Mishka Ben-David - Forbidden Love in St. Petersburg

BOAZ DIDN’T BUY Anna a ticket. She wasn’t then in any danger, and the meeting with her new controller never, of course, really happened. Anna was not yet suspected of anything, notwithstanding Alexei Nikolayevich’s questions in his phone conversation with her which had, indeed, taken place, and made HQ’s doctoring of the call possible. The SMSs that Alex sent to Udi’s mobile were planned and scheduled in advance as part of the fictitious and sophisticated presentation which had ensnared me and which I only learned of months later.

What happened to Anna as a result of this plot I found out in detail only years afterwards.

When she returned to the shop and found it abandoned she began to worry. It was hardly credible that I’d leave the shop for no good reason and without even leaving a note. Customers prevented her from leaving the shop to look for me. She called home and got no answer. As time passed her worry grew, and as the hours went by she began to realize, with an increasing sense of apprehension, that something had happened to me. She then linked this fear to Alexei Nikolayevich’s phone call and the visits to the shop by Roman and Levanon.

If what he’d said was true, that some young foreigners were hanging around the house and shop in operational mode, then perhaps they were behind my sudden disappearance? Had they kidnapped me? Killed me? she wondered.

Anna closed the shop before five and hurried home. When she discovered that all my clothes and suitcases were there and later also found my passport, she understood that something bad was happening and that she had to do something. In her distress, she called Alexei Nikolayevich. He listened attentively to the story of my disappearance, said he knew nothing about it but would check with HQ to see if they were involved and would issue an alert to the people on the ground. He did indeed issue a directive. He ordered his people to put Anna Petrovna under surveillance. She’s agitated and liable to make mistakes, he said, she could also lead us to her missing partner.

Anna spent a long, sleepless night. Every possible scenario went through her mind but she retained hope; that if I’d fled, for whatever reason, I’d think again and return; and that if I’d been taken by force I’d be released or would escape and make my way back to her. She sat at the window surveying the white empty street below from up on high. It snowed, at midnight the heating faltered, but she continued stubbornly to sit there, wrapped in a blanket, gazing out. On the odd occasions when a car stopped outside, or somebody passed by, she opened the balcony door, went out and looked down, her bones pierced by the cold, her feet submerged in the soft gathered snow. But each time she was disappointed and hurried back into the apartment.

Morning found her shivering from the cold, her forehead burning. But she was determined. It was clear to Anna that I wasn’t coming back. It was also clear to her where she had to find me. She waited till the beginning of the business day and ordered a plane ticket to Israel. Not long after that she arrived at the airport with a small suitcase. The instant she collected her ticket at the counter she was approached by two FSB agents who informed her that she was under arrest.

The unmarked Lada swept into the parking bay inside the big building housing the FSB. From there the internal lift took Anna and her two escorts to the third floor. Unprotesting, she walked with them through the long and familiar corridors of the organization’s counter-espionage wing.

Instead of being taken to the interrogation room she was led into a spacious conference chamber. She stood at the door and scanned the people sitting to one side of a wide table waiting for her in silence, staring at her.

Among them was ‘Mikhail’, the man with the Stalinist appearance whose picture had hung in her bedroom. Some six months earlier she’d been photographed embracing him solely for the purpose of putting the snapshot on the living room table in her apartment. Her ‘dead’ husband was, it turned out, simply a work colleague. His face was expressionless. Also sitting there was Sergey, the bag snatcher. The burly sullen man glowered at her as only a betrayed lover could. Then there was Dimitri, the sharply-dressed good-looking young man who tried to flirt with her in Vashkirova’s restaurant. He had a slight, scornful smile on his face. Seated at the head of the table was Alexei Nikolayevich, Anna’s controller.

Alexei gestured to her to sit in the chair on the other, unoccupied, side of the table. Her two escorts stood behind her.

For some months now we’ve been asking ourselves what has been happening to you, Anna Petrovna, the controller began by saying.

In the past, it took you just one, two or, at most, three meetings to expose anyone suspected of spying. When we saw that time was passing and you’d not even established contact with Paul, we helped you. But as for results–there weren’t any. It does happen that even experienced spy catchers like you fail. It doesn’t happen often because we put a well-oiled apparatus at your disposal that supplies you with a lot of helpful information about your adversaries. But mind battles are mind battles. Some you win some you lose. Up until now we were prepared to accept your failure as something that happens in this game. Do you want to respond to this?

Anna looked straight into the eyes of the man with whom she’d worked for many years, turned her gaze away from him and surveyed the other faces staring at her, some with curiosity, some in embarrassment, some in disgust, and said, no.

So, we’ll continue, said Alexei Nikolayevich. I just want to make sure the recording equipment is working.

A technician, sitting out of sight at the other end of the room, with headphones and a tape recorder in front of him, confirmed that everything was OK.

But you decided to go ahead and invited the suspect into your house, out of step with the planned time for such a visit and without getting prior clearance. From that moment on, the blame for what ensued rests on your shoulders. Do you want to say anything about this decision of yours?

You’ve already arranged a hearing for me to clarify it and I explained, Anna said. I’m sure there is a well-ordered transcript in my file.

Correct, said Alexei, and pulled out a bundle of papers from a slender portfolio lying in front of him. Here, and I quote: To crack this hard nut I had to bring him into my home, to be with him. This is where I asked whether by the term ‘to be with him’ you meant ‘to sleep with him’ and you answered in the affirmative, and continued by saying, I feel that he will open up to me only if we develop a romantic relationship. End quote. Do you confirm that?

I assume that’s more or less what I said, Anna replied.

That’s what you said or that was also the truth? the controller asked.

That’s what I said, Anna repeated.

But it’s not necessarily the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Is that right?

Anna paused for a moment before answering, and then said quietly, nothing about our lousy profession is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Nor is it in our miserable lives. She lowered her eyes, enveloped in a pain that suddenly erupted from within her and threatened to swamp her eyes with tears. She breathed in deeply. Anna had no intention of breaking down here, in front of her colleagues.

Anna Petrovna, we’re not insensitive people. We’re also sufficiently seasoned campaigners to realize that there are cases in which the ‘hunter’ falls in love with the ‘hunted’. We all know about the Stockholm Syndrome whereas here, where the story is the very reverse, we have the St Petersburg Syndrome, Alexei said, expecting to hear chuckles of agreement from his colleagues. We live at a time when one could even forgive such a thing, he continued. But you asked us to keep our distance, not interfere with your work, not hassle you until you found something and informed us. What you found and forwarded to us were reports that acquitted Paul entirely of any suspicion. Do you want to explain this?