The Spy in Question by Tim Sebastian

Author:Tim Sebastian
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
Published: 2021-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

The North Koreans bowed their way out of the reception hall. To Kalyagin it seemed that they had spent the whole day bowing. They were the third fraternal delegation in as many days, the third fraternal cocktail party, with not a vodka bottle in sight and only a sprinkling of Georgian white wine to stave off complete sobriety.

The members of the Politburo looked around them and gave a collective sigh of relief. Next week, at least, it would be the French, and with them you could be as rude as you liked. No one would feel the need to pretend they were on the same side. They could have a proper row, hurl a few insults and recriminations, go through the ritual bash on human rights, and enjoy themselves. Kalyagin was starting to indulge the cynicism that went with the power.

He had tried to avoid Afanasyev but the man took his arm and led him down a corridor. He waited until they were alone. Kalyagin felt no guilt about the minister’s wife – no remorse. He knew Afanasyev was about to seek payment.

“Perhaps you have thought a little more about our last conversation?” The older man leaned forward.

“I’m not sure that I fully understood it, Comrade.”

“What is this ‘comrade’?” demanded Afanasyev sharply. “Yesterday we were sipping wine together. And now it is ‘comrade.’ Why so formal, my friend? Something troubling you, something upsetting you?”

They fell silent for a moment as an orderly passed them, a tray of files in his hands.

“You would do well to listen to me my ‘comrade,’” whispered Afanasyev mockingly. “My office in half an hour. Be there.” He shambled off. Kalyagin stayed where he was, watching till he was out of sight.

The outer office was empty. It was after six. Kalyagin felt sure the staff had been dismissed well in advance. For as he pushed open the door to the inner sanctum, he caught the unmistakable smell of alcohol. Afanasyev held a glass, three quarters full of colourless liquid. It wasn’t water.

“Come in, Comrade. Shut the door. Over here, over here.” Afanasyev beckoned him to a small sofa in the corner. He pulled another chair from the opposite wall and sat down beside him.

“You will forgive me, Dmitry Ivanovich. I was perhaps a little sharp with you back there.” He smiled affably. “Have a chocolate.” He groped for a box on the cocktail table beside them. “Go on, take one, take one. They’re Belgian. That’s better.” He paused. “By the way, my wife sends greetings.”

Kalyagin took a chocolate but said nothing. At least it was all out in the open.

“I asked you here, my friend, because we can speak frankly. No one is listening. No one can overhear us. I made sure that the relevant experts took precautions. We in the Army have our resources, as I’m sure you know.”

Nearly there, thought Kalyagin. He can’t take forever.

“And so,” Afanasyev continued, “I am in a position to render you certain favours, that is if you will render me some in advance.

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