Shift: A Novel

Washington, DC

November 15, 1963

When they finished, Melchior said, “That proves the old axiom that the boss should be able to outperform any of her employees.” In case Song had missed the point, he added, “Wow.”

Song lit a cigarette, took a drag, passed it to Melchior.

“As I was saying earlier,” she said in a voice that gave no hint of the ripe smell that hung in the room, “you need an organization.”

Melchior sucked on the cigarette, held the smoke in his lungs just to the point of discomfort, then exhaled.

“This conversation requires clothes.”

“So,” Song recapped after Melchior had told her everything that had happened since he’d returned to the States. “Orpheus in Frisco. Naz in DC. And something”—she looked at Melchior significantly—“in Cuba. You entrusted them all to freelancers and look what happened. You’ve lost at least two assets, and, depending on what Comrade Ivelitsch meant by his note, possibly all three.”

“He wouldn’t have left that note if he’d found it.”

Song rolled her eyes.

“I know it’s a bomb, Melchior.”

“What’s a bomb?”

“I told you. Drew Everton, second and fourth Thursday of every month.”

“He doesn’t believe me when I tell him there’s a nuke in Cuba, but he tells—”

“Focus, Melchior. We’re talking about Ivelitsch. He wouldn’t have left that note if he was acting with KGB approval.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying he’s testing the waters, just like you. Looking for an excuse to go freelance.”

“And what’s that mean to me?”

“He’s going to call. My guess is he’ll make a perfunctory effort to turn you. I want you to counteroffer. The two of you pretend to work for KGB to take advantage of their resources, but in actuality you form a new, independent organization.”

“With you as a partner, of course.”

“Let’s face it, Melchior. If someone didn’t kick your ass, you’d still be carrying around a slingshot.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I’d’ve graduated to a shotgun by now.” Melchior chuckled. “And what’s this new organization stand for anyway? What is it supposed to do?”

Song made sure Melchior was looking at her before she spoke.

“Anything you want.”