Agent in Place Read Free Page A

Fifth Avenue. But they saw no one, heard nothing; they headed purposefully for the near-by clusters of rocks and crags and their own private spot. Mischa’s eyes continued their assessment and chose the empty path that led westward across the park. His cane gestured. “Less interruption here, I think. And if no one is already occupying those trees just ahead, we should have a nice place to talk.”
    And a good view of anyone approaching, Alexis thought as they reached two trees, just off the road, and stepped close to them. The bushes around them had been cleared, so even a rear attack could be seen in time. Suddenly he realised that Mischa wasn’t even thinking about an ambush by muggers at four forty-five in the evening—he probably assumed that ten o’clock or midnight were the criminal hours. All Mischa’s caution was being directed against his old adversaries. “Central Park has changed a lot since you were last here,” Alexis said tactfully. This was a hell of a place to have a meeting, but how was he to suggest that? “In summer, of course, it’s different. More normal people around. Concerts, plays—”
    “A lot has changed,” Mischa cut him off. “But not in our work.” His face broke into a wide grin, showing a splendid set of teeth. His clever grey eyes crinkled as he studied the younger man, his hat thumbed back to show a wide brow and a bristle of greying hair. With rounded chin and snub nose, he had looked nine years ago—although it would be scarcely diplomatic now to mention the name of a non-person—very much like a younger version of Nikita Khrushchev. But nine years ago Mischa had had slight gaps between his front teeth. The grin vanished. “There is no détente in Intelligence. And don’t you ever forget that.” A forefinger jabbed against Alexis’s chest to emphasise the last five words. Then a strong hand slapped three affectionate blows on Alexis’s shoulders, and the voice was back to normal. “You look like an American, you talk like an American, but you must never think like an American.” The smile was in place again.
    Mischa broke into Russian, perhaps to speak faster and make sure of his meaning. “You’ve done very well. I congratulate you. I take it, by the way you walked up so confidently to meet me, that no one was following you?”
    The small reprimand had been administered deftly. In that, Mischa hadn’t changed at all. But in other ways, yes. Mischa’s old sense of humour, for instance. Tonight he was grimly serious even when he smiled. He’s a worried man, thought Alexis. “No, no one tailed me.” Alexis’s lips were tight. “But what about you?” He nodded to a solitary figure, husky and fairly tall, who had walked along the path on the heels of two men with a Doberman, and now was retracing his steps. Again he didn’t glance in their direction, just kept walking at a steady pace.
    “You are nervous tonight, Alexis. Why? That is only my driver. Did you expect me to cope with New York traffic on a Saturday night? Relax, relax. He will patrol this area very efficiently.”
    “Then you are expecting some interest—” Alexis began.
    “Hardly. I am not here yet.”
    Alexis stared.
    “Officially I arrive next Tuesday, attached to a visiting delegation concerned with agricultural problems. We shall be in Washington for ten days. You are bound to hear of us, probably even meet us at one of those parties you attend so zealously. Of course I shall have more hair, and it will be darker.”
    “I won’t flicker an eyelash.” As I might have done, Alexis admitted to himself: you did not live in a Moscow apartment for six months, completely isolated from other trainees, with only Mischa as your visitor and tutor, and not recognise him when you met him face to face in some Senator’s house. But Mischa had not slipped into America ahead of his delegation, and planned a secret meeting in Central Park, merely to warn Alexis about a Washington encounter. What was