one o’clock in the morning. Seventy-two more hours. The waiting was almost unbearable.
Restlessly, he rose from his desk. It was late, and he should try to get some sleep in the next room. Yet, he knew that his mind was too awake to let him sleep easily. His mind brimmed with the events of those three years. It had been, actually, a secret college he had set up, a college with a three-year course, one major subject, one student. The major subject had been Billie Bradford. The entire student body had been Vera Vavilova. Now, with graduation in sight, with the real world directly ahead, Petrov had a sudden urge to see the dean of the school. Alex Razin, alone, would know whether his student was ready for the real world. Petrov needed reinforcement, reassurance, that no area had been overlooked, that the graduate could cope. He wondered if Razin, a night person like himself, was still in his office.
Upstairs, on the fourth floor, in his monastic KGB office -shaded ceiling fixtures, pale green walls, bare parquet floor Alex Razin held the scuffed brown leather briefcase straight on a corner of his crowded desk and stuffed red-lined beige file folders into it. He had told Vera that he might be late and it was late - but she had insisted that she would remain awake for him. Now,‘preparing to leave his work to spend
the night with her their last together for three weeks he saw one of his hands tremble.
Tension clung to him unrelieved. While he had prepared this dangerous enterprise under Petrov, with many others, the sole responsibility for perfection had been totally his own. On the human level, he, more than anyone else involved, had everything at stake. His student, the pawn in this super espionage endeavour, was not merely an agent but the one person he cherished and loved more than any other on earth. This realization had made his job doubly difficult. Vera’s performance must be flawless, her immediate future safe, not only to achieve a cold war victory but to preserve her precious being for himself and themselves. The responsibility filled him with a chill of terror.
When the knock on the door came, and General Petrov unexpectedly appeared with the request that he wanted to review certain aspects of Vera’s training phase one last time, Razin felt a gust of relief. Although eager to enjoy the warmth of Vera’s body before she was taken from him, he was relieved to have the excuse to examine their handiwork one more time. Like Petrov, he wanted to be certain, beyond all certainty, that every possible surprise had been anticipated. He did not mind being even later for Vera. If she fell asleep, he could awaken her and know that because of his vigilance she would be safer.
‘I hope you are not too tired?’ Petrov added, settling into the chair across from his deputy’s desk.
‘Not for this,’ said Razin. ‘I hoped for some reason to review our preparations just one more time. We cannot be too cautious. It just has to be absolutely foolproof.’
As Razin started for his file cabinet, Petrov said, ‘Oh, it is foolproof, I am positive of that. I don’t know why I want to do it again. Maybe I just want to indulge myself, have pleasure in a job well done - before she is out of our hands.’
Out of our hands. Petrov’s last words sent another alarm through Razin. He opened the cabinet drawer, dug deep inside, and lifted out the file of three thick folders on Project Second Lady.
He brought them back to the desk, and lay them before Petrov. ‘Everything is here,’ Razin said. ‘You will find a copy of every memorandum, progress sheet, note on what we had to do to, what we did, covering every week’s activities from the day Kirechenko gave us the go-ahead and the special fund.’
Petrov took the bulging top folder and opened it on his lap. ‘Let me just skim through this, the highlights. It won’t be long. Do you have a drink?’
‘Yes. But no ice.’
‘Ice only dilutes it.’ While Razin
Restlessly, he rose from his desk. It was late, and he should try to get some sleep in the next room. Yet, he knew that his mind was too awake to let him sleep easily. His mind brimmed with the events of those three years. It had been, actually, a secret college he had set up, a college with a three-year course, one major subject, one student. The major subject had been Billie Bradford. The entire student body had been Vera Vavilova. Now, with graduation in sight, with the real world directly ahead, Petrov had a sudden urge to see the dean of the school. Alex Razin, alone, would know whether his student was ready for the real world. Petrov needed reinforcement, reassurance, that no area had been overlooked, that the graduate could cope. He wondered if Razin, a night person like himself, was still in his office.
Upstairs, on the fourth floor, in his monastic KGB office -shaded ceiling fixtures, pale green walls, bare parquet floor Alex Razin held the scuffed brown leather briefcase straight on a corner of his crowded desk and stuffed red-lined beige file folders into it. He had told Vera that he might be late and it was late - but she had insisted that she would remain awake for him. Now,‘preparing to leave his work to spend
the night with her their last together for three weeks he saw one of his hands tremble.
Tension clung to him unrelieved. While he had prepared this dangerous enterprise under Petrov, with many others, the sole responsibility for perfection had been totally his own. On the human level, he, more than anyone else involved, had everything at stake. His student, the pawn in this super espionage endeavour, was not merely an agent but the one person he cherished and loved more than any other on earth. This realization had made his job doubly difficult. Vera’s performance must be flawless, her immediate future safe, not only to achieve a cold war victory but to preserve her precious being for himself and themselves. The responsibility filled him with a chill of terror.
When the knock on the door came, and General Petrov unexpectedly appeared with the request that he wanted to review certain aspects of Vera’s training phase one last time, Razin felt a gust of relief. Although eager to enjoy the warmth of Vera’s body before she was taken from him, he was relieved to have the excuse to examine their handiwork one more time. Like Petrov, he wanted to be certain, beyond all certainty, that every possible surprise had been anticipated. He did not mind being even later for Vera. If she fell asleep, he could awaken her and know that because of his vigilance she would be safer.
‘I hope you are not too tired?’ Petrov added, settling into the chair across from his deputy’s desk.
‘Not for this,’ said Razin. ‘I hoped for some reason to review our preparations just one more time. We cannot be too cautious. It just has to be absolutely foolproof.’
As Razin started for his file cabinet, Petrov said, ‘Oh, it is foolproof, I am positive of that. I don’t know why I want to do it again. Maybe I just want to indulge myself, have pleasure in a job well done - before she is out of our hands.’
Out of our hands. Petrov’s last words sent another alarm through Razin. He opened the cabinet drawer, dug deep inside, and lifted out the file of three thick folders on Project Second Lady.
He brought them back to the desk, and lay them before Petrov. ‘Everything is here,’ Razin said. ‘You will find a copy of every memorandum, progress sheet, note on what we had to do to, what we did, covering every week’s activities from the day Kirechenko gave us the go-ahead and the special fund.’
Petrov took the bulging top folder and opened it on his lap. ‘Let me just skim through this, the highlights. It won’t be long. Do you have a drink?’
‘Yes. But no ice.’
‘Ice only dilutes it.’ While Razin
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