“Carolina can arrange that. It would help if you took time to grieve and reflect, but I’m sure there will be time for that later.”
Nikolai couldn’t stop the tears but had a message to share. A nagging thought demanded confession to his brother-in-law. “Maxim. I must tell you this. The KGB might think I’m spying for the Brits and—”
Maxim’s eyes widened, and he jumped on it. “Then you are a threat! KGB killed Yulia. I have no doubt. They are silencing you forever. They have left your daughter, but she would be next.”
“That means I got Yulia killed because they distrust me!”
“I have no doubt. Please don’t talk to anyone until I check with some contacts. Hear me?”
“I hear you. My lips are sealed.”
“Good man. Now have another drink, then read to Sasha. Tell her slowly. She’s young and won’t understand. She’ll cry for her mamochka for some days.”
Then Maxim was off, and Nikolai was left alone with his growing self-recriminations for getting Yulia killed.
He had another drink, but it was half-full when he tossed it out. He retrieved Sasha from next door and brought her inside. He placed two fingers inside the diaper and found it was wet, so he changed her diaper then read her Dr. Seuss in Russian. He put her to bed early, found the teddy bear, and tucked it in with her.
He went into the living room, watched the news on TV, then slipped into bed. He moved to Yulia’s side and buried his face in her pillow. He smelled her and remembered how clean she always smelled. Of all things to remember.
He climbed in bed at midnight and slept two hours, but was up the rest of the night, berating himself for causing Yulia’s death. On the one hand, he was raging at whoever had murdered his beautiful wife, but he sobbed and vowed revenge on the other. At last, at five a.m., he fell asleep sitting up in the living room chair until six when Sasha woke him with her crying.
16
That morning, he dressed in his uniform and took Sasha to Carolina for the day. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she gave him a silent hug. Then, “Niky. I’m so sorry.”
He called at noon. Sasha wanted her mamochka. She wouldn’t stop crying. But meanwhile, Nikolai had to deal with the KGB.
He went into the office for his lie detector test. It was administered in the building's basement with only the polygraph operator present, seated behind Nikolai while the questions were asked and answered.
“Did you murder your wife?”
“No.”
“Did you pay to have your wife murdered?”
“No.”
“Did you want her dead?”
“Never!”
“Yes or no, please. Did you want her dead?”
“No.”
“Have you received money you’re not entitled to?”
“No.”
“Are you spying for a foreign government?”
“No.”
“Let me ask that again. Do you work for a foreign government?”
“No.”
“Are you giving secrets to a foreign government?”
“No.”
“Are you spying for a foreign government?”
“No.”
Thirty minutes later, they were finished.
“How did I do?”
“Flying colors. No problems.”
“I’m cleared?”
“You’re cleared.”
“May I see the strip?”
“No, you may not.”
Five minutes later, the polygraph examiner was meeting with Anatoly Anchev.
“Colonel Semenov failed the test.”
“Which part?” said the rezident, looking shocked. “He murdered his wife?”
“No, I ask baseline questions to make sure the apparatus is working properly. I asked if he was spying for a foreign government. He said ‘no,’ but it was recorded as a lie. Your man may be a spy.”
Anchev’s eyebrows arched. He thanked the examiner and sent him on his way with the admonition that all results were top secret. “If word gets out about them, I’ll be coming after you,” Anchev told the man, who was white-faced at that.
“Yes, sir. Lock and key.”
Anchev cabled Moscow. “We may have a mole in our station. Permission requested to follow and turn him against the British if it plays out.”
One hour later, Moscow Center replied. Permission granted. Indisputable evidence requested. Double surveillance. Transcribe all bugs and forward to Moscow Center. That is all.
17
Nikolai knew he had failed the polygraph question about spying. He called an emergency meeting at the safe house.
“Is there a plan to escape from Moscow yet?” Nikolai asked Bolling once they were both there. “In case I am kidnapped back to Moscow?”
“We have several ways to escape from the Soviet Union. It is always necessary to be thinking that way, ULYSSES,” Bolling said.
“ULYSSES?”
“Your code name. For our work together.”
“James Joyce? His book?”
“One of your favorites.”
“What don’t you know about me?”
A subtle smile. “We have yet to find that out.”
“What of our work together? Should we quit while the investigation about my wife is proceeding?”
Bolling wasn’t ready for that. “Let’s think this through together. MI5’s own KGB officers have said nothing about a spy. There’s no mole hunt, and the KGB did not kill Yulia. Someone unknown killed her. She knew something, and someone silenced her. That someone needs to be found. Maybe KGB will find him. Maybe the London police will find him. And that’s good. But we cannot let it interfere with our work.”
Nikolai was sitting with his arms crossed on the kitchen table, deep in thought. “You’re right. KGB didn’t kill her. My guilt cannot be trusted.”
“Good. Can we talk now?”
“We can.”
“Here’s what we need. MI5 needs clarification on KGB’s London station. We need to know who the actual diplomats are and who the intelligence officers are. We need names and assignments as well. Even better if we had the names of spies being run by KGB London station, especially those who have penetrated MI5.”
“We’ve been over all that, Franklin.”
Bolling nodded. “We have, but it’s always changing.”
“I can help with the first part, the names of intelligence officers and assignments. In the second part, the spies who have penetrated MI5, I have never seen a list. I will investigate. I will do what I can.”
“Excellent. And what about KGB Moscow itself? We’d like a chart of the directorates and directors and deputies.”
“I have that already,” Nikolai said, touching the side of his head. “I have it up here.”
“Great and, Nikolai, let’s not quit just yet. There is so much you can help us with. We will make a plan for your escape. It will be a good plan, I promise.”
“What more can I turn over?”
“What about the documents you’re dealing with? We want everything that crosses your desk. A spy camera? We can offer that.”