Red Sparrow

Dominika tried to build momentum in minute and undetectable stages. As they continued meeting at the pool it was natural that they introduced themselves. Nate said he was a diplomat in the American Embassy working in the Economic Section, Dominika said she was an administrative assistant in the Russian Embassy. She heard him recite his cover legend, and gave her own. He’s very natural, thought Dominika. What sort of training do they get? Typical, trusting American, incapable of a true konspiratisa. He looked at her without guile, his purple halo never changed.

God, she’s serious, thought Nate. Typical Russian, afraid of putting a foot wrong. But he liked her reserve, her underlying sensuality, the way she looked at him with her blue eyes. He especially liked the way she pronounced his name, “Neyt.” But he gloomily told himself she could not have access to secrets. Come off it, she’s just a beautiful Russian Embassy clerk. Twenty-four, twenty-five, Muscovite, Foreign Service, junior admin, remember to get the patronymic and family name off the registration card at the pool. To have gotten out of Moscow this young, she probably has a sugar daddy. Not hard to believe, looking at that face, the body underneath the spandex. Unattainable. Nate decided to send in traces, just for form’s sake, but knew he’d be moving on.

This was not a honey trap against a hapless European on her home turf, Dominika told herself. This was an operation in the foreign field against a foreign intelligence officer. She was Center-trained, she knew she would have to reel him in carefully. She had filed an initial contact report to Yasenevo, detailing the first few contacts. Volontov was pressing for forward movement.

A couple of weeks, no response from Langley on the trace cable. Typical, but who cares? thought Nate. It was enough to meet her occasionally and drink in that face. He had gotten her to smile twice, her English was good enough to get a joke. He wasn’t going to spout off in Russian and scare her.

One evening, as they finished swimming, they turned to climb the ladder to get out of the pool. They bumped into each other. Her suit clung to her curves. Nate could see her heartbeat beneath the drum skin of spandex. He offered Dominika his hand climbing up the ladder. Her hand was strong, hot to the touch. He held it for a beat and let go. Face impassive, no reaction. He held her eyes for another beat. She took off her swim cap and shook her hair.

Dominika knew he was looking at her, kept calm, distant. What would he say if he knew she had been trained as a Sparrow, if he knew what she had done with Delon and Ustinov? She would not, absolutely not, seduce him. She would hear the cackles all the way from Moscow. No, she was going to accomplish this with discipline, with cleverness. Move it forward, she thought. Time to start opening the human envelope, to shake up that frustratingly consistent purple mantle.

Dominika said yes to Nate’s suggestion that evening that they stop for a glass of wine in a neighborhood bar. His face had lit up with surprise, then pleasure. Seeing each other in street clothes on the sidewalk seemed strange. Dominika sat firmly on the other side of the little table, nursing a glass of wine.

Now elicitation: Where are you from in the United States? Do you have brothers and sisters? What does your family do? She was going down the list, filling in the blanks in his papka.

If Nate didn’t know better, this would have sounded like a debriefing. Maybe she’s just nervous, deflecting questions about herself. When Russians aren’t being intense, he thought, they’re being obtuse. Well, let her relax. He was not going to spook her by going in too hard. Spook her from what? he asked himself. She wasn’t a target and he wasn’t going to bed her.