“I worshiped them, Adam. I respected them. I revered them. Now, for years, I have lived close to them all. I have lived in their shadow, taken their gifts, been showered with their privileges. I have seen them close up, in private; heard them talk about the people, whom they despise. They are rotten, Adam, corrupt and cruel. Everything they touch they turn to ashes.”
Munro swung one leg across the tombstone so he could face her, and took her in his arms. She was crying softly.
“I can’t go on, Adam, I can’t go on,” she murmured into his shoulder.
“All right, my darling, do you want me to try to get you out?”
He knew it would cost him his career, but this time he was not going to let her go. It would be worth it; everything would be worth it.
She pulled away, her face tear-streaked.
“I cannot. I cannot leave. I have Sasha to think about.”
He held her quietly for a while longer. His mind was racing.
“How did you know I was in Moscow?” he asked carefully.
She gave no hint of surprise at the question. It was in any case natural enough for him to ask it.
“Last month,” she said between sniffs, “I was taken to the ballet by a colleague from the office. We were in a box. When the lights were low, I thought I must be mistaken. But when they went up at intermission, I knew it was really you. I could not stay after that. I pleaded a headache and left quickly.”
She dabbed her eyes, the crying spell over.
“Adam,” she asked eventually, “did you marry?”
“Yes,” he said. “Long after Berlin. It didn’t work. We were divorced years ago.”
She managed a little smile. “I’m glad,” she said. “I’m glad there is no one else. That is not very logical, is it?”
He grinned back at her.
“No,” he said. “It is not. But it is nice to hear. Can we see each other? In the future?”
Her smile faded; there was a hunted look in her eyes. She shook her dark head.
“No, not very often, Adam,” she said. “I am trusted, privileged, but if a foreigner came to my apartment, it would soon be noticed and reported on. The same applies to your apartment. Diplomats are watched—you know that. Hotels are watched also; no apartments are for rent here without impossible formalities. It will be difficult, Adam, very difficult.”
“Valentina, you arranged this meeting. You took the initiative. Was it just for old times’ sake? If you do not like your life here, if you do not like the men you work for ... But if you cannot leave because of Sasha, then what is it you want?”
She composed herself and thought for a while. When she spoke, it was quite calmly.
“Adam, I want to try to stop them. I want to try to stop what they are doing. I suppose I have for several years now, but since I saw you at the Bolshoi, and remembered all the freedom we had in Berlin, I began thinking about it more and more. Now I am certain. Tell me if you can—is there an intelligence officer in your embassy?”
Munro was shaken. He had handled two defectors-in-place, one from the Soviet Embassy in Mexico City, the other in Vienna. One had been motivated by a conversion from respect to hatred for his own regime, like Valentina; the other by bitterness at lack of promotion. The former had been the trickier to handle.
“I suppose so,” he said slowly. “I suppose there must be.”
Valentina rummaged in the shoulder bag on the pine needles by her feet. Having made up her mind, she was apparently determined to go through with her betrayal. She withdrew a thick, padded envelope.
“I want you to give this to him, Adam. Promise me you will never tell him who it came from. Please, Adam. I am frightened by what I am doing. I cannot trust anyone but you.”
“I promise,” he said. “But I have to see you again. I can’t Just see you walk away through the gap in the wall as I did last time.”
“No, I cannot do that again, either. But do not try to contact me at my apartment. It is in a walled compound for senior functionaries, with a single gate in the wall and a policeman at it. Do not try to telephone me. The calls are monitored. And I will never meet anyone else from your embassy, not even the intelligence chief.”
“I agree,” said Munro. “But when can we meet again?”
She considered for a moment. “It is not always easy for me to get away. Sasha takes up most of my spare time. But I have my own car and I am not followed. Tomorrow I must go away for two weeks, but we can meet here, four Sundays from today.” She looked at her watch. “I must go, Adam. I am one of a house party at a dacha a few miles from here.”