Charlie was intent upon the other man, pleased at the obvious reaction. Fredericks shifted in the chair, appearing to find it constricting despite its size. Then he sighed, for a different reason than Charlie earlier, and said: ‘On the second meeting, he gave us a name. It was one we didn’t have: we checked it out and it was right.’
Charlie shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘That won’t do.’
‘The name was Rodgers, William Rodgers,’ conceded the American. ‘Kozlov said he was an illegal, infiltrated into America from Canada five years ago. His real name is Anatoli Ogurtsov. He’s settled in San Francisco: runs an importexpor t business there. Deep cover. We’ve liaised with the FBI, of course; it’s their responsibility. They’ve so far identified four others that he’s suborned. Silicon Valley stuff, all hi-tech.’
‘You said it was a name you didn’t have?’ insisted Charlie.
‘The FBI either,’ expanded Fredericks. ‘Rodgers – or Ogurtsov – wasn’t on any file. And he’s been getting a lot of stuff out. It means we’re able to block a damned great hole.’
There was more, Charlie knew. He said: ‘OK, so illegals are run through the First Chief Directorate. But they’re trained by a completely closed off Directorate: just like Department V – Kozlov’s supposed division – is closed off. Because they both have to be. There is never any liaison or link-up, to prevent what’s just happened, identification from someone who’s become disaffected. So how come Yuri Kozlov knows that William Rodgers is really Anatoli Ogurtsov?’
The goddamned man really did want to know about sparrows pissing in adjoining fields, thought Fredericks. He said: ‘The routing. The major conduit for the hi-tech stuff that Ogurtsov has been getting into the Soviet Union has been through here, Tokyo. It’s been a known throughway for years.’
‘He told you that?’ said Charlie. ‘That he discovered Ogurtsov’s name because they were the onward shippers?’
‘Irena’s the source,’ said Fredericks. ‘She’s the Control, apparently.’
Bingo, jackpot and all the other winning words, thought Charlie. If Irena Kozlov had masterminded technology espionage into the Soviet Union from America – and maybe elsewhere – since the couple’s posting to Japan in 1983, she was a potentially bigger catch than her husband. Because she would know the identities of other illegals and other technology smugglers running operations, throughout the world. Who was it who had said this could be spectacular, Wilson or Harkness? Charlie couldn’t remember. It had been a pretty accurate assessment, though. Charlie’s mind ran on, objectively honest: if he’d been Fredericks, he’d have been as difficult and tried to hold as much back as he could. No, not as difficult; more so. He hoped he would have done better. Charlie said: ‘That’s the sort of bait that catches the fish.’
‘The Kozlovs are the fish,’ said Fredericks. ‘Prize-winners.’
‘Can the FBI bring Ogurtsov in without any suspicion coming back here?’ asked Charlie.
‘Easily,’ said Fredericks, confidently. ‘There are others, don’t forget. All the evidence will be that the Bureau found out through crooked American businessmen, out to make big bucks. There’ll be a plea-bargaining deal, lesser sentences for full confessions. All the usual stuff. Japan won’t even enter into it.’
‘All nicely topped and tailed,’ accepted Charlie.
‘Well?’ asked Fredericks.
‘I said the bait looked good,’ qualified Charlie. ‘I didn’t guess at the fish. You did.’
‘You’re the smart-ass!’ challenged Fredericks. ‘Have you ever known a better cross-over offer?’
Charlie considered the question and then said, honestly: ‘No.’
‘So it’s kosher?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ contradicted Charlie.
‘For Christ’s sake!’ exploded Fredericks. ‘What does it take to convince you!’
‘Not even Him,’ said Charlie, twisting the American’s exasperation. ‘He should have fingered Judas as a double.’
‘What’s that mean?’
‘Nothing,’ evaded Charlie. ‘Just me smart-assing.’ Why should he keep warning the Americans that things were not always as they seemed? Let them work it out, like he hoped to do.
Fredericks looked doubtful. Then he said: ‘That’s it. You’ve got it all now.’
Charlie had distrusted people who told him he had it all from the moment he’d been parted from the tit. What he did have was enough – well, almost enough – for the moment: more, in fact, than he’d expected to get. He wanted just one more thing. In passing, Charlie wondered if Fredericks would ever know how much he’d conceded; and apparently missed. He said: The photographs?’ and recognized at once from the expression on the American’s face that Fredericks had hoped he would not make the request. Silly sod, thought Charlie; as if he’d overlook something as important as photographs.
‘I said …’ started Fredericks but Charlie interrupted him yet again, aware of the advantages he’d finally secured and aware, too, that the time was for apparent impatience. ‘Don’t!’ warned Charlie. ‘Don’t tell me that you sent everything for picture analyses to Washington and nothing is left here. Because I thought we’d agreed to stop being stupid towards one another, and if you told me that I’d say you were stupid to entrust something so important to a diplomatic pouch which might have been destroyed in an air-crash or intercepted and opened during an aeroplane hijack. And if you said it was done by personal air courier, I’d say you were mad to let go of one of the most importance pieces of material you’ve so far managed to obtain, since Kozlov’s approach. And then I’d go on to say that I don’t think you’re that stupid. Any more than I hoped you wouldn’t think I’d be stupid enough to believe it …’ Charlie grinned, accusingly. ‘Do you know what I think? I think that somewhere in a safe not very far away – maybe in this very room – you’ve not only got the negatives of every photograph you took of Kozlov but a whole interesting selection of prints, as well.’
Fredericks made as if to speak but then shook his head, in self-refusal. Instead he moved slightly to his left and opened what appeared to be a panel where the desk drawers should be. Charlie couldn’t properly see, from where he was sitting, but guessed it was a safe, floor-mounted. Unspeaking, the American offered four photographs to Charlie, who took them and said: ‘Thanks.’ They wouldn’t be all, and they wouldn’t be the best, Charlie knew: but at least he had four. He took his time, examining each. Fredericks’ assessment of the Russian being nondescript was very apt: ten Kozlovs had a place in every bus queue there’d ever been.
‘The right,’ insisted Charlie.
‘What?’
‘You said he parted his hair on the left. But you forgot the reversal effect of a photograph. It’s the right.’
‘It’s a deaclass="underline" I won’t regard you as a fool,’ said Fredericks.
‘It’s a deaclass="underline" I won’t treat you like one either,’ said Charlie. Which was altogether different from promising not to cheat and lie and do everything else he could to screw the other man, to come out on top. To achieve which it would, in fact, be stupid to consider Fredericks … well … stupid. Suddenly remembering, he added: ‘Stop having people follow me. It’s ridiculous.’
‘I won’t do it any more,’ promised the American, again too easily. He said: ‘There’s not a lot that we can do now until we get Kozlov’s meeting arrangements?’
‘No,’ agreed Charlie. Not much, Sunshine, he thought. Charlie extended the reflection, on the way back to the hotel from the US embassy. He’d still have liked to have known more. But then possibly, with the benefit of hindsight, so would the captain of the Titanic. What he had was sufficient, and it would take a lot of assembly and assessment, and he was glad there was going to be a gap before any possible meeting with the Russian. Thank God he’d contacted Harry Lu. He wondered what additional fall-out protection he could get together: sure as eggs were things that usually ended up all over his face, he was going to need some.