Same Day

Marcus Greene, impeccably tailored, took out a cigarette and sat down as though this was his home. He said:

—You seem nervous.

Leo didn’t reply. He disliked the casual disregard with which they broke into his apartment or bugged his phone, and the way in which they searched his belongings when he was out, something that he was aware of since they failed to put items back into the correct position. But he was under no illusion that he belonged to the Americans, a piece of intellectual property, and they would behave exactly as they pleased. It was almost comical that Greene would then ask:

—May I smoke?

Leo nodded, taking off his coat, hanging it in the hall. Returning to the living room he stood opposite Greene.

—Why aren’t you in Pakistan?

—I’m on leave, visiting my family.

Greene sucked deeply on his cigarette, with the loving intensity known only to an addict. Leo took a seat opposite, leaning forward, hands on his knees. Greene remarked without self-pity:

—I have not been a good father. I regret my shortcomings, I suppose. But I haven’t done much about them, so I’m not sure what that regret is worth, at least not in the eyes of my wife and my sons. I tell you this because it is part of the reason I’m here. I know how much your family matters to you, not just the family you brought to New York, but also the family you left behind in the Soviet Union.

Leo asked, his voice strangled with tension:

—What’s happened?

—The Soviets suspect that you’re alive. We thought that killing the captain might mean your existence would be unconfirmed. Perhaps it is. However, they’re testing the water. While I was in Peshawar, they made sure that we became aware of certain pieces of information regarding your daughters. Zoya and Elena…

Leo stood up, as if ready to leave immediately. Greene gestured for him to sit down. He ignored the gesture and in the end Greene stood up too.

—We have no means of verifying these rumours. They might be lies intended to flush you out. There was pressure on me not to reveal them to you but I was sure you’d want to know. It’s your decision whether you believe the stories or not.

—What stories?

—Because of your defection your daughters have been taken in for questioning. Their husbands have also been interrogated. They have been released, but their futures are unce of cin. The next step would be for them to be arrested. That hasn’t happened yet, but it could. It is bait, crude, but I can see from your expression, effective.

—If I don’t return, they will arrest them? That’s the threat?

—Leo, we have no way of knowing if this is just a play. They can’t be sure you’re alive.

—Do they have an American source?

—I don’t believe that’s likely. The Soviets have never been very effective at penetrating the CIA. If you do nothing, if you don’t react, they will presume you to be dead and nothing will happen to your daughters. I’m sure of that.

But Leo knew better how the KGB functioned: he knew their mindset. He remembered how he would have behaved as an ambitious young agent. Shaking his head, feeling sick with fear at the danger he’d put his daughters in, he said:

—I don’t have much time.