The Kremlin's Candidate: A Novel

VADM Rowland had, as Gorelikov predicted, long ago become accustomed to the act of espionage. She initially rationalized the treason by telling herself that sharing science with Russia would level the technology playing field, engender mutual confidence, and actually lessen the chance of a third world war, a conflict no sane person thought would be survivable for either side. She enjoyed the florid notes of thanks and admiration from astonished Russian scientists praising her technical brilliance, just as she reveled in the yearly meetings with Uncle Anton, who was elegant, well dressed, and urbane, and could discuss art, or music, or philosophy as well as the limits of shipborne phased array radar, or the megawatt generating capacity of the Zumwalt-class destroyer.

The relationship between agent and masters matured. As MAGNIT’s performance continued unabated, and her reliability ratings remained at the highest level—all services constantly assess their canaries, for the first sign of trouble in a case is an anomalous change in intel production—Gorelikov, at Putin’s direction, began parallel handling: GRU officers handled MAGNIT inside the United States, although they were little more than mailmen, collecting drops and passing requirements. Gorelikov, however, began meeting MAGNIT during her annual personal leave, her one break from her otherwise total devotion to the laboratories, Special Access Programs, personnel management, and budget-oversight duties that consumed her. Everyone knew that stork-like Admiral Rowland chose rugged campestral destinations for her solo monthlong holiday travels: hiking in Nepal; photo safaris in Tanzania; camping in Jamaica; or kayaking down the Amazon. To colleagues unaccustomed to seeing rawboned Audrey Rowland in anything but her uniform, vacation photos of her in hiking shorts, boots, cargo pants, or a wet suit usually raised eyebrows and occasioned muttered comparisons to Ichabod Crane.

Meetings with Anton were arranged on the margins of Audrey’s exotic vacations, in luxurious rented houses in the nearest large cities to avoid extra travel and incriminating stamps in her passport. The agent’s initial, delusional rationalization for spying evolved under the philosophical tutelage of Uncle Anton, who sought to keep Audrey motivated. The notion of “level playing fields” seemed less relevant in the New Cold War of active measures and cyberoperations. Anton instead often raised the inequity of the system for women in the navy, drawing from Audrey’s progressively less-guarded comments about a childhood clearly and completely dominated by an overbearing father, a rakish naval aviator who cowed his quiescent wife and as much as told Audrey he would have preferred a son. If her father were alive today, Audrey told Anton, he would have to salute her. Anton agreed that women had the same problem in Russia: forced by society, customs, and institutions to let men steal emotional strength away from them. Anton’s wry empathy struck a chord in Audrey. What she was doing—passing secrets, meeting furtively, accepting payment from the Kremlin—she was doing for herself, and she was doing it to excel in her career despite the men, despite the system. The growing balance in her Center-managed accounts—she already had five million dollars’ worth of the Kremlin’s euros, Krugerrands, and uncut diamonds—was further personal validation that this was due her.

Anton recognized that the notion of espionage as an engine of Audrey’s emancipation was a potent control factor. Additional control naturally came from her sexual appetites. Despite liberalizations in the US armed forces, Anton continually harped on the necessity of keeping her predilection for female lovers a secret lest she derail her career. The closeted world that Audrey inhabited kept her in an itchy state and made her a better agent: nervy, edgy, and resentful. Her annual vacations abroad were delicious opportunities to spot, pursue, and bed tantalizing lovers. Anton several times had to intercede with local authorities when sessions with Audrey and a local partner became too spirited—Audrey on the boil occasionally became physical. Anton even arranged for forged-alias identity cards to keep her true name out of local police blotters if things got out of control. The sex was a handling problem, but it was worth the bother as a tool to control MAGNIT, for when she was back in Washington behind her desk at ONR, the Office of Naval Research, broad stripes on her sleeves and three stars on her collar, she was by necessity benignly celibate, and had to live the part.