Agent 6

Manhattan Hotel Grand Metropolitan 44th Street
Same Day

Raisa was still holding the receiver, demanding Mikael Ivanov reconnect her with Leo. Mikael shook his head, as though he personally controlled the telephone exchange. His smug sense of authority was utterly infuriating. Sounding reasonable and measured, he said:

– The dress rehearsal starts in less than an hour. The students have finished lunch. We need to leave. You’re behaving irrationally. You’re here to ensure the smooth running of this concert. That is your priority.

Raisa was taken aback by the intensity of her hatred for this man.

– One minute more isn’t going to make a difference.

– If you didn’t think you could manage your duties without your husband perhaps he should have led this trip rather than you. It’s disappointing to see you so incapable.

It was a shrewd attack; any further request to speak to Leo was a humiliating confirmation of the allegation that she was weak. She would not be allowed a second conversation. She would not beg.

Raisa hung up the phone, remaining by the cabinet, running Leo’s advice through her mind.

– Where’s my daughter?

– As I said, the students finished lunch. They’re in their rooms. They’re waiting to assemble on the coach. We’re all waiting for you.

Raisa noted that he didn’t ask which daughter: he knew she was referring to Elena. How did he know? He’d listened to the call, or perhaps he was also involved, but involved with what?

Without another word, she strode out of the room, past Ivanov, fully aware that he was going to follow her.

– Raisa Demidova!

She reached the end of the corridor, knocking on the door to Elena’s room. Ivanov was running to catch up:

– What are you going to do?

Elena opened the door. As Raisa entered, she turned to Ivanov.

– Get the other students in the coach. I’ll be down in a few minutes. My family is none of your concern.

She didn’t wait for a reply, shutting the door in his face.

Zoya and Elena stood side by side, in the clothes they would be wearing tonight – ready to leave for the dress rehearsal. Raisa said:

– Elena, I want you to stay here. If tonight goes well, you can attend tomorrow’s concert.

After a fractional pause, stunned by the news, Elena sprang forward, flush with indignation.

– What are you talking about? How can I not attend the performance?

– I’ve made a decision. There’s nothing more to be said.

Elena’s face reddened. Her eyes glistened with tears.

– I’ve flown from Moscow only to be told I must stay in my room!

– Something is wrong!

– What is wrong?

– I don’t know. But I’ve spoken to Leo and he agrees As soon as she mentioned Leo’s name Raisa regretted it. Elena jumped on the idea that Leo was behind this.

– Leo! He’s been against this trip from the beginning. What has he been saying? He’s paranoid. He sees intrigue and deceit and treachery everywhere. He’s sick. Truly, he’s sick to his soul. Nothing bad is going on. I promise you. There is no reason to keep me in my room just because a bitter former agent has forgotten that not everything in the world is twisted and sinister.

Elena referred to Leo as a former secret agent, rather than her father. Raisa had undermined Leo’s relationship with the girls. Elena began to cry.

– Am I the only student to be locked in their room? For no reason? While all the other students perform? I’m going to sit here? My real mother would never have behaved like this. A real mother would understand the humiliation…

Zoya reached out and touched her sister’s arm, in a reversal of their usual roles, trying to rein her anger back.

– Elena…

Elena pulled her arm free, staring at Raisa.

– No, I will not be told how I should feel. I will not be told how to behave. I’m not a child any more! You can stop me from going to the concert. You have that power. If you do, I will never forgive Leo.

Same Day

Yates struggled to understand the translator’s thick Russian accent. She’d lived in this country for over forty years, was employed in an Ivy League university as a professor of linguistics, yet she couldn’t even speak English properly. He asked:

– The mother gave in?

– The daughter is coming to the concert. She’s been allowed to attend.

– Did the girl mention any plans? Say anything else?

– She denied there was anything sinister about to happen.

– You’re sure?

– I am sure.

– No mention of any plot?

– I’ve been speaking Russian all my life.

This translator didn’t like him and wasn’t afraid to show it, peering over her thick-framed glasses as if Yates were beneath contempt. She’d been the only linguist who’d objected to helping with this operation, stating that she was an academic not a spy.

– Speaking Russian all your life? That is a long time: maybe you still have feelings for the country? Sentimental feelings that might make you omit an important detail or two?

The woman’s face tightened with anger.

– Have someone check the transcript, someone you trust, if there is such a person.

Yates sunk his hands into his pockets.

– How about you just answer my questions? Right now I’m not interested in you. I’m interested in what that family was talking about. Was there any mention of Jesse Austin?

– No.

Yates addressed the entire room, clutching the rushed, handwritten transcript of Raisa’s phone conversation with Leo.

– The Russian woman is a better detective than all of you. She knows something is going on. She can feel it in her gut. I agree with her. I need you to do your jobs!

He picked up the file they had on Raisa Demidova and her daughters. It contained nothing more than the official information provided by the Soviet authorities, statistics such weight and academic grades. He threw it down again.

An officer called out:

– The students are boarding the coach. Do you want to go with them?

Yates considered.

– Have our agents keep contact with that family. I want them watched every step of the way from the coach to the United Nations building. Don’t let them out of your sight, even for a moment.

As the agents busied themselves with the movement of the students to the coach, Yates paced the line of translators’ tables, frustrated that he couldn’t even approximate an answer to the question of why the Soviets were so keen to arrange for Jesse Austin to attend the concert. They’d sent this girl: they’d risked her slipping out of the hotel. Jesse Austin’s presence wouldn’t even make the news. He called out:

– I want to know if we’ve had any activity in Harlem recently.

A field agent approached.

– The team watching a suspected Soviet operative reported that he was in Harlem this morning. Normally he’s pretty good at giving us the slip on the subway. Not today, they followed him.

– Where did he go?

– West 145th Street.

– Who was he?

– His name is Osip Feinstein.