“Mr. Dubinin,” she says in English. “Or should I say Digby? Welcome.”
“Welcome to what? What the devil’s going on?”
“It’s funny, I was going to ask the same of you. This is not what we expected of you, Comrade, when we extended the arm of friendship to you and your family four years ago. We did not expect betrayal.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never once betrayed my loyalty to the Soviet Union.”
She allows a hint of inquiry to dent the space between her eyebrows. “Then why are we here? In Latvia?”
“I was kidnapped. My family and I, we were kidnapped by some kind of enemy operative, probably CIA—”
“You did not go willingly? You were not, perhaps, in the very act of returning to the protection of the US government?” She takes some documents out of the folder at her elbow and lays them out before him. “These passports, identification papers—they are not for you and your family?”
“I’ve never seen them before in my life. I don’t know where they came from, or who arranged it, but it wasn’t me. It’s someone trying to frame me, and I can’t begin to imagine why. Where’s my family? My wife and children? My wife’s just given birth, she might be ill—”
“Don’t worry about your wife and children, Comrade. Let us concentrate first on the matter at hand.”
Sasha leans against the chair, although not very much, because his hands are secured in a pair of handcuffs behind the chair’s back. “Whatever’s happened, I’m sure we can get to the bottom of it.”
“Yes, I’m sure of that,” the woman says. “Because if we don’t, I’m afraid we shall have to imprison you and your entire family as traitors to the Soviet people.”
“What? That’s nonsense!”
“I’m afraid so. You see, we have incontrovertible proof that you’ve been passing along vital and highly classified information about the KGB and its agents abroad for the past four years, in a counterspy operation named”—she looks down at some papers before her—“Honeysuckle.”
“Honeysuckle? I’ve never . . .”
The sentence dissolves in his mouth.
“Yes, Comrade?”
“I’ve never heard of it. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The woman puts her elbows on the table and leans forward. “Think, Comrade. Tell me about ASCOT.”
“The racecourse? I’ve been there.”
“Don’t play with me.”
“I’m not playing. I sincerely don’t know what you mean. I’ve spent the past four years tirelessly working on behalf of the Soviet people, who have welcomed me so warmly. I have never acted as a counterspy in the Soviet Union. Look at my records. Since coming here I’ve been grateful to be relieved of the burden of hiding my true loyalty. I’ve given up the booze, I’ve given up women, I’ve been a devoted husband and father. Just look at my records.”
He says the last words fiercely. Of course, he knows they’ve had him under surveillance. He’s always accepted this state of affairs philosophically, as the price one pays to hold off the ever-present threat of counterrevolution. Until now, in fact, he’s been glad of them. Let anyone doubt his true intentions in defecting! Let anyone say a word against him! In those dark and terrible days after Iris found him bleeding inside their apartment in Oakwood Court, having shot Beauchamp as an intruder, he had sworn that if Iris forgave him and offered him another chance, he would be true and loyal to the rest of his days. He would never touch another drop of alcohol! He would devote himself to Iris, as she had devoted herself to him. When she agreed to go along with him—yes, she would do it, she would defect with him, take the children and start over again with him in the Soviet Union!—he had worshipped her for it. He had loved and cared for Claire just as if she were his own child. And now this! This was how they repaid him! Just look at my records!
“Of course I have looked at your records, Comrade. I have examined every word, believe me. You’ve been an exemplary citizen, by all appearances. But there is also this. Discovered in the diplomatic bag of the American embassy in Moscow.”
“You opened a diplomatic bag?”
“You know this is sometimes necessary, Dubinin. Don’t play innocent.”
“I have never in my life opened the diplomatic bag of another country.”
“Then you have been derelict in your duty.” The woman picks up the slip of paper before her and lays it before him.