Chapter Six 1999 A half hour had passed since Christine arrived for the second �therapy� session with Madeline, but they had yet to begin their scripted performance. Instead, Madeline had felt compelled to indulge the other woman in tedious small talk and gossip about the Sections. Such conversation bored her, and she found herself increasingly impatient and distracted. But Christine was a lonely woman, forced to lead a secret life for over twenty years, and she clung desperately to the brief opportunity to speak with someone who understood. It showed in her eyes, which lit up like those of a refugee meeting a long-lost relative. As much as she tried to suppress it, Madeline felt a growing sense of pity. But they were running late, which made Madeline anxious. When the conversation reached an appropriate lull, she smiled apologetically. �I�m afraid we need to get down to business.� She reached over to initiate the surveillance, but stopped when Christine held up her hand. �You know, Madeline, before we begin -- I�m curious about something.� �What is it?� �Why are we moving against Nikolai now?� Christine�s brow wrinkled in a deep frown. �I�ve spent years trying to convince him to join forces with Badenheim. Right now, we're on the brink of success -- why are we killing him before we finally get access to their leadership?� It was a perceptive question -- but one that couldn�t be answered. Madeline took a deep, slow breath as she paused to consider the best response. �We�ve decided that there�s a better way to undermine their leadership,� she said calmly. �So I�ve spent twenty-one years in this marriage, manipulating him and his career -- all for nothing? It was a total waste?� Christine�s tone sharpened in exasperation. Looking at Christine's resentful expression, Madeline felt a flare of anger that she quickly struggled to douse. She was not accustomed to being questioned, much less challenged -- at Section One, she was simply obeyed. But, clamping down on her irritation, she reminded herself that to Christine, she was still a former colleague, an equal. In this situation it would be better to respond in kind instead of flexing her authority. She leaned forward with an air of friendly concern. �It wasn�t a waste, Christine. It�s just that unforeseen things sometimes happen.� She spoke softly and gave Christine a sympathetic smile. �And believe me, your hard work has been appreciated.� Christine's anger slowly melted. She sighed and paused for a few moments before she spoke again. �What�s going to happen to me next?� A faint trace of apprehension sounded in her voice. Madeline kept her expression relaxed and warm. �You�re going to go on to another long-term assignment,� she answered casually. �Doing what?� Christine�s voice then dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. �I�m worried, Madeline,� she confessed nervously. �I�ve been living this life for so long, I�m not sure I�ll be able to adjust to another assignment.� The twinge of pity that Madeline had stifled pushed its way back into her consciousness. She shoved the unwelcome emotion down again as quickly and brutally as she could. �Well, I don�t know the details, but I understand that it will be a very simple assignment. You won�t be asked to do much at all.� Madeline reached over and patted Christine�s hand reassuringly. �And we�ll help you adjust to the change.� Christine took a deep breath and relaxed. �Good. I look forward to something easy.� Then she smiled brightly. �Oh, one last thing.� �Yes?� �Maybe this is a silly question, but I don�t understand why the script today calls for me to talk about Paul Wolfe. Why would whoever you�re recording this for care about my cover story?� �Does it matter?� �It�s just odd. I thought this was all about Nikolai. I mean, Paul Wolfe never even existed, did he? He was just invented for my background.� Madeline tensed inwardly but forced a chuckle. �Well, I just threw it into the script because it seemed like something a patient and a therapist might talk about. We want to be sure this looks realistic, don�t we?� �I see,� Christine said, nodding. �You know, you�re really quite good at this. No wonder you got promoted.� 1979 �Thank you for coming here with me today.� Adrian looked over at Paul, who walked beside her respectfully. �The Jardin du Luxembourg is my favorite place to relax and think -- it�s such a vivid reminder of the beauty and goodness in the world that we�re trying to protect.� �It really is very beautiful,� he agreed, stepping aside briefly to allow a woman with a stroller to pass by. �And it�s nice to get out into the sunlight sometimes,� she added, watching his face carefully for his reaction. �Those of us who live in the darkness need that every so often. Otherwise, our hearts might grow dark, too.� He nodded, but she wasn�t certain if he truly understood the advice she was trying to give him. His military background made him so deferential to her, as his superior, that at times she couldn�t read him. Perhaps she needed to be more direct. She watched a young boy run to catch a bouncing red ball -- and miss, laughing gleefully as he chased after it -- and then turned back to Paul as he walked with her on the path. �It�s no secret that I see you running the Sections someday. I think it�s time I start to tell you some of the things you�ll need to know.� He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at her expectantly, his crystal-blue eyes sharpening with curiosity. �First, it�s absolutely essential that you stay focused on our mission. We are truly the last bulwark against the forces of barbarism and violence in the world. Every other agency, every government -- they�ve all become shortsighted, in one way or another, so that they make convenient little compromises with evil.� Her eyes searched his face, looking to see if he appreciated the seriousness of her point. She saw a polite attentiveness, but nothing more. She stopped walking and grasped him by the arm for emphasis. �You cannot allow that to happen to the Sections,� she said intently. �With the power that we wield, any such compromise would corrupt us irreparably. We would become worse than the people we�re fighting.� Finally, she saw a flash of understanding in his eyes, and she smiled. �That�s what I meant about getting out into the sunlight occasionally.� �I see.� He nodded thoughtfully. She started to walk forward again, and he matched her steady, relaxed pace. �But there�s something else,� she continued. �In fact, it�s the real reason why I wanted to speak with you. You�re going to need some help.� �I thought that�s what you were for,� he said with a joking laugh. She smiled. �No, my dear, I mean once I�m gone. You�re going to need a lieutenant -- a second-in-command.� �Like George.� �Exactly.� She walked several steps in silence, examining the row of statues along the path, before she spoke again. �The job is simply too much for one mortal. You need to find someone to whom you can delegate the tasks that you�re less suited for. Otherwise things will be impossible.� �Well, that�s sound advice, and I�ll be sure to follow it.� She shook her head. He was missing the point. �It�s not as simple as that. You need to start looking for that person now.� �Now?� He laughed lightly. �Are you planning to retire soon?� �No, I think I have a few good years left.� She smiled at him in return, but then grew serious again. �Choosing your second is the most important task you can engage in. It can�t be done overnight. You�re going to have to start studying your colleagues, deciding whether they would make a good match. And then you have to build a relationship with them, learn to work with them -- it can take years to do it properly.� His forehead wrinkled in thought. �And what makes a good match?� �Two things. First, you have to choose someone who brings you balance, who complements you and makes up for your weaknesses. In my case, for example, I get bored with routines. George, however, thrives on that sort of work.� He nodded, and they continued to walk on. �Second,� she continued, �it must be someone who accepts that you are in control -- who believes in your leadership. Not someone who is trying to overthrow you or who hides things from you.� She stopped again and turned to look deep into his eyes. �If your second keeps secrets from you, it�s the beginning of the end.� Aside from the copious amounts of salt, the soup was tasteless. But it was hot, and Madeline was freezing, so she dunked her bread into the watery substance and continued eating. At times, she harbored the suspicion that Ohanian�s reluctance to travel had less to do with his declining health and more with his wish to avoid Eastern European prison cooking. She looked at her watch, noting the late hour -- at that very moment, back in Paris, he was probably enjoying a nice wine at his favorite restaurant. Shivering, she dipped her spoon in the bowl, but then stopped in surprise as she heard the door of the drab office squeak open. She looked up to see a man enter holding a steaming plate of food. He was young and slim, unlike the red-faced, vodka-drinking guards she was accustomed to, and he had a warm, intelligent smile. �I thought you might be hungry for some real food,� he said, setting the plate, a knife and a fork down in front of her. She looked at the plate, and her eyes widened in amazement. �I didn�t know steak was so easy to come by here.� He grinned and pulled up a chair to sit next to her at the desk. �It�s not. But I have certain privileges.� Dubious about the quality of the steak, she sliced a piece and tasted it gingerly. �It�s delicious. Thank you,� she said politely. He sat quietly for several minutes, watching her eat with what appeared to be great amusement. Then he inched his chair slightly closer. �I'm your boss, you know,� he announced with a smirk. �Really?� Her tone was sarcastic. As much as she appreciated the food, she was exhausted, and she wasn�t in the mood for games. He leaned back in his chair, laughing at her reaction. �Yes, yes, I know you�re employed by our good friend the professor. But it�s my prisoner you�re interviewing tonight, so in a sense, you�re also working for me.� �I see,� she said, relaxing slightly. �And who are you?� �Egran Petrosian, at your service.� He held out his hand enthusiastically. She shook it and noticed the restrained power in his grip. �Pleased to meet you,� she replied. �KGB, I take it?� He nodded pleasantly. �Usually I coordinate these visits with Dr. Ohanian, but he�s informed me that you�re going to be doing more and more of this work yourself. So I decided it was time I introduced myself.� She returned to her meal but felt him continue to watch her carefully. �It�s a strange line of work you�ve chosen,� he remarked with an odd smile. �Why would someone so young and beautiful do something so � so distasteful?� She stiffened defensively. �I find it interesting.� �Do you?� He raised his eyebrows, looking intrigued. �Then we have something in common.� He placed his elbows on the desk, leaning in close to her. �I think we�re going to enjoy working together.� �We are facing a very grave situation, ladies and gentlemen.� Paul watched as Adrian walked slowly back and forth along the briefing table, her eyes traveling from operative to operative. As her eyes met his, he felt himself being assessed, tested. He straightened his posture and returned her gaze confidently. A faint smile crossed her face in response. �Our intelligence indicates that the Soviets are less than a year away from completing research on an improved method of processing plastic explosives,� Adrian explained, continuing her steady pacing. �This method would enable the production of explosive material that leaves essentially no residue.� Walter, sitting at the far end of the table from Paul, whistled softly under his breath. The group turned to look at him briefly before they returned their attention to Adrian. �What this means, in practical terms, is that it would be almost completely odorless -- even in large quantities -- and therefore undetectable. Not even the most sensitive bomb-sniffing dogs would catch it.� The operatives stirred in their seats uncomfortably -- all except Lisa, the young woman sitting next to Paul. She stared into space with a sad, vacant look. Paul wondered whether he should elbow her into paying attention, but then decided against it. If she didn't have sense enough to listen to one of Adrian's briefings, she wasn't worth helping out. Let her sink or swim on her own. If Adrian assigned her to his team, he'd make sure she wasn't doing anything critical. And he'd warn Charles and the other team leaders to handle her the same way. �There is no legitimate military purpose for such a substance,� Adrian said somberly. �However, I don�t need to tell you its potential for use in acts of terror. In fact, we understand that several groups have already expressed an interest in purchasing it from the Russians.� Adrian walked back up the table toward Paul, continuing her languid, casual pace, but then suddenly stopped -- directly in front of Lisa. Lisa looked up, startled, as Adrian looked down at her silently. Even from his vantage point on the periphery of Adrian�s gaze, Paul felt a chill. Lisa turned white, and Adrian, without a word, resumed her pacing. �This research must be stopped before it proceeds any further. There are two facilities in the Soviet Union conducting this research -- one in Georgia, one in the Ukraine. Our mission is to destroy them. Unfortunately, we face some unusual obstacles in doing so.� �What sort of obstacles?� Charles asked, from his seat next to Walter. �Our normal allies -- the CIA, MI6 -- don�t want the research stopped,� Adrian answered, letting a touch of bitterness creep into her voice. �Instead, they want to obtain the data themselves. As a result, we�re not going to receive our standard logistical support from them when we go in. That means no supplemental intelligence, no shared satellite data. We�ll be utterly on our own. For a mission in the heart of the Soviet Union, that will make things rather dangerous.� Paul bit the inside of his cheek to keep his face from showing his dismay. Without satellite intelligence, dangerous was an understatement. It would be as close as one could get to a suicide mission without being in abeyance. �For that reason,� Adrian continued, �I've planned several practice missions before the real one. We will spend the next several months making certain that our intel and execution are flawless.� She stopped pacing, clasped her hands in front of her, and swept her eyes across the room. �We start tomorrow. I want everyone here at 0600 hours for a detailed briefing. Is that understood?� They nodded their assent grimly. Adrian turned to Lisa and smiled softly. �Lisa, your concentration seemed a bit off today. I expect it to improve by tomorrow.� �I�m sorry, ma�am. I had a personal issue on my mind today. It won�t happen again.� Adrian�s smile faded. �We're the protectors of the public, my dear. For us, duty takes precedence above all else. Please don't make me remind you again.� Her voice was gracious and polite, but glacial in temperature. �Yes, ma�am.� Lisa looked at the floor, and the muscle at the side of her jaw twitched visibly as she clenched her teeth. With a firm nod to the other operatives, Adrian walked briskly from the room. Lisa sat for several moments, unmoving, then abruptly jumped from her chair and exited. �Christ, an emotional female,� Richard said, making a face. �I suppose she broke a nail this morning,� he added sarcastically. �Lay off,� Walter snapped. �You know what day it is.� �No,� Paul said, frowning. �What day is it?� �Her twins� birthday.� Walter looked at Paul as if the statement should have meant something. It didn't. Paul hadn�t worked with Lisa before, although he had been vaguely aware of her presence for several years. �You know, the ones they took away from her,� Walter said in a low voice, looking around a bit nervously. �I have no idea what you're talking about.� Walter sighed. �When she was recruited a few years back, she was pregnant. With twins. After they were born, Adrian had them � removed. One went to,� he shook his head, �well, it doesn't matter where they went.� �Adrian forcibly separated her from her children? And Lisa just accepted it?� Paul asked, incredulous. �Yeah,� Walter answered, looking slightly sick at the thought. �Well, then, Lisa is weak,� Paul scoffed. �If Adrian had done something like that to me, she�d be dead right now. Section be damned. I wouldn�t care if they cancelled me or not.� Walter stared at him with an odd, almost pitying expression. �You don�t say.� A bright beam of late afternoon sunlight cut sharply across the small conference table, falling directly in between Madeline and the stern-faced man who was her handler du jour. She sat completely still as he read her report, the pages rustling softly as he turned each one. He seemed to be in no hurry to finish. The rustling continued, providing an occasional accent to the muffled roar of the traffic outside the window. The ray of light slowly shifted, eventually shining on Madeline and making her drowsy with its heat. Just as she found herself nodding off, the handler lifted his head and spoke. �The biofeedback research data is particularly detailed. Excellent work.� �Thank you.� She straightened, blinking quickly in an effort to regain alertness. �Any way you can prod the professor into doing more of that sort of thing? What you learn could be quite useful for training operatives to resist interrogation.� �He�s a bit reluctant to pursue it for the moment.� She paused, wondering how much to reveal. �There was an accident not long ago.� �An accident?� The handler raised a bushy eyebrow. �A cardiac arrest.� �Well, that�s to be expected upon occasion, given the nature of the procedures. Was there a fatality?� �No.� �Then what was the problem?� �It involved � self-experimentation.� She swallowed nervously. �By me.� He gaped in astonishment, the fleshy folds of his face turning ash-white. �What in God�s name were you doing?� �I wanted to test a theory. There weren�t any other subjects available at the time, so I tried it myself.� She smiled wryly. �It had unexpected results.� The explanation, although accurate in a sense, wasn�t entirely honest. In truth, she had turned to the equipment in desperation, hoping that she could train herself to achieve a dreamless sleep, free from the images of pleading prisoners that woke her regularly -- and without the side effects of the sedatives that, as a holdover from her hospital experiences, she still refused to take. It hadn�t worked. And unfortunately, Ohanian had been the one to find her unconscious and call an ambulance in a panic. Afterwards, furious, he had declared that research closed forever. But she was sure that with a reasonable passage of time -- and a promise from her to refrain from further experiments -- he could be persuaded to resume it. The handler continued to stare at her as if she had some dread disease, but finally forced himself to return to the report. �Well,� he said, clearing his throat uncomfortably and flipping to a new page, �I see you�ve been working closely with a KGB agent named Egran Petrosian.� �That�s correct,� she confirmed quickly, happy to move onto a new subject. �He�s the KGB�s liaison to Dr. Ohanian. He arranges all of our visits to the Soviet Union.� �Petrosian is a rising star in the KGB,� he continued. �Long-term access to him would be invaluable.� �That shouldn�t be a problem. I see him every two to three weeks. Unless he�s transferred, I don�t see that changing anytime soon.� �Meeting with him to coordinate your work isn�t enough,� the handler said, setting the report down and giving her a sharp look. �You need to do more. Something to gain influence over him.� She frowned, waiting for him to elaborate. �Such as?� she asked, finally. The handler sighed and rolled his eyes in apparent exasperation. �Oh.� She felt her face redden, embarrassed that she had been so slow to catch on. �I see.� �Is that going to be a problem?� he asked, using a tone that suggested it had better not be. �No, no,� Madeline answered hastily, trying to hide her surprise. �I just wasn�t certain what you meant. It�s not a problem at all.� �Anything interesting going on with Paul Wolfe these days?� George smiled in greeting as Walter looked up from his work. Walter set down his wirecutters with a clatter on the metal surface of the table. A look of disgust seeped across his face. �I want you to find someone else to spy on him,� he said bitterly. �I�m tired of doing your dirty work.� George circled slowly around the table. He placed his hand on Walter�s shoulder, enjoying the other man�s discomfort at the invasion of his personal space. �Now, Walter,� George drawled, �all you have to do is keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn�t find certain people. How hard can that be? It�s not as if you�re hurting anyone.� �That�s your opinion.� Walter looked at a wall, avoiding George�s gaze, his shoulder muscle tensing under George�s hand. �The way I see it, I�m helping you take what used to be a decent human being and turn him into a heartless bastard. That goes against everything I believe in.� �Well, you don't really have a choice, now do you?� George removed his hand and stared at Walter, daring him to respond. Walter stood quietly, a flood of emotions playing across his face. Finally, he looked back at George, his eyes blazing. �Why is it always me? Following Paul around, picking out which one of Lisa�s twins gets to go free -- why the hell do I always get these jobs?� George relaxed. Walter knew he had no options. This little show of anger was, in reality, a form of capitulation. �Because you�re a survivor, Walter. That's the one thing I�ve noticed about you. Survivors know when to follow orders and when not to, and they know when to keep their mouths shut.� He laughed. �Why, you�ll probably still be here alive and well long after the rest of us are gone.� �Yeah, well, I just want to survive with my soul intact.� Ah, yes, Walter�s precious five percent club. Walter took that so seriously, but George found it amusing. He smiled, deciding to needle the man. �Pity. Life is so much easier without one.�