Donovan nodded. "I get that. But all you can do at this point is to return to your normal duties. If you don't, if you go into hiding or don't show up, it calls attention to you."
"Chert!” Nikolai muttered.
"I understand your terror," Donovan said. "I would be terrified, too. Especially if it was jeopardizing you and Sasha."
Bolling broke in. "The poor man has suffered enough. It's time to take action. Not only that, but we also cannot afford to have Nikolai outed. He's the most valuable resource we have on the planet just now. Please don't lose him."
So Donovan took action.
On a pretense, Ziegler was called into Counterintelligence for a discussion about an alleged spy. That perked him up, and he shaved and wore his best suit. Instead of being taken into a new team, however, on his arrival, he was taken to a top floor office and the evidence against him laid out by Donovan—a man whom Ziegler knew and feared. Donovan and his team presented a photograph of Anchev's front door with Ziegler blocking the mailbox with his body. Then they produced a picture taken at the Coach House, Ziegler and Anchev in deep conversation.
"See? We know you were passing documents to Anchev. We know you met with him. It's time to confess and let us help put all this behind you."
But Ziegler played it cool and didn't collapse. He said, "Tell me how I can help nail this bastard, Anchev. Your photograph is the night I was feeding him a phony list. He thought he had recruited me."
The interrogators shared a look. He was wily; they learned that out of the gate.
"We also know you passed him a list of the officers who turned the spies we expelled. That wasn't a phony list."
"Harmless. Chicken feed. It escapes me, but I believe I thought their names were even in the newspapers."
"Come now. You know their names wouldn't be released. You can't really expect us to believe that."
Bugs relayed the conversation to the electronics room one floor down, where MI5 and MI6 officers listened intently, almost without breathing, taking in every word. It was a dangerous time, not only for Nikolai but also for the entire world, with Khrushchev unloading his Operation Anadyr matériel and men almost daily on Cuban shores. Nikolai absolutely could not be lost for what else he might bring across as Soviet intelligence, including war plans. The Brits already knew the plans had changed and changed again since Oleg Penkovsky had come over. New plans were in place. The West was counting on Nikolai Semenov to deliver them. Running Ziegler to the ground and extracting his confession was magnitudes bigger than where it had begun.
It continued all night. In the morning, Ziegler was offered breakfast, still seated at the table where he had sat most of the night, refusing all questions. His resolve seemed unbreakable. Then he dozed, sitting up, for thirty minutes until someone slammed a book on the table, startling him awake. It took several minutes to get his bearings. Then he asked, "Am I under arrest? If I'm not under arrest, I'd like a ride home to bathe."
The interrogators looked at each other. Donovan fielded it. "No, you're not under arrest. We're still investigating."
"The pictures aren't conclusive, are they?" Ziegler said with a smile. He had them, and he knew it.
"We're looking to you for the truth," Donovan replied. "This case has become about more than you and the KGB. There are international implications involving the Soviets and the Americans. Your treatment by the Crown would be greatly remediated were you to cooperate."
"Nonsense. I want to go home. Who's driving?"
He wasn't driven home at all. He was told he was relieved of all duties and to stay away from River House until he heard from MI5. He acknowledged and headed for the door. "Ta." He turned and waved at the door. "See you around the corner." He made a finger pistol, fired it at Donovan, and blew away the smoke.
Then he was gone.
Nikolai demanded a meeting with the ULYSSES team after the interrogation. Donovan and Bolling accommodated him that night at the safe house. He had dry-cleaned his way there for thirty minutes, he said, as the watchers had been very sticky.
"What about Ziegler?" he demanded.
The British officers knew the score. He was worked up and had every right. Lives were counting on MI5 to neutralize the spy.
Donovan answered, "We had to let him go."
Nikolai cried, "What? You have a picture of him with Anchev! What more is there?"
"He said Anchev recruited him and he was passing chickenfeed. It was the smartest thing he's said in years. That's my guess," Franklin Bolling offered. "It raises a serious question of fact for any court. Was he or wasn't he? We wanted his confession and failed to get it."
"Answer me this, then," Nikolai said, fighting to control his anger, "Is he Lana?"
"Absolutely," Donovan said immediately.
"One-hundred-percent," Bolling replied. "There is no doubt."
Nikolai sat back against his chair. "So, what happens next?"
"That's the not-so-good part," Donovan said. "We've let you down. Our hands are tied until he makes another move. Fear not, we have eyes around the clock. He's not going anywhere."
"But how do you get close enough to an Anchev meeting to hear what's said? It seems to me he always gets to claim he was recruiting. Recruiting, hell!"
"We know, Nikolai," Donovan said in a quiet voice, trying to calm him. "And we're damn sorry it went south on us."
"So, that's it?"
"For now."
"Until he identifies me to Anchev. At which point, I die, and Ziegler—nothing happens to Ziegler because, again, you have no proof?"
Donovan and Bolling stared at the tabletop.
"Not so good, gentlemen. Unacceptable."
The meeting broke up. Nikolai walked outside and looked up at the stars. He remembered counting stars when he was young. How simple that time had been when no one was creeping up from behind. Now, the entire world had to be watched. He had complicated his own life, especially now, with Robert John Ziegler, who was two words away from Nikolai's instant death. Sasha and his mother, too. It was the price Masirov back in Moscow would extract.
He had but one choice.
And time had run out.
He must act.
35
Nikolai had a new target that interrupted his days at the Russian Embassy in London. To anyone at the KGB station who might be watching, he was doing KGB work, but he was, in fact, on the trail of Robert John Ziegler.
Through some finagling with Bolling, he obtained a full-face photograph. An ugly little man, so plain looking, yet so dangerous to Nikolai.
Once he had the photograph, he had the man. But it took weeks of surveillance because Ziegler was now persona non grata at River House. Then, one day in October, he appeared as he stepped off a double-decker bus in front of the spy house and hurried inside. Nikolai closed in, became invisible, and waited for him to finish his business upstairs and re-emerge.
Which took less than one hour. Later, Nikolai would hear from Bolling that Ziegler had voluntarily come into MI5 for a second interrogation, which was non-productive, so he was again allowed to walk.
Nikolai picked up his trail outside at the bus stop. He slid in behind him, posing as just another passenger. But other passengers most likely did not have a coil of picture-hanging wire in their pocket.