Tom Smith - Agent 6

– If you follow through with this, they will never see their father again. They might even be subject to an investigation, questions might be asked about their loyalty.

The threat was shrewdly targeted. The offer was tempting. Leo considered the prospect of returning to Moscow. He would be reunited with his daughters. Nara and Zabi would be safe. Yet could he trust the offer and trust the captain to keep his word? He might be executed as soon as he returned to Kabul. The defector, Fyodor, who’d escaped only for a day, and for no other reason than because he’d fallen in love, had been executed. Leo’s betrayal was far more serious.

Allowing Leo to think upon the mixture of incentives and warnings, Vashchenko turned to Greene, angling his attacks at the nation ready to accept him.

– You should consider carefully whether this man is asset or a liability.

Before Leo could interject Greene answered in fluent, graceful Russian:

– We have considered the matter carefully. We’ve already accepted his petition for asylum. Furthermore, he is not in Soviet-controlled Afghanistan, he is in Pakistan, and you have no legal hold over him here. My colleague Salaam is furious at your unauthorized entry into his country. I’m afraid we can’t let you have him.

Leo managed enough composure not to exclaim aloud, or gaze at Greene in dumb surprise, trying to react as if this lie were the truth, and an obvious truth at that. Greene toyed with his packet of cigarettes.

– I should point out, were you to be arrested in Pakistan, a Soviet officer – which I presume you to be – the Pakistani government would be upset. You would be classified as a spy. It could cause problems for you, problems far worse than the problems you’ve come here to solve.

Greene quickly translated his comments into Urdu for the Pakistani intelligence officer, who nodded. Leo knew that there was no chance Captain Vashchenko would ever allow himself to be caught alive. And were he to be found dead in Peshawar, the Soviet government would deny that he was working for them, rolling out any number of excuses.

A timid young waiter arrived at the table carrying four bottles of cola on a steel tray. The captain knotted his fingers together, placing his hands on the table.

– The Pakistanis provide aid and weapons to the Afghans. The pretence of their neutrality is not asset to the Soviet Union. We do not care about upsetting their feelings.

Greene glanced at Salaam, muttering an abbreviated translation, before saying to the captain:

– Where does that leave us? Suffice to say that murdering a CIA operative in Pakistan would change the United States’ perspective on the war dramatically.

The captain smiled.

– No one needs be hurt. We just washouan. It is as simple as that. I believe he is of no use to you. The United States should not be foolish enough to send troops into Afghanistan. Why become embroiled in a conflict so far away? Demidov’s information is of no relevance to you.

Though his expression hadn’t changed, somehow Greene’s face communicated an intense dislike of the captain.

– I’m sorry, I still don’t know your name…

Leo remarked:

– He is Captain Anton Vashchenko.

There was silence for a while, calculations being made, options being considered. Greene continued smoking, dumping ash into the untouched cola. The captain was growing impatient. He switched back towards Leo.

– Demidov, return to Afghanistan with me. You do not belong in America. The two people you are trying to protect are no longer in danger. And your defection would put your daughters at home in a terrible position.

Leo lowered his head, considering the danger that Elena and Zoya faced if his defection were known.

Judging from the movement of his eyes, Captain Vashchenko had begun to discreetly weigh up the degree of threat. Fahad was his only serious opposition. Greene seemed oblivious or unconcerned, inhaling deeply, blowing smoke through his nose. Leo was convinced that Vashchenko’s next remark would be his last before he resorted to violence. The captain said:

– Do not get involved in Afghanistan. The Afghans hate you as much as they hate us. If you do not interfere in our affairs, if you refuse to supply weapons to the mujahedin, we will bring order and the rule of law within a matter of months. We will open schools, rebuild roads, repair infrastructure. We will educate the population. If the United States joins this war you will condemn the country to years of chaos. You will not find an ally at the end of it. You will create a regime that will despise you as payment for your support. Greene dropped his cigarette into the cola bottle, where it fizzed on the surface.

– I will pass on your message to my superiors.

Greene translated the conversation. Salaam listened carefully then spoke to Greene for a moment. Greene translated:

– Salaam will allow you to walk out of here without being arrested. That’s the best he can offer. Live to fight another day. He has no interest in escalating hostilities with the Soviets.

Leo had remained silent through these discussions. They were coming to an end with no resolution between the parties. He had no option but to act.

Using his knee, he shook the table, toppling one of the cola bottles to the stone floor. As it smashed and as the eyes of the men were drawn to the noise, he bolted forward, grabbing a dirty knife from the table and plunging it into the captain’s neck. With the aid of the distraction and his senses no longer dulled by opium, his speed was reasonable and Vashchenko failed to block the attack. The knife entered the captain’s throat. The two Afghan operatives looked down in horror, having discounted Leo as a threat. Fahad reacted first, drawing his gun and killing the Afghan officers. Fahad did not execute Vashchenko, leaving him seated. Leo grabbed the captain’s hands, pinning them down. Even mortally injured, the man was incredibly strong and tried to pull free. Leo didth="1equo; t let him move, holding his hands tight. The captain’s legs kicked, thrashed, he leant forward, almost touching Leo’s face. Finally he weakened, his eyes closing, but Leo still did not let go, pinning his hands down long after the captain had stopped moving.

Leo released Vashchenko and allowed him to drop to the floor. He stood up and remarked:

– He would never have allowed me to live. He would never have allowed himself to be captured. There was no compromise to be made.

It had been a long time since Leo had killed a man. Still seated, Greene edged his smart shoes away from the blood pooling on the ground, remarking:

– The Soviets have gone to extreme lengths to silence you. You’re worth more to them than I thought.

Salaam peered at the bodies. He knelt down, searching the captain’s pockets. Leo whispered to Greene:

– Will we be given asylum? Will you support my request? Greene considered.

– Yes.

*

Leo slowly climbed the stairs, confused whether he should be pleased or apprehensive. He could not be sure his defection would remain a secret. However, at long last, he had a passage to America and no matter what, Zabi and Nara would have a new home. With this thought, he hurried up the stairs, two steps at a time. At the top-floor corridor he ran down to the room, throwing open the door. The curtains were drawn back and a pale orange glow from the street spread across the bed linen. Nara and Zabi were nowhere to be seen. He entered the room, moving around the bed, finding them seated, cross-legged on the floor, hidden in the corner. He sat down beside them, unable to articulate what had taken place downstairs – that there was the chance of a new home. Despite his smile, he saw both Nara and Zabi staring at his hands. In his haste, he’d forgotten to wash them. They were smeared with blood. He considered putting them behind his back. Perhaps it was better that they’d seen. Bloody hands were the price he’d paid for their freedom.