Joseph Kanon - Defectors

“I will ride with you,” Boris said.

“Deal,” Hal said. “You won’t regret it.”

“I’m regretting it already. But my publisher insists,” he said, a smile to Simon. “He wants me to be famous.”

Nancy, who hadn’t said anything, now nodded to each of them as she left, lingering for a second on Frank, her eyes wide, fascinated. Francis Weeks, a man in a hotel dining room. Before Hal could follow, the Chinese at the next table got up and filed out, separating Hal and Simon from the table.

“You brought your wife,” Simon said, his voice low.

“If anything goes wrong, she’d be a hostage in Moscow. She won’t be in the way.”

“It’s a complication.”

“Then make sure nothing goes wrong. Was that okay?”

“Perfect.” Smiling now and shaking his hand good-bye.

“Is this really necessary?” Frank said as Simon sat down.

“We need to do something and he’s harmless. And he’s here. With four hundred outlets there.” He looked across. “How many interviews are you going to be able to do here? Spend an hour and you’re in four hundred papers.”

“But why can’t they all come to Moscow?” Marzena said.

Simon looked at her, at a loss. “It’s a long trip,” he said finally.

“Didn’t you think he looked a tiny bit like Howard?” Joanna said to Frank. “Think of his arm in a sling.”

“Who?” Simon said.

“Howard Cutler,” Frank said. “One of Joanna’s old flames.”

“Oo, there were so many?” Marzena said.

“No, not many,” Joanna said, not rising to this.

“Why was his arm in a sling?”

“He was shot. Here.” She pointed to her elbow. “In Spain.”

“Another one in Spain. You were there, no?” Marzena said to Frank. “It’s a weakness for you.” Now to Joanna. “Always a man in the brigades.”

“Not always,” Joanna said, glancing at Simon. “Howard went over first. Before anybody really. And then there he is, back from the front, wounded, you can’t imagine how romantic. Everybody was—” She stopped, patting Frank’s hand. “Long before you.”

“What happened to him?”

“He went to work for Browder. In the Party. And then—I don’t know. What happens to people?”

“Hard to keep track,” Marzena said, still playful. “So many lovers. You forget.”

“No you don’t,” Joanna said, her voice distant. “You don’t forget anyone. Not a single one.”

“Well, before you start remembering and telling us about them, let’s go to bed,” Frank said. “I have an interview in the morning. It turns out.”

“You go up. I want to sit with Simon for a little while.”

“Yes, a nightcap,” Marzena said.

“No, you too. Just Simon. Talk about old times.”

“Jo, I really think—”

“No, I mean it. Off you go. All of you. Oh, don’t say it. I’ve had too much. No more, I promise. Off you go. Shoo.”

Frank looked at Simon, a you-going-to-be-okay? raise of the eyebrows.

“I’ll get her home. We’ll be up soon.”

“My escort. Always a gentleman. Even back when. A gentleman.”

Frank made a gesture behind her, wagging his finger over a glass. Simon nodded. Marzena hesitated, not ready to leave.

“Come to the bar,” Boris said to her.

“Good,” Joanna said when they were alone. “Now we can talk. I keep feeling the hours ticking away. And then you’re gone. Let me have some of yours,” she said, pouring from his glass. “Looks funny sitting with an empty glass.” More Chinese passed them, the room emptying. She took out a cigarette, quiet as he lit it for her. “There, that’s nice. We can talk. What shall we talk about?”

Simon smiled. “Tell me about Howard.”

“Oh, Howard. I thought he was John Reed, somebody like that. Man of action.”

“And you were Louise Bryant?”

“For about ten minutes. I mean, there he was, back from the front, and all the other boys were playing tennis.” She looked down at the ashtray. “Maybe he does too now. Golf. So I was flattered.”

“What happened?”

She shrugged. “Turned out he really was a man of action. One minute here, one minute there. I couldn’t keep up. And then I didn’t want to.” She drew on the cigarette. “He was like you.”

“Me?”

“He couldn’t decide if he was in love with me.”

Simon looked at her. “Would it have made any difference?”

“With him?”

“With me.”

“I don’t know. It’s nice, somebody in love with you.”

“Maybe not so nice for him.”

She looked up. “Wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Anyway, it’s a long time ago.”

“But you weren’t, really, or you would have held on—”

“You were already gone. Let’s not go over this again. Things worked out the way they did.”

She nodded. “But here’s the funny thing. Tonight, when I saw Marzena making eyes at you, I wanted to scratch her face.” She raised her hand, making her fingers claws. “Leave him alone. Not him too. As if I had any right—but who cares about rights? I thought, not him. He’s not yours. He’s— So there still must be something.”

Simon managed a smile. “Jealousy, anyway. I don’t deserve it.”

“I couldn’t help it. Pure instinct. Take your hands off him.”

“No, I meant there was nothing to be jealous of.” He looked at her. “She wasn’t even in the room.”

Jo moved her hand, covering his.

“Careful. Boris might be watching from the bar.”

“I don’t care. It’s just—seeing her made me think of that time. I didn’t leave you. Things happened, that’s all.”

“I know. Other people.”

“So I can still feel a little jealous. I don’t want her— First Frank, now you.”

“Not Frank either.”

“You said. How do you know?”

“Male intuition.”

“Ouf,” she said, waving her hand. “It’s not a joke. I know what she’s like. And he was there all the time. What’s he doing there?”

Simon moved his hand away. “Spying on her husband.”

“What?”

“Getting him to talk. As a friend. Then reporting everything to the office. They keep files on people like Perry. Troublemakers. He’ll talk to a friend. Stories about the other scientists. Who else should they worry about? Make a file for. Marzena was just—there.”

Joanna had sat back, her face slack. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“Why? Frank’s a spy. For the KGB. What do you think they do?”

“He made reports on Perry? How can you know that? It’s not true.”

“Why not? He made reports on me. Pumped me for information and made a report. How do you think it’s done?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Yes it is.”

“He’s too highly placed for that.”

Simon said nothing, the silence its own reply.

She took a drink, grimacing when she put down the glass. “And what did you do? When you found out?”

“Do? He was gone. He was here. With you. I don’t think he ever thought of it as wrong. Me, Perry, any of us.”

“You had to leave your job. He ruined your life.”

“No. I made another one.”

She looked up. “But I can’t.”

Another silence, staring. “Yes, you can. I’ll help you.”

“Help me? How?”

Too close. No more. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Figure something out. It’s late. We should go up.”

“Why would you do that? After—”

He took her hand again. “Old times’ sake.”

She smiled. “Old times’ sake.”

“Come on,” he said, pulling her to her feet. She leaned against him as they crossed the lobby and waited for the elevator. He slid the cage door open. Bronze, mahogany panels that needed polishing.