Heads You Win

“We’re hoping you’ll feel able to work alongside us, Mr. Karpenko.” Alex thought back to their first meeting. “For the past six months,” continued Hammond, “two of our agents have been watching you day and night while you’ve been working as a courier for a man known as Ivan Donokov, who we’ve had under surveillance for some time.”

“But Ivan assured me he wasn’t dealing in drugs,” said Alex.

“And he isn’t,” said Hammond.

“Then what?” asked Alex, feeling nervous for the first time.

“Donokov is a senior KGB operative, who runs a network of agents right across the country.”

A long silence followed, until Alex said, “But he hates the communists even more than I do.”

“He knew that was exactly what you wanted to hear.”

“But we met playing chess…”

“It wasn’t a coincidence,” said Travis, “that Donokov was sitting at a chessboard with an empty seat opposite him when you first walked into Players’ Square.”

“How could he possibly have known that—”

“We think Major Polyakov tipped him off after you and your mother escaped from Leningrad.”

“But he didn’t know that I played chess, and—” Alex stopped in mid-sentence.

“No, it was probably your friend Vladimir who supplied Polyakov with that piece of information,” said Hammond.

Another long silence, that neither Hammond nor Travis interrupted.

“What a complete fool I’ve been,” said Alex.

“To be fair, Donokov is an old pro who’s been around for a long time, and once you got yourself into debt, frankly you were willing to believe anything he told you.”

“Am I going to be sent back to Leningrad?”

“No, that’s the last place we need you to be,” said Hammond.

“So what do you expect me to do?”

“Nothing too demanding to begin with. After all, we don’t want to let your friend Donokov know that we’re on to him. Keep delivering his messages, and occasionally one of my agents will make discreet contact with you. Just let him know what that day’s message is, and then carry on as normal.”

“But Ivan’s no fool. It won’t take him long to work out what you’re up to, and then he’ll drop me like the proverbial hot potato.”

“Or worse,” said Hammond. “Because I have to make it clear that your life would be in danger if Donokov were to discover that you were working with the CIA.”

“But on the other hand,” Travis added, “with your help, we might just be able to break the ring and put Donokov and his gang behind bars for a very long time.”

“What makes you think I’d even consider taking such a risk?”

“Because it was Ivan Donokov who ordered your father’s death.”

“No, you’re wrong about that,” said Alex. “I can prove it was Polyakov.”

“Polyakov is just a pawn on the KGB’s chessboard. Donokov moves the pieces.”

Alex was speechless, then said, almost to himself, “That would explain why he’s always so well informed.” It was some time before he asked, “How did you blow his cover?”

“We have an agent working for us in Leningrad who detests the KGB even more than you do.”

*   *   *

Alex returned home later that evening. Now he had yet another secret he couldn’t share with his mother, or even Dimitri. Could it be possible that Dimitri was also working for Donokov? He had, after all, recommended he visit Players’ Square. Or was he a CIA operative? One thing Alex knew for certain—he couldn’t risk asking him.

He tried to continue working for Ivan as if nothing had happened, but of course it had, and he was sure it would only be a matter of time before he was found out.

It was about a fortnight after his meeting with the two CIA agents that the first interception took place. Alex was standing on the platform at Queensboro Plaza, waiting for a train to Lexington Avenue, when a voice behind him said, “Don’t look around.”

Alex obeyed the simple command, although his whole body was shaking. A few moments later the voice whispered, “What’s today’s message?”

“A package will be arriving from Odessa on Thursday, dock seven. Make sure you pick it up.”

The man left without another word. Alex delivered Donokov’s message as usual.

For the next few weeks, agents would appear on the subway, on buses, and once when he was crossing a busy intersection. He always passed on whatever message Ivan had given him that day, and then, like the morning mist, they evaporated into thin air, never to be seen again.

Alex could only wonder how long it would be before Ivan worked out that he was serving two masters. But he had to admit, if only to himself, he enjoyed the challenge of trying to convince the KGB man that he had no idea what he was really up to, although he accepted that Ivan was as good a chess player as he was, and his queen was exposed.

*   *   *

He couldn’t have missed him. In fact it worried Alex just how obvious he was, standing on the subway platform wearing a smart charcoal gray suit, white shirt, and blue tie. He even smelled CIA.