"Colonel Golovko," the Chairman's secretary said. "The Chairman must leave now, and suggests that you return tomorrow morning at ten."
"But–"
"He's leaving now," the secretary said.
"Very well," Golovko replied and stood. He and Vatutin left the room together.
"The Chairman is busy," Vatutin observed on the way out.
"Aren't we all?" the other man replied after the door closed. "I thought he wanted this. I arrived here at four to write this goddamned report! Well, I think I'll have some breakfast. How go things in 'Two,' Klementi Vladimirovich?"
"Also busy – the people do not pay us to sit on our backsides." He'd also arrived early to complete his paperwork, and his stomach was growling audibly.
"You must be hungry, too. Care to join me?"
Vatutin nodded, and both men made for the canteen. Senior officers – colonel and above – had a separate dining room and were served by white-coated waiters. The room was never empty. The KGB worked round the clock, and odd schedules made for irregular meals. Besides, the food was good, especially for senior officers. The room was a quiet place. When people talked here, even if they were discussing sports, they did so almost in whispers.
"Aren't you attached to the arms negotiations now?" Vatutin asked as he sipped his tea.
"Yes – nursemaiding diplomats. You know, the Americans think I'm GRU." Golovko arched his eyebrows, partly in amusement, at the Americans, partly to show his not-quite classmate how important his cover was.
"Really?" Vatutin was surprised. "I would have thought that they were better informed – at least… well…" He shrugged to indicate that he couldn't go any further. I, too, have things that I cannot discuss, Sergey Nikolayevich.
"I suppose the Chairman is preoccupied by the Politburo meeting. The rumors–"
"He's not ready yet," Vatutin said with the quiet confidence of an insider.
"You're sure?"
"Quite sure."
"Where do you stand?" Golovko asked.
"Where do you stand?" Vatutin replied. Both traded a look of amusement, but then Golovko turned serious.
"Narmonov needs a chance. The arms agreement – if the diplomats ever get their thumbs out and execute it – will be a good thing for us."
"You really think so?" Vatutin didn't know one way or the other.
"Yes, I do. I've had to become an expert on the arms of both camps. I know what we have, and I know what they have. Enough is enough. Once a man is dead, you do not need to shoot him again and again. There are better ways to spend the money. There are things that need changing."
"You should be careful saying that," Vatutin cautioned. Golovko had traveled too much. He had seen the West, and many RGB officers came back with tales of wonder – if only the Soviet Union could do this, or that, or the other thing… Vatutin sensed the truth of that, but was inherently a more cautious man. He was a "Two" man, who looked for dangers, while Golovko, of the First Chief Directorate, looked for opportunities.
"Are we not the guardians? If we cannot speak, who can?" Golovko said, then backed off. "Carefully, of course, with the guidance of the Party at all times – but even the Party sees the need for change." They had to agree on that. Every Soviet newspaper proclaimed the need for a new approach, and every such article had to be approved by someone important, and of political purity. The Party was never wrong, both men knew, but it certainly did change its kollektiv mind a lot.
"A pity that the Party does not see the importance of rest for its guardians. Tired men make mistakes, Sergey Nikolayevich."
Golovko contemplated his eggs for a moment, then lowered his voice even further. "Klementi… let us assume for a moment I know that a senior KGB officer is meeting with a senior CIA officer."
"How senior?"
"Higher than directorate head," Golovko replied, telling Vatutin exactly who it was without using a name or a title. "Let us assume that I arrange the meetings, and that he tells me I do not need to know what the meetings are about. Finally, let us assume that this senior officer is acting… strangely. What am I to do?" he asked, and was rewarded with an answer right from the book:
"You should write up a report for the Second Directorate, of course."
Golovko nearly choked on his breakfast. "A fine idea. Immediately afterward I can slash my throat with a razor and save everyone the time and trouble of an interrogation. Some people are above suspicion – or have enough power that no one dares to suspect them."
"Sergey, if there is anything I have learned in the past few weeks, it is that there is no such thing as 'above suspicion.' We've been working a case so high in the Defense Ministry… you would not believe it. I scarcely do." Vatutin waved for a waiter to bring a fresh pot of tea. The pause gave the other man a chance to think. Golovko had intimate knowledge of that ministry because of his work on strategic arms. Who could it be? There were not many men whom the KGB was unable to suspect – that was hardly a condition the agency encouraged – and fewer still high in the Ministry of Defense, which the KGB is supposed to regard with the utmost suspicion. But… "Filitov?"
Vatutin blanched, and made a mistake: "Who told you?"
"My God, he briefed me last year on intermediate arms. I heard he was sick. You're not joking, are you?"
"There is nothing the least bit amusing about this. I cannot say much, and it may not go beyond this table, but – yes, Filitov was working for… for someone outside our borders. He's confessed, and the first phase of the interrogation is complete."
"But he knows everything! The arms-negotiation team should know of this. It alters the whole basis for the talks," Golovko said.
Vatutin hadn't considered that, but it wasn't his place to make policy decisions. He was, after all, nothing more than a policeman with a very special beat. Golovko might have been right in his assessment, but rules were rules.
"The information is being closely held for the moment, Sergey Nikolayevich. Remember that."
"Compartmentalization of information can work both for and against us, Klementi," Golovko warned, wondering if he should warn the negotiators.
"That's true enough," Vatutin agreed.
"When did you arrest your subject?" Golovko asked, and got his reply. The timing… He took a breath, and forgot about the negotiations. "The Chairman has met at least twice with a senior CIA officer–"
"Who, and when?"
"Sunday night and yesterday morning. His name is Ryan. He's my counterpart on the American team, but he's an intelligence type, not a field officer as I once was. What do you make of that?"
"You're sure he's not an operations man?"
"Positive. I can even tell you the room he works in. This is not a matter of uncertainty. He's an analyst, a senior one, but only a desk man. Special assistant to their Deputy Director for Intelligence, before that he was part of a high-level liaison team in London. He's never been in the field."
Vatutin finished his tea and poured another cup. Next he buttered a piece of bread. He took his time thinking about this. There was ample opportunity to delay a response, but –
"All we have here is unusual activity. Perhaps the Chairman has something going that is so sensitive–"
"Yes – or perhaps that is how it's supposed to appear," Golovko observed.
"For a 'One' man, you seem to have our way of thinking, Sergey. Very well. What we would do ordinarily – not that a case like this is ordinary, but you know what I mean – is that we assemble information and take it to the Director of the Second Chief Directorate. The Chairman has bodyguards. They would be taken aside and questioned. But such a thing would have to be handled very, very carefully. My chief would have to go to – who?" Vatutin asked rhetorically. "A Politburo member, I suppose, or perhaps the Secretary of the Central Committee, but… the Filitov matter is being handled very quietly. I believe the Chairman may wish to use it as political leverage against both the Defense Minister and Vaneyev…"