But now Dominika had to get to Gable to tell him her plan, before her last two days were spent in the protective shadow of Sergeant Blokhin. No more pushing Little Miss SUSAN. She mustn’t become suspicious. Conversation tailed off. The meeting was over.
Consistent with established tradecraft procedures, Dominika left the mausoleum first and returned to Manhattan. She never saw the other woman again. Russians don’t say that someone is a top pro, they say podkovat blochu, that someone can shoe a flea. This woman was like that: even after a fifteen-minute meeting with the illegal, standing three feet away, Dominika couldn’t have picked SUSAN out of a crowd if her life depended on it. And she knew eventually it probably would.
DOMINICK’S SAUSAGE, PEPPER, AND ONION CALZONE
Sauté thinly sliced red and yellow bell peppers, thinly sliced half-moons of onion, and finely minced garlic until soft. Season, add dried oregano and red pepper flakes. Add crumbled Italian sausage and continue cooking until meat is browned. Let mixture cool, then stir in mozzarella, Parmesan, and chopped parsley. On a floured surface, roll out seven-inch rounds of pizza or bread dough. Place a small amount of meat mixture in the center of the dough circles, then fold over and seal the edges with a water-wet finger. Use a fork to press a flute pattern into the dough along the seam, and poke a small steam hole on top. Brush tops with olive oil. Bake in a medium-high oven on a cookie sheet until golden brown. Let rest slightly and serve lukewarm with heated marinara sauce.
9
Cradle Snacking
The bohemian charm of Staten Island left behind, Dominika and Gable were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the banquette in the back of a little bar in Chelsea on Hudson Street called Employees Only. It was late and the bar was half-full. A small plate of Parmesan frico cups filled with tomato salad sat untouched between Gable’s beer and Dominika’s wine. Dominika had just finished telling Gable about her trip to Staten Island, going into the Vanderbilt mausoleum, and the spooky meeting in the dark with the illegal. Gable shook his head and took a sip of beer.
“You didn’t see her face at all?” Gable said.
“Not even the color of her hair,” said Dominika. “She stayed in the shadows the whole time. She was very good. I did not push it.”
“Jesus wept. And you think she uses Staten Island to meet agents?” asked Gable.
“She said it was well-suited for operations,” said Dominika. “But Staten Island goes on forever. How could you cover it?” Gable shrugged.
“Facial-recognition software in cameras at the ferry terminal might pick her up,” said Gable.
“If we knew what she looked like, perhaps,” said Dominika. “But we do not.”
“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” said Gable. “She could drive her ass over one of the bridges too.”
“May I tell you an idea about how we could identify her?” said Dominika. “I am thinking we could take a page out of the old KGB handbook.” Gable drank some more beer.
“I could order two more drinks if this is going to take long,” he said. Dominika smiled and patted his arm.
“Terpeniye, patience, Bratok, you will like this,” she said. “Now listen. Before I leave New York, I ordered SUSAN—yes, ordered her most sternly—to retrieve my encrypted personal mobile phone from a dead-drop site of her choosing in Manhattan, for destruction and secure disposal.”
“And she went for that?”
“I used my colonel’s voice on her. Russians respond to bullying.”
“You sure as hell don’t,” said Gable.
“That is because you never bully me,” said Dominika.
“I’m too scared to,” said Gable. “Okay, you dead drop your phone, we set up an ambush, and bag her ass? That’s no good; it puts you in hot water.”
“I am not thinking of an ambush, which we must avoid for exactly that reason. We just have to pass the physical item in a timed drop at a site of her choosing, someplace that offers her absolute security. No ambushes, no surveillance at the site.”
Gable looked sideways at her. “I’m waiting for the punch line,” he said.
“We dust the cell phone with metka.”
“Smegma?” said Gable, being obtuse. “What the hell’s that?”
Dominika laughed. She knew the obscure word from Sparrow School. “You are a real krutóy páren, a sharp fellow. You know very well what I said. Metka, not smegma. Spy dust, like the KGB used in Moscow to track Americans. I’m sure Benford has chemists who could prepare a compound.”
“Moscow will still wonder how they lost their sleeper,” said Gable.
Dominika shrugged. “They will not connect me with her eventual arrest, not if you catch her months later by using spy dust. Of course, the Kremlin will be annoyed, but the Center will rationalize that twenty years as an illegal in the United States exceeds all expectations of survival,” said Dominika. “I know the Russian mind; they will be looking for someone to blame, but if we do this right, Line S will never divine how she was identified, nor will they appreciate the irony that metka was used against them, after all these years. SUSAN will naturally follow orders and destroy the phone, leaving no evidence but her invisibly contaminated hands.”
“Not bad. I’ll run it by Benford.” He picked up his phone, pushed a speed dial, and Westfall appeared in the bar two minutes later, gulping as he shook Dominika’s hand again, mumbling like an embarrassed butler. Dominika got up and gave Westfall a chaste hug of greeting, with the result that he turned vermillion. Gable repeated a summary of Dominika’s plan to him, told him to call Benford on the secure line and get working on it. They had two days to cook up their own batch of metka. Lucius bowed that he understood.
Gable shook his head at Westfall’s awkwardness. “You gonna click your heels like a Prussian?”
Dominika dug her elbow into Gable’s ribs. “Leave him alone,” she said. “Lucius, do you understand the plan?” Lucius nodded.
“We do this right, Domi’s in the clear, and sugar britches glows in the dark until Christmas,” said Gable.
“What is this sugar britches?” said Dominika.
“Skip it, figure of speech.”
“I am sure,” said Dominika, looking sideways at him. “Westfall, do you know what it means?” Westfall gulped, shook his head, and left, saying he’d call Benford right now. Dominika felt even sorrier for him than before.
“Okay. So the FEEBS check after hours the offices of the leading literary magazines in Manhattan—how many of them can there be—and see whose spaces glow under a black light,” said Gable.
Dominika held up a cautionary finger. “There is some need for attention with metka. The KGB had difficulty with overcontamination. In a week, SUSAN will shake many hands, distribute memos, and conduct business lunches in restaurants. In several months, everyone in publishing in New York will be covered in the stuff, not to mention half the talent agents in the United States.”