See Charlie Run

Chapter Nine

An odd – almost embarrassed – silence developed inside the car, each man awaiting the lead from someone else. It was the Russian who spoke. With barely a movement of his head towards Charlie in the rear, Kozlov said: ‘I appreciate your coming.’

‘Hardly likely we wouldn’t,’ said Charlie. The man’s English was very good, as Fredericks had said.

There was a small lift of the shoulders. ‘One can never be sure.’

Charlie was conscious of Kozlov’s eyes upon him, in the rear view mirror, and also of the Russian’s alertness to the traffic following and around him. Charlie said: ‘Always important, being sure.’

Kozlov’s mirrored attention was briefly concentrated and for a moment their gaze met and held. Although the impression was distorted by the lights of passing vehicles and street illuminations, Charlie saw clear, untroubled eyes – maybe blue, as Fredericks had reported – and an open, unlined face. Being a killer didn’t seem a strain.

‘Everything has been explained?’ questioned the Russian.

Charlie saw Kozlov had abandoned the circular route and was driving away from the centre of the city. He said: ‘Yes. Which is why I am surprised.’

‘Surprised?’ Kozlov’s full attention was on Charlie.

‘Why are we all together?’ demanded Charlie. He saw Kozlov’s half smile as Fredericks turned in the seat in front and began ‘What the …?’ but Charlie talked on: ‘I understood your wife was coming separately, to the British?’

‘Now wait a minute …’ tried the American again, realizing what was happening. ‘We arranged …’

‘Nothing beyond this introduction,’ stopped Charlie, maintaining the pressure. ‘From here on, British involvement is a matter between the two of us. America has no part.’

A filter road came up on the right and Kozlov drove off Hongodori Avenue and abruptly took two more quick turns, until the traffic quietened about them. He pulled into the side of the road and said to Fredericks: ‘He’s right. You must leave now.’

‘I think we should talk about it …’ Fredericks tried to persist but Charlie overrode him yet again. He said: ‘OK! Fine! You going to involve me in all the discussions and planning on your side?’

Although it was semi-dark inside the car, the American’s look was obvious and Charlie thought I don’t like your guts either. The hesitation continued for a few moments and then Fredericks felt behind him, releasing the door catch.

‘I’d like you in the front,’ Kozlov said to Charlie.

The effect of the transfer was to have Fredericks holding the door open for Charlie. Fredericks said: ‘Remember it’s your ass.’

As Kozlov drove off, leaving the American at the kerbside, the Russian said: ‘I was worried, briefly.’

‘Worried?’

‘I wasn’t sure you were going to protest: that it might have been some sort of complicated double cross, your pretending to be British but in reality working with them, so that they’d get myself and Irena together, with a trick.’

Kozlov was good, thought Charlie. ‘It still could be,’ he said.

There was another brief smile from the man. Kozlov said: ‘I don’t think so. I don’t believe Fredericks is a good enough actor to feign the dislike he just showed.’

Having proved himself once, Charlie continued: ‘I have nothing to do with the surveillances the Americans are imposing.’

‘I accept that,’ said Kozlov. They’re really quite silly …’ He looked fleetingly at Charlie. ‘Fredericks has already been picked up,’ he said. ‘Their car is about three vehicles behind.’

‘Why do you want to come across?’ said Charlie, abruptly.

The intention was to off-balance the man into a flustered reply. It failed. Kozlov rejoined Hongodori but in the reverse direction, going back towards the heart of the city, and instead of reply, said: ‘You can get Irena out safely?’

‘If I’m satisfied about everything,’ said Charlie, making his own refusal. ‘I want to know a lot more.’

‘Why?’

‘My safety,’ said Charlie, honestly. ‘So why defect?’

‘You are aware of my department?’

‘Yes.’

‘I do not wish to continue any longer,’ said Kozlov, shortly.

Charlie thought back to the first night’s meeting with Art Fredericks and the American’s assessment that Kozlov was frightened; Charlie’s initial impression wasn’t of fear. He said: ‘Why not?’ It was an interrogator’s trick to keep the questions as short as possible, making the other person do all the talking.

Kozlov hesitated, as if unsure how to say it. ‘I have carried out too many operations. Soon I will get caught. I know I couldn’t stand any sort of incarceration, for a long time.’

Charlie, who had endured imprisonment and at one time thought it would send him mad, recognized the fear at once and reversed just as quickly his earlier doubts. He found that explanation absolutely understandable. It also made other things understandable. The reference to Kozlov’s strange calmness, for example: the man was calm – and superbly professional – because his trained nerve had not broken, which was the erroneous inference Charlie had reached. He said: ‘Your people will come after you.’

There was another quick exchange of looks. ‘I know,’ said Kozlov. ‘I’ve pursued others myself. That’s why everything has got to be right, from the beginning.’

Charlie made a note to have Wilson check unexplained or unusual defector deaths beyond Valeri Solomatin, the exiled Ukrainian writer. He said: ‘Are you sure you can trust the Americans?’

‘No,’ said Kozlov. ‘That’s why you are involved.’

‘I did not mean immediately, here,’ expanded Charlie. ‘I meant later when …’

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ interrupted Kozlov. ‘Just as I know you’ve got to make the effort and why I am not annoyed; indeed, it would have been something else that would have worried me if you hadn’t attempted to cheat the Americans. Fredericks has tried to keep Irena and I together, at every meeting I’ve had with him. Says I can’t trust you.’

You can’t, thought Charlie. He saw they were on the park-encircling highway again and decided the car was as secure a place as any, once the checks for surveillance had been carried out. Reminded, and not yet completely abandoning the persuasion, Charlie said: ‘They have monitored every meeting, despite your insisting they shouldn’t.’

‘I told you I knew that,’ said the Russian.

‘So why didn’t you withdraw?’ demanded Charlie, coming to another of his worries.

‘Because it didn’t please me to,’ said Kozlov. ‘Every meeting has been like that tonight, a series of places where they’ve no idea when or how I’ll make the contact. Every time we’ve seen what they are doing and how they are doing it. If there had at any time been a concentration of people, indicating a kidnap attempt, then everything would have been off.’

Charlie digested what the man said, filtering the important points. ‘“We”,’ he quoted. ‘You said every time we’ve seen what they are doing it. Has your wife been involved, in the checks?’

‘Fredericks needs protectors: so do I,’ said Kozlov.

‘Tonight?’

‘Particularly tonight. I wanted her to see what you looked like.’

Charlie stirred, discomfited: yet further surveillance he hadn’t identified. It was happening too bloody often. He forced his mind on, to the more important points. Kozlov clearly expected a snatch: a further reason for not attempting one, here in Japan. Another impression came to him and he said: ‘If you’ve watched, like you say you have, for the four meetings, you must have a pretty good file on the CIA staff here?’

‘Every one,’ confirmed Kozlov. ‘That’s my cover, if there are any questions from my own people.’

So Kozlov’s hadn’t been an empty boast, to Fredericks. Charlie’s mind stayed on the American. The man had been right about one thing: the Russian was professional in everything he seemed to say or do. Charlie glanced outside, realizing they had done one complete circle of the park.

Kozlov saw the look and said: ‘Yes, it’s time to alter the route. I wasn’t becoming careless.’

‘I didn’t think you were,’ said Charlie, honestly.

Kozlov took the car off the circular road, going in the direction of the docks, and said: ‘You haven’t told me officially how your people feel?’

‘Of course we will accept you,’ said Charlie, at once.

‘Irena,’ qualified Kozlov. ‘It’s Irena you’re taking.’

‘I still don’t completely understand how you intend making this work,’ said Charlie.

‘I am valuable, yes?’ demanded Kozlov.

‘Yes,’ agreed Charlie. If there were to be a slip – a mistake to show him things weren’t right – it was most likely to come now.

‘Irena, too?’

‘Yes,’ said Charlie again. Stick to one word responses, let the other man talk, he thought.

‘And you – and the Americans – plan to try to grab us for yourselves once we’re safely out of Japan?’ completed Kozlov. He looked across the car once more, smiling triumphantly.

Charlie realized that a lot – perhaps everything – hinged upon his answer. He hoped to Christ he was going to get it right. He said: ‘Yes, that is exactly what we’ll try to do.’

‘Thank you,’ said Kozlov. ‘I’m glad you didn’t lie: most people would have done. You’re proving yourself to me as much as I am to you, don’t forget.’

There was a jump of satisfaction, but Charlie curbed it at once: another interrogation technique was trying to confuse a questioner with praise. Charlie thought, I’m not forgetting anything, my son. ‘I still don’t understand,’ he persisted.

Kozlov nodded, and Charlie didn’t know whether the gesture was one of approval or something else. ‘So the Americans will guard and protect me, absolutely. And your people will guard and protect Irena absolutely.’

Time to attempt some deflection of his own, Charlie decided. ‘From what?’ he said.

‘Broken promises,’ said Kozlov. ‘At the moment you and the Americans will give any undertaking, just to get us. I want to be confident they will be kept.’

The rehearsed story, Charlie recognized. He said: The only way to guarantee that, then, will be for you and Irena to live permanently apart? Once you’re together, your guarantee goes.’

‘No,’ argued Kozlov. ‘Before we come together permanently we want the full arrangements made, for income and pensions and changes of identity. Houses, too, of course … and going public. Did Fredericks tell you of that insistence?’

‘Yes,’ said Charlie. He’d led the Russian along perfectly, he decided. Time to spring the trap. ‘It won’t work, though, will it?’ he challenged. ‘You gave me the reason yourself, a few moments ago.’

‘What do you mean?’ demanded Kozlov. He looked straight across the car, ignoring the road.

‘You know your people will chase you: one of the conditions is to have your appearance altered, isn’t it?’ pressed Charlie.

‘Yes,’ agreed Kozlov.

‘So from the moment of your first lecture, you’re an easy target,’ said Charlie. ‘Bad flaw there, isn’t there, Yuri?’

‘What lecture?’ said the Russian.

‘That’s going public,’ said Charlie. ‘Where you guys make all the money.’

‘No,’ said Kozlov. ‘There is no flaw, on my part. You’ve made assumptions and they’re wrong. The flaw is yours.’

‘How?’

‘I know completely my value as a defector,’ said Kozlov. ‘It’s in the embarrassing disclosures that I can make, of what I’ve done for the Soviet Union. Before Irena and I are re-united I want a contractual agreement, for my account to be published …’ Kozlov smiled again. ‘The money is to be additional to anything that is agreed to be paid to us by either yourselves or the Americans, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Charlie. Greedy bastard, he thought. The reaction was largely personal irritation, at his misconceptions. Thank Christ no one knew. Trying to press his point, he went on: ‘I wasn’t talking about publishing a book …’ but Kozlov refused him.

‘I was,’ said the Russian. ‘And that’s all I was talking about. I will not undertake any lecture tours; neither will Irena. No personal publicity, either. Any meetings with publishers or writers will be before I undergo any appearance change. The same with Irena.’

It was an explanation, decided Charlie. He felt uncomfortable with it. He said: ‘Separate book contracts, like separate defections?’

‘Listing all the promises that are broken,’ confirmed Kozlov.

Charlie supposed it had some kind of rationale. He said: ‘Your wife is prepared to cooperate fully? She knows what’s involved?’

‘We’ve both considered it very fully.’

‘You’re worried about getting caught,’ said Charlie. ‘What’s her fear?’

‘The same,’ said the other man at once. ‘If I’m seized, she loses me. She is as worried at the possibility of an arrest as I am.’

Time to move on, decided Charlie. ‘You used a word to describe yourself, to Fredericks. He couldn’t remember it,’ he prompted.

‘Cheka,’ responded Kozlov at once.

Kozlov certainly wasn’t an imposter. An imposter would not have known the abbreviation of Vecheka, the name of the first intelligence organizations formed after the Russian Revolution and still how genuine KGB officers referred to themselves, as a term of pride.

‘It must be fascinating in Dzerzhinsky Square, knowing you’re in the very place where your service began,’ persisted Charlie.

Kozlov laughed, openly. ‘You’re much more sceptical than the Americans,’ he said.

The praise ploy again, thought Charlie. He stayed silent.

Spacing his delivery, Kozlov said: ‘Gorokhovaia Street, in Petrograd, was actually the first headquarters. It didn’t move to Moscow until 1918. And even then not to where it is now: for two years it was at Bolshoi Lubyanka …’ He looked briefly at Charlie. ‘Right?’

‘No!’ said Charlie.

‘But that …!’ Kozlov began to protest and then stopped. ‘As a matter of fact it is, historically,’ he said. ‘But I see now. No part of my Chief Directorate is in Dzerzhinsky Square. We’re too big. Our building is on the Moscow ring road.’

‘What connects with Metrostroevskaya Street?’ said Charlie.

Kozlov did not speak for several moments. Then he said: ‘I didn’t know the British service was that well informed.’

As before, Charlie remained silent, refusing to be drawn, and Kozlov said, after a further pause: ‘Turnaninski Pereulok.’

‘And?’ urged Charlie.

‘Yes,’ said Kozlov. ‘I received initial training there: rifle and pistol shooting, unarmed combat … it’s the school.’

‘I want the other place,’ demanded Charlie.

‘Kuchino,’ said the Russian, at once.

‘What’s the specialization?’

‘Poisons. And drugs that dissipate in the body within minutes of being administered …’ He looked again directly at Charlie. ‘You know Moscow too well.’

Sometimes I wished I lived there, with Natalia again, thought Charlie. He said: ‘There was an operation once. It wasn’t successful. I managed to get out.’ That was too much to have revealed at this stage; any stage, in fact. Wanting to cover the mistake, Charlie tried to off-balance again. He said: ‘Who was Harold McFairlane?’

And this time it worked. They were actually approaching the port now, able to see the anchored, lighted vessels. Kozlov took the bridge over the Sumidagawa River but turned away from the full dock complex, going inland: Charlie remembered that a lot of the waterside area was, in fact, islands where it would have been easy to become boxed in and trapped. Kozlov’s throat was moving and there was a sudden, visible shake, in the hands that held the wheel. ‘You have been extremely busy,’ he managed finally.

‘It would seem that you were, too,’ said Charlie.

‘Has it been an American identification?’

‘You know I won’t answer that,’ said Charlie. It was a careless demand anyway: Charlie felt a stir of anticipation.

‘Tell me how close, at least?’

Charlie had no idea what the question meant. Using Kozlov’s demand as the guide, Charlie said: ‘Very close.’

‘I knew it was wrong,’ said Kozlov. More than at any time since the encounter began, Kozlov was reflective, deep inside his own mind.

What the fuck had been wrong! thought Charlie, desperately: this really was like being on the tightrope and watching the strands fray at the far end. He searched for a further way to urge the man on. Drawing upon his own experience, Charlie said: ‘They never listen to the people who have to do the job, do they?’

‘I needed more time, after London. Bonn only gave me a month: it had to be messy,’ blundered Kozlov.

Enough, Charlie decided at once. He said: There’ll be a complete amnesty, of course. For McFairlane …’ He allowed the pause. ‘And the rest.’

‘That’s the most essential guarantee,’ said Kozlov. ‘I’ll want that – so will Irena – before we’ll agree to anything.’

Charlie reckoned he had everything short of a written confession. He repeated: ‘You’ll have every guarantee.’

‘How will you get Irena out?’ demanded Kozlov.

Charlie paused. ‘Safely,’ he said. I hope, he thought.

There was another fleeting smile from Kozlov, the first for a long time. He said: ‘Yes. It is better I don’t know.’

‘But there will have to be the closest coordination,’ warned Charlie. ‘Everything calculated to the minute, to leave at the same time.’

‘I don’t need reminding of the disaster, if the timing is wrong,’ said the Russian. He paused: ‘If anything goes wrong.’

‘I need a photograph to recognize Irena,’ said Charlie.

‘I expected you would,’ said Kozlov. He reached inside his jacket and handed Charlie an envelope.

‘And to meet,’ continued Charlie. An idea was shaping in his mind; the commandos could be useful, but for something different from what the Director imagined. Duck and weave time.

‘Yes,’ said Kozlov. There needs to be a meeting.’

‘How prepared are you?’

‘Immediate. You?’

‘Immediate,’ said Charlie. Which was a slight exaggeration because he had a hell of a lot to do. He said: ‘My planning with Irena can’t be arranged through the Americans, naturally.’

‘Naturally,’ agreed Kozlov.

‘Or through you,’ added Charlie.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ said Kozlov.

‘That’s exactly what I am not being,’ said Charlie. ‘You’re seeking protection by being separated?’

‘From your two services,’ argued Kozlov.

‘From each other,’ insisted Charlie.

Kozlov pulled the car into the side of the road and stopped, and Charlie was glad: it seemed they had been driving for hours. Why did his feet still hurt, when he’d been sitting down for so long?

Kozlov said: ‘How can things be coordinated if Irena and I don’t know when and how it’s going to happen?’

Charlie’s earlier reflection that any sort of grab would be impossible as well as stupid, here in Japan, hardened into a positive determination against the idea as the Russian talked. So now getting the woman safely out came down to a logistical exercise, to thwart the Americans attempting anything so foolish. He said: ‘You’ll know when, of course. You’ll have to. But not how. Irena comes with me, without any details. You go – however you choose – with the Americans.’

‘That’s how I want it to be,’ said Kozlov.

‘It’s still your choice, don’t forget,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s still possible to change your mind, even now; both come with me.’

‘Fredericks made one last try,’ remembered the Russian.

‘So?’

‘We stay separate,’ insisted Kozlov.

‘Then the planning is separate.’

‘All right,’ accepted Kozlov, without a choice.

Charlie looked at the dashboard clock, trying to calculate the amount of time he needed: it was fortunate the difference was so great, between Tokyo and London. A lot of potential problems still remained. He wished he’d thought it out and synchronized the possible flight schedules. Caught by a sudden doubt, Charlie said: ‘She speaks English?’

‘Perfectly,’ assured Kozlov.

‘The bookshop tonight?’ said Charlie. ‘Will just that one occasion be sufficient for her to recognize me?’

‘I hope so.’

‘It must be more than hope!’ insisted Charlie.

‘She’ll recognize you,’ guaranteed Kozlov. ‘Where?’

‘There is a tourist bus which leaves the hotel at noon tomorrow: a city tour. Tell Irena to catch it.’

‘You will be on it?’

‘I will make contact with her,’ qualified Charlie. ‘She must wait.’

‘All the arrangements will be settled then?’

Charlie did not reply at once. Then he said: ‘Everything. And at the same time you must contact Fredericks; don’t forget the necessity to coordinate.’

‘I’ve thought about this for a long time,’ said Kozlov. ‘I’m not going to forget any necessity.’

Detecting what he thought to be doubt, Charlie said: ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get her out safely.’

‘I’ve been very careful, preparing her,’ said Kozlov.

‘I’ll protect her,’ insisted Charlie.

‘It is difficult for me to believe that after so long, everything will be settled by tomorrow,’ said Kozlov, distantly.

More positively than you imagine, thought Charlie. He said: ‘That’s how close it is, now.’

‘It must be over soon,’ said Kozlov. ‘There are some difficulties at the embassy.’

‘What difficulties?’

‘There is a security officer: it is obvious there is some suspicion developing.’

‘By tomorrow everything will be fixed,’ reassured Charlie.

‘We haven’t settled the terms,’ reminded Kozlov.

‘How much?’ asked Charlie. Would the man stick with the American demand or try to hype the price?

‘I’ve asked Washington for $500,000,’ said Kozlov. ‘I’ll want the same for Irena.’

‘Agreed,’ said Charlie, at once.

‘Index-linked, to take account of your inflation,’ continued Kozlov. ‘That’s what your Civil Servants get, isn’t it?’

This was one for the lecture rooms! thought Charlie. He said: ‘I’ll insist it’s index-linked.’

‘And something else,’ went on Kozlov. ‘I want it pegged to a fixed exchange rate against the dollar.’

‘I’ll arrange that also,’ said Charlie, using the immediate response to cover his reaction. That insistence could only mean that Kozlov ultimately intended to settle with his wife in America: another important warning to pass on to London. He said: ‘Is that all?’

‘Of course not,’ said Kozlov, just as quickly. ‘I want private health care for her: your National Health Service suffers delays.’

Definitely one for the training manual, decided Charlie. ‘That’s possible,’ he said. Kozlov had made an omission which confirmed Charlie’s thoughts about their eventually living in America.

As if aware of those thoughts – and the doubt – Kozlov said : ‘A house in Britain, as well … something that we can choose, after the necessary appearance change.’

An afterthought recovery? wondered Charlie. He said: ‘Where do you want the plastic surgery to be carried out?’ A hospital situation provided the best opportunity for a grab.

‘We’ll arrange that later,’ avoided the Russian.

The hospital potential was certainly something he should pass on to London, determined Charlie. He said: ‘We’ll meet every one of those conditions.’

‘And the amnesty?’ reminded the Russian.

‘A positive guarantee,’ assured Charlie. He saw Kozlov had brought the car back into the centre of the city and that they were very close to his hotel. He said: is there anything else?’

Kozlov stopped the car and removed the heavy spectacles, polishing them reflectively. The Russian looked quite different without them, Charlie saw, remembering the first night’s conversation with Fredericks: but he’d used them to drive for more than an hour, so there had to be a genuine need, beyond any minimal disguise. Kozlov said: ‘I can’t think of anything. It just seems there should be more.’

‘That’s always the impression,’ said Charlie. ‘Really, once the decision is made and the agreements reached, there isn’t.’

‘You’ve brought people across before?’

‘Yes,’ said Charlie.

‘Always successfully?’

Charlie hesitated. ‘I’ve always got the subject safely across,’ he said.

Kozlov isolated the qualification at once. ‘But others have been caught? Hurt?’

‘Not often,’ said Charlie.

‘I don’t want it to happen this time,’ said Kozlov.

‘Meet Fredericks tomorrow,’ insisted Charlie.

‘Noon,’ agreed Kozlov.

‘And where’s Irena to meet me?’

Kozlov smiled at the rehearsal. ‘On a tourist bus, from the New Otani. Noon as well.’

There was a need to hurry the Russian on, before he began thinking too deeply about the arrangements. Charlie said: ‘We won’t meet any more, not until after the crossing. From now on, it must be exclusively between Irena and myself. I’ll explain everything to her tomorrow.’

‘I understand,’ said Kozlov.

‘The offer to both of you, to come with me, is still there,’ said Charlie. He knew it was a waste of time but he hoped it would further deflect the man.

‘We’ve been through that,’ said Kozlov, dismissively.

Remembering Kozlov’s own remark, Charlie said in repeated reassurance: ‘By this time tomorrow, everything will be settled.’ Kozlov looked more like a senior clerk than a killer, he thought.

‘At last!’ said Kozlov, the relief obvious.

It really did seem to be resolving itself very easily, thought Charlie: maybe too easily. He opened but held the door and said: ‘Next time we meet we’ll laugh about it.’

‘I hope so,’ said Kozlov. ‘You can walk from here?’

‘I need to think,’ answered Charlie, honestly. And hurry, he thought.

The lobby travel desk was still open and the clerk found in minutes a 6 p.m. flight from Osaka the following day, possible by catching the 3 p.m. Bullet train from Tokyo. Tight but feasible, decided Charlie, booking both. Luck seemed to be with him: he hoped it stayed that way. He guessed London wouldn’t like the idea. Be careful, the Director had insisted: so he was simply obeying orders. It was ironic, Charlie thought, that he was using Hong Kong and wasn’t going to see Harry Lu after all. Always return through the colony, he supposed: be a good way to celebrate, a few drinks with an old mate. London – or rather Harkness – wouldn’t like that either, which was tough shit. Good reason for doing it, in fact. Reward, for a job well done.

When he called Fredericks, the American said: ‘Quite the operator!’

‘You couldn’t expect to get away with it!’ said Charlie, impatiently.

‘Well?’

‘We need to meet,’ said Charlie.

‘Tomorrow,’ said Fredericks.

‘Tonight,’ insisted Charlie.

Only at the end of setting out his impressions of the meeting with Kozlov did Charlie remember the photograph of the woman. He took it from his pocket, frowning down.

Irena Kozlov looked just like an Alsatian wearing lipstick, he decided.

Olga Balan stretched up, easing the ache in her shoulders after the intense concentration, happy at last with the Kozlov report. She read it for the final time, collected all the sound and television tapes of the interviews and sealed them altogether in the package for Moscow. The supposition was overwhelming, she decided: absolutely overwhelming. She guessed Boris Filiatov would soon be filing his own back-covering report; stupid, sweaty little man.