grape skins. After wiping his mouth with the corner of his napkin, he said, “SVR is Russia’s
foreign
security service. Things are going relatively well in foreign environs at the moment. The FSB, internal security, is the organization presiding over the current catastrophe, both in Russia and in the nations adjacent to Russia.”
Haldane said, “You’ll excuse me for not making the immediate distinction between FSB and SVR. To an old hand like me, it is all still the KGB.”
Biryukov smiled. “And to an older hand, we would all be Chekists.”
Haldane chuckled. “Quite so, but that one is even before my time, old boy.”
Biryukov held his glass up to the candlelight; he regarded the deep golden color of the liquid before carefully choosing his next words. “As a foreigner you might not know it, but FSB has authority not just over Russia but also over the other nations in the Commonwealth of Independent States, even though our neighbors are sovereign nations. We refer to the border nations as ‘the near abroad.’”
Haldane cocked his head. He pretended not to know it, and Biryukov pretended he believed Haldane’s lie. The Russian added, “It can get a bit confusing, I will allow.”
Haldane said, “There is something off about Russian internal security operating in its former republics. Almost as if someone forgot to tell the spies that the Soviet Union is no more.”
Biryukov did not reply.
Haldane knew the SVR director had some objective by inviting him out for drinks tonight, but for now the Russian was playing his cards close to his vest. Every comment was calculated. The Englishman tried to draw him out. “Does it feel like they are operating on your turf?”
Biryukov laughed aloud. “FSB is welcome to those nations. My work in Paris and Tokyo and Toronto is a delight compared to what they have to do in Grozny and Almaty and Minsk. These are ugly days for our sister service.”
“Might I infer that is what you wanted to talk to me about?”
Biryukov answered the question with a question of his own: “How long have we known each other, Tony?”
“Since the late eighties. You were stationed at the Soviet embassy in London, as a cultural attaché, and I was with the Foreign Office.”
Biryukov corrected him on both counts. “I was KGB and you were British intelligence.”
Haldane looked like he was going to protest, but only for a moment. “Would there be any point in me denying it?”
The Russian said, “We were children back then, weren’t we?”
“Indeed we were, old chap.”
Biryukov leaned in a little closer. “I mean to cause you no consternation, my friend, but I know you retain a relationship with your government.”
“I am one of Her Majesty’s loyal subjects, if that is what you mean to say.”
“
Nyet.
That is
not
what I mean to say.”
Haldane’s eyebrows rose. “Is the director of Russian foreign intelligence accusing me of being a foreign spy in the capital of Russia?”
Biryukov leaned back from the table. “No need to be dramatic. It is quite natural that you have kept up old friendships in MI6. A little back-and-forth between a well-connected businessman like yourself and your nation’s spy shop is nothing at all but smart business practice for both parties.”
So
that
is the game,
Haldane thought, with some relief. Stan wanted to reach out to British intelligence using his old friend as a cutout.
It makes sense,
Haldane thought, as he drained his glass. It would not do for the head of SVR to pop around to the British embassy for a chat.
Haldane said, “I have some friends well positioned within MI6, yes, but please, don’t give me too much credit. I have been out of the service for a long time. I can pass along any message you want me to convey, but the clearer you can make things for me, the less chance I will have of mucking the whole thing up.”
Biryukov poured both men another snifter of
chacha
. “Very well. I will make things very clear. I
foreign
security service. Things are going relatively well in foreign environs at the moment. The FSB, internal security, is the organization presiding over the current catastrophe, both in Russia and in the nations adjacent to Russia.”
Haldane said, “You’ll excuse me for not making the immediate distinction between FSB and SVR. To an old hand like me, it is all still the KGB.”
Biryukov smiled. “And to an older hand, we would all be Chekists.”
Haldane chuckled. “Quite so, but that one is even before my time, old boy.”
Biryukov held his glass up to the candlelight; he regarded the deep golden color of the liquid before carefully choosing his next words. “As a foreigner you might not know it, but FSB has authority not just over Russia but also over the other nations in the Commonwealth of Independent States, even though our neighbors are sovereign nations. We refer to the border nations as ‘the near abroad.’”
Haldane cocked his head. He pretended not to know it, and Biryukov pretended he believed Haldane’s lie. The Russian added, “It can get a bit confusing, I will allow.”
Haldane said, “There is something off about Russian internal security operating in its former republics. Almost as if someone forgot to tell the spies that the Soviet Union is no more.”
Biryukov did not reply.
Haldane knew the SVR director had some objective by inviting him out for drinks tonight, but for now the Russian was playing his cards close to his vest. Every comment was calculated. The Englishman tried to draw him out. “Does it feel like they are operating on your turf?”
Biryukov laughed aloud. “FSB is welcome to those nations. My work in Paris and Tokyo and Toronto is a delight compared to what they have to do in Grozny and Almaty and Minsk. These are ugly days for our sister service.”
“Might I infer that is what you wanted to talk to me about?”
Biryukov answered the question with a question of his own: “How long have we known each other, Tony?”
“Since the late eighties. You were stationed at the Soviet embassy in London, as a cultural attaché, and I was with the Foreign Office.”
Biryukov corrected him on both counts. “I was KGB and you were British intelligence.”
Haldane looked like he was going to protest, but only for a moment. “Would there be any point in me denying it?”
The Russian said, “We were children back then, weren’t we?”
“Indeed we were, old chap.”
Biryukov leaned in a little closer. “I mean to cause you no consternation, my friend, but I know you retain a relationship with your government.”
“I am one of Her Majesty’s loyal subjects, if that is what you mean to say.”
“
Nyet.
That is
not
what I mean to say.”
Haldane’s eyebrows rose. “Is the director of Russian foreign intelligence accusing me of being a foreign spy in the capital of Russia?”
Biryukov leaned back from the table. “No need to be dramatic. It is quite natural that you have kept up old friendships in MI6. A little back-and-forth between a well-connected businessman like yourself and your nation’s spy shop is nothing at all but smart business practice for both parties.”
So
that
is the game,
Haldane thought, with some relief. Stan wanted to reach out to British intelligence using his old friend as a cutout.
It makes sense,
Haldane thought, as he drained his glass. It would not do for the head of SVR to pop around to the British embassy for a chat.
Haldane said, “I have some friends well positioned within MI6, yes, but please, don’t give me too much credit. I have been out of the service for a long time. I can pass along any message you want me to convey, but the clearer you can make things for me, the less chance I will have of mucking the whole thing up.”
Biryukov poured both men another snifter of
chacha
. “Very well. I will make things very clear. I
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