The prodigal spy

“I already told you. I was at a party with Jin. There was a Jiri, somebody I met here. I didn’t make him up, just what happened. Your father was there and I was amazed. I thought he was in Moscow or dead or something. It was like meeting a ghost. So I told Jeff I’d met him, what he’d said, and he got interested. I don’t think they even knew he was in Prague. So what was he up to?”

“And you told him my father wanted to see me.”

“Why not? As far as I was concerned, he was-”

“I know, a murderer. So you decided to catch him.”

“No. I never thought I’d see him again. I went back to Paris. Then Jeff came and said he’d been thinking about it and why did your father want to see you and maybe I should do it, do what he asked, and it might be important and wouldn’t I do it for him?”

“But not tell me.”

“Would you have come?”

“No.”

“So I thought, why not? I didn’t even know you. Jeff really wanted it. And it was interesting. I wanted to know Narodni I figured I owed it to her. To find out once and for all. And then when it started, I thought, I can’t do this. It’s like working for the FBI, not Jeff. That’s when I realized what he was, really one of them. And by that time I knew you. I was going to call it off in Vienna-I was supposed to check in with him there, before we crossed the border. But you changed the plan, remember? You didn’t want to wait and I–I went with it. I couldn’t tell you. I thought, what if nothing happens? Just a visit. Nobody had to know. Your father never suspected.”

“No, he had you checked out,” Nick said. “He believed you.” A love affair, his father had said, young people always had love affairs. Some plausible young man at the embassy, not CIA, nobody to worry about. “Everybody believed you.”

“Yes.”

“So you wanted to call it off, but you saw Foster here anyway.”

“I had to. I couldn’t just leave. I had to put an end to it, tell him to stop. I was afraid if I didn’t-”

“What?”

“That he’d talk to you. That you’d find out from him.”

“Oh. Instead of from you. Just when were you planning to tell me?”

She turned to look at him. “Never.”

“Never. Not even after we were home. Why not?”

“Because I knew you’d look at me the way you’re looking now.” Her eyes were moist, filling.

“So no one would be the wiser,” he said, angry at the tears, not wanting to be disarmed. “Especially me. But it didn’t work out that way.”

“No.”

“What did you tell Foster?”

“There was nothing to tell. We went to the country. No dark secrets from the past. Nothing that would interest anybody at home. Just a visit. End of story.” She hesitated. “I told him I didn’t want you to know about me. That it would ruin things. I made him promise.”

“Don’t worry, he kept it. Your secret’s safe with him.” He took out a handkerchief and held it out to her. “But that wasn’t exactly the end. You told Foster he was planning to leave. Didn’t you?”

She blew her nose, nodding at the same time.

“Why?”

“I never thought he was serious. It was just some crazy idea. And Jeff kept hounding me. What did they talk about? What did they talk about? He wanted to know who his contacts were, who he saw in Prague. As if I’d know. So I said it wasn’t like that. He was out of it, retired. He even had this idea about going back and he wanted you to help. That’s how out of it he was-in some dream world.” She looked up at him, her face still covered by the handkerchief. “I didn’t want Jeff to think it was real, get all excited. Maybe try to contact him. I didn’t think it was real. I didn’t.” A thin wail.

Nick turned away, not wanting to face her, waiting as she caught her breath. “Tell me something else you were never going to tell me,” he said quietly. “He wasn’t going to leave it alone, was he? Not after that. He wanted you to find out more. From me. Stay close to me. Let him know. He made you promise to keep going, didn’t he? Then he’d keep his.”

He waited, hoping he’d overshot, his stomach turning when he saw her nod again into the handkerchief.

“But I wasn’t going to,” she said. “I just said it to make him stop. I wasn’t going to.”

“God, Molly.” He leaned back against the bridge, feeling hemmed in. His Czech watchdog down the road was staring at the river. The American was closer, stifling a sniffle. “Tell me something. What did that feel like? In bed. Spying on me.”

“I wasn’t spying on you.”

“What do you call it?”

“I thought we were making love,” she said quietly. “That’s what it felt like to me.”

“Spare me.”

She raised her head, stung, then shrugged and gave him the handkerchief. “It’s true, for what it’s worth. Anyway, how would you know? Did you even know I was there?”

“Not both of you.”

“Maybe you can’t,” she said, ignoring him. “You don’t care about anything unless it happened twenty years ago. I hate what he did to you. Making you think you could get it back. Who could compete with that? You don’t have room for anybody else. Just him.”