“Excellent. So we use Academician Ri for the time being to monitor those cabbage eaters and their infernal nuclear triggers,” said Gorelikov. “Meeting him in Vienna will be delicate.”
You have no idea, thought Dominika. “I have a support asset assisting me locally,” said Dominika.
“The Petrescu woman?” said Gorelikov. “She’s quite impressive.” Jesus, this elegant haberdasher knows a lot.
Gorelikov pushed the platter toward her. “More salad? There’s another delicate task the president intends to assign to you. He’s convinced the Chinese intelligence service, the MSS, is spying on us, a view I do not necessarily share.
“Since you are SVR Chief of Counterintelligence, President Putin wants you to handle official liaison relations with the Moscow representative of the MSS.” A lot to tell Benford, right away. A SRAC shot to Langley, tomorrow night, at the latest. After dinner with Ioana, just back from Vienna.
“It appears I will busy,” said Dominika.
“Welcome to the siloviki,” whispered Gorelikov, as he put more salad on her plate.
SEL’D POD SHUBOY—HERRING UNDER VEGETABLE SALAD
Finely dice boneless herring fillets. Separately grate cooked carrots, potato, peeled apple, and hard-boiled egg whites (reserve yolks). Finely grate cooked beets (drain well) and whip with mayonnaise to make a velvety spread. Layer grated ingredients in a deep oval relish dish, pressing each layer firmly, starting with herring, potatoes, a thin coat of mayonnaise, carrots, apples, and egg whites, then mayonnaise, herring, potatoes, and carrots. Completely cover compressed salad with the beet spread on the top and sides, like frosting a cake. Garnish with finely grated egg yolk and refrigerate. Serve with crusty country bread.
6
Behave Like a Bull
The Uzbekistan Restaurant on Neglinnaya Ulitsa in Moscow’s theater district was a Central Asian seraglio lavishly decorated with framed mirrors, chandeliers, and overstuffed banquettes littered with kilim pillows. Dominika pushed through the brushed copper door into the restaurant, registering the aroma of baked lamb laced with cardamom, coriander, and fenugreek. She brushed past the maître d’, squeezed between opulent tables in the main room, and took the three steps up to the raised dining level. At the back of this private space, under a purple-and-blue striped canopy, sat Dominika’s Sparrow, Ioana Petrescu. She was sipping a glass of white wine and did not wave or otherwise acknowledge seeing Dominika approach. Ioana had lost the tan from her time in Greece, but was elegant in a pair of leather pants, and wore a red silk blouse with a bateau neck. There was the familiar pulsing crimson halo around her head and shoulders, the aura of passion, and lust, and heart, and soul.
“I automatically thought I’d have to buy new lingerie for babysitting your nuclear scientist, but then I remembered he’s not interested. So instead I bought a fur coat to keep me warm in Vienna,” said Ioana in French, without a word of greeting.
“It’s coming out of your pay vorishka, you sneak-thief. Did you find the right apartment? It’s going to be important to keep him safe. When he comes to you for dinner, or when we have meetings, you have to make sure he arrives clean. Those maniacs watch their people closely. And the IAEA is like a small village: everybody knows everybody else’s business.” Ioana nodded.
“I found a house on the island, a riverside beach cottage on the other side of a little lake called Kaiserwasser half a mile from the International Center, five minutes’ walk from IAEA. He can walk to the house and back in fifteen minutes, if he has to. The houses are summer rentals; they’re all empty now. The Danube feeds the lake and surrounding inlets, the neighborhood is very wooded, and the cottage is quiet and cozy. A shame the professor doesn’t care for fun.”
Dominika laughed. Ioana hated the Sparrow life as much as she had. She was smart and efficient, which is why Dominika drafted her to do the preliminary ops work in Vienna.
“Have you considered that the professor is not interested in fun with you? With your backside spreading north and south, he may not be attracted.” In truth, Ioana’s buttocks were like sculpted marble from years of championship volleyball.
“I have decided I like you less and less each year,” Ioana said.
“Forget about your zadnitsa, your fanny,” said Dominika. “Did you install the recorder in the cottage?”
Ioana nodded. “A long-play wire recorder in the cupboard. Two wireless pickups around the chairs and table. The machine is voice-activated so I don’t have to turn it on. Not as good a job as a tech could do, but you can’t see a thing.” More to tell Benford, but it could wait until the next SRAC shot. She already was up to the character limit for tonight’s transmission.
“We’ll go back to Vienna after I return from New York. It will be time to talk to him again by then.”
“Buy me something expensive in New York,” said Ioana.
“You already bought yourself a mink,” said Dominika.
Ioana shook her head. “A watch; the one that shows phases of the moon.”
“You need a $10,000 Swiss watch so you’ll know how long to play the French flute with a recruitment target?”
“From someone who used to faire une turlutte before breakfast, that’s a bit rich,” said Ioana.
“A wristwatch is out,” said Dominika. “Maybe a pair of shoes with round heels instead.”
“Liking you less and less.”
“What are we eating?” said Dominika, looking at the time. She still had two hours.
“There’s chicken with mushroom cream, like our ciulama de pui in Romania,” said Ioana. “Even beastly Uzbeks know our food is best.”
“Slava Bogu, thank God for Romanian food,” said Dominika, ordering two plates, which arrived quickly. Tender pieces of chicken in a rich sauce suprême of cream and mushrooms fortified with egg yolks and sour cream, served with Russian mashed potatoes. The women looked at each other after the first bite, approving.
They ate in silence. Ioana was content knowing that Colonel Egorova depended on her and was satisfied with her. This late dinner was proof of that. Dominika trusted her to rent the Vienna safe house. There would be other operations, maybe even the possibility of being made an officer in the Service. Egorova would take care of her.
On the sidewalk outside the restaurant, they kissed on both cheeks and without a word of farewell, Ioana walked north on Neglinnaya Ulitsa. Dominika watched her go, leather pants hissing like a snake, and thought how she would have preferred to be going with Ioana for a nightcap. But there was work to do, and Ioana had nothing to do with it and could know nothing. She would be porazheny, amazed if she knew.
Carrying the heavy bag with her signaling equipment over her shoulder, Dominika started walking south on Neglinnaya, feeling the ice water flow into her chest as she went operational. It was a transformation both mental and corporeal, the mark of a street operator, partly learned, partly instinctive. Her pulse quickened and she tamped down the adrenaline rush in her neck and shoulders. Dominika’s vision became acute—crystal clear and focused on the middle distance. Her hearing likewise was tuned to the timbre of the street around her—she heard car engines, the hiss of tires on wet cobbles, and the shuffle of footsteps on the sidewalk. It was late; Moscow traffic, while never nonexistent, would be light. She had to determine her status: she had to know she was surveillance-free, she had to get black.