Sleeper Spy by William Safire

Author:William Safire [Safire, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-79979-1
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2011-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

NEW YORK

“You’re eating up your advance on these expenses down in Memphis,” Ace told Irving sternly, “and I don’t see a line on paper.”

“Yeah-yeah. Big story takes time.”

“It’s been three months, and the world’s greatest reporter doesn’t seem to have much to show for it.”

“Goddam red mercury threw me off. Turns out there ain’t no such thing, it’s just a cover for piddling little sales of plutonium and enriched uranium. Four hundred grams of enriched Russian uranium went to Iran last month for eighty million bucks. Chicken feed. Wild goose chase.”

“And what of your secret endeavor in Memphis?”

“Mike Shu thinks he’s on the edge of something, but he’s been saying that from the start.”

“Viveca?” Ace had not heard from her, which was uncharacteristic.

“She’s banging some guy down there who works with us. Practically commutes between here and there.”

Ace nodded; the green-eyed monster was probably the main reason Irving was distracted. “Is there any way of dispensing with her—” the agent rejected “boyfriend” as puerile and “companion” as euphemistic—“inamorata, so the two of you can work without emotional distraction?”

“Nah. I got somebody coming over next week from Latvia, maybe flush out some action from the sleeper. She says she’s bringing along an even bigger fish, your friend Davidov from Moscow. That should stir the pot.”

Too many metaphors, from flushing to fishing to stirring; Irving was not a classy writer, nor was his partner in this endeavor. The expectation of the visit to New York of a high KGB official, however, triggered a creative synapse in the agent’s mind.

“I should be pleased to give one of my legendary little dinner parties for Director Davidov, Irving. Perhaps he has a few properties now that he was reluctant to part with before.”

Fein was not a social being, but the agent’s notion of using an elegant Park Avenue dinner party to commingle disparate sources intrigued him. “Let me check around before you invite anybody. A friend of mine may have an idea for a guest or two.”

Ace presumed Irving would seek a suggestion from his sources within the cloak-and-dagger world. “Be highly selective,” the experienced host cautioned. “My parties are for twelve—never more, never less.”

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