose to activate one known as the Dancer."

The chairman drew out pen and made a note to have the Dancer file brought up from the registry. He nodded. "How much time will this… recovery take, in your honest estimation?"

"At least two years."

The chairman's gaze drifted off. "Which brings me to a question of my own," Polyakov persisted. "My retirement."

"Yes, your retirement." The chairman sighed. "I think the only course is to bring Yurchenko in on this as soon as possible, since he'll be the one who has to finish the job."

"Unless I postpone my retirement." Polyakov had said the unspeakable. He watched the chairman make an unaccustomed search for an unprogrammed response. "Well. That would be a problem, wouldn't it? All the papers have been signed. Yurchenko's promotion is already approved. You will be promoted to general and will receive your third Hero's medal. We're prepared to announce it at the plenum next month." The chairman leaned forward. "Is it money, Georgy Vladimirovich? I shouldn't mention this, but there is often a pension bonus for extremely… valuable service."

It wasn't going to work. The chairman might be a political hack, but he was not without his skills. He had been ordered to clean house at the KGB and clean house he would. Right now he feared Gorbachev more than he feared an old spy.

Polyakov sighed. "I only want to finish my job. If that is not the

… desire of the Party, I will retire as agreed."

The chairman had been anticipating a fight and was relieved to have won so quickly. "I understand the difficulty of your situation, Georgy Vladimirovich. We all know your tenacity. We don't have enough like you. But Yurchenko is capable. After all… you trained him."

"I'll brief him."

"I tell you what," the chairman said. "Your retirement doesn't take effect until the end of August."

"My sixty-third birthday."

"I see no reason why we should deprive ourselves of your talents until that date." The chairman was writing notes to himself again. "This is highly unusual, as you well know, but why don't you go with Yurchenko? Hmm? Where is this Dancer?"

"France, at the moment, or England."

The chairman was pleased. "I'm sure we can think of worse places for a business trip." He wrote another note with his pen. " I will authorize you to accompany Yurchenko… to assist in the transition. Charming bureaucratic phrase."

"Thank you."

"Nonsense, you've earned it." The chairman got up and went to the sideboard. That, at least, had not changed. He drew out a bottle of vodka that was almost empty, pouring two glasses full, which finished it. "A forbidden toast-the end of an era!" They drank.

The chairman sat down again. "What will happen to Molniya? No matter how badly he bungled Berlin, he's too valuable to waste in that horrible furnace of theirs."

"He's teaching tactics now, here in Moscow In time, if he's good, they may let him return to fieldwork."

The chairman shuddered visibly. "What a mess." His tight smile -showed a pair of steel teeth. "Having a wild card working for you! I wonder, would one ever sleep?"

Polyakov drained his glass. "I wouldn't."