The Kremlin's Candidate: A Novel полностью

Nate poured a glass of water for the general from the pitcher, an act of respect. “My superiors in Moscow charged me with finding a solution to your troubles,” said Nate.

“You are aware of the amount?”

Nate nodded, sucking his teeth as if bored. “What currency is preferable?” said Nate. “Renminbi, euros, dollars?” General Tan blinked. This was too easy. He had expected the Russian would attempt li yong ruo dian, to exploit his vulnerabilities.

“Dollars would serve,” said the general, quietly. The exchange rate with Chinese yuan would net him a small surplus for his own pocket.

“I will communicate your request with the Center,” said Nate, grandly. “We could meet again in, say, thirty days.” The general’s head snapped up. Now comes business, now comes the snaffle bit in the mouth.

“Thirty days!” said General Tan. “That is unacceptable. I mean to say, it is problematic. Time is of the essence in this situation.”

A waiter brought two heaping plates of ayam masak madu, Indonesian red honey chicken, fragrant with curry, ginger, and cinnamon, and two bottles of ice-cold Zhujiang beer. Ignoring the general, Nate/Dolgorukov began eating, mopping up the spicy sauce with a heel of country bread. His plate untouched, General Tan watched Nate, a line of sweat on his upper lip. The waiter hovered, and asked whether there was something wrong with the general’s food. The general snapped in Chinese, telling him to get the hell away from the table. He took a deep breath and fought the inclination to bellow at Nate.

“You see, Comrade, I am concerned that with the passing of time certain irregularities may be discovered. I was led to believe that a speedy resolution of the situation was possible.” General Tan wiped the sweat off his lip. Nate put down his fork.

“A speedy resolution?”

“Yes,” said the general. “My position is somewhat precarious.”

“I understand that,” said Nate. “And I am confident that quick action is possible if I with confidence can assure the Center that a mutually beneficial protocol can be agreed upon.” He was being as ponderous in Russian as he could. Tan’s Russian was basic, at best.

“It can, it can,” said the general. Moment of truth.

“You are currently assigned to the People’s Liberation Army Rocket Forces?”

“Yes,” said General Tan, softly. He knew what was coming.

“There is great interest in Moscow regarding the PLARF,” said Nate. “The disposition of assets, research and development, strategic doctrine. I could go on, but I’m hoping that you can discreetly provide authoritative information, captioned information, on topics of interest to Moscow.”

“That is easily done,” said the general, clearly uncomfortable. “Anticipating such a request, I took the liberty of bringing along a sample.” He took a plastic cartridge out of his inside coat pocket and slid it across the tablecloth to Nate. “This is a magnetic storage tape from the archives, a broad overview of the unit’s operations, leadership, and weapons development programs.” Nate had seen this kind of data storage cartridge before—a sticker along the edge read IBM 3590.

“This is a welcome and farsighted offering,” said Nate, putting the cartridge in his pocket. “Do you need it returned to you?” The general shook his head. “Of course our experts in Moscow will wish to evaluate the information.” Just in case you’re trying to peddle chicken feed, you old rhinoceros.

“I believe your people in Moscow will be pleased with the contents,” said the general. “There is data on weapons storage and management at 22 Base in the Qinling mountain range in Qinghai Province, near the city of Xian.” Jesus Christ, thought Nate, Chinese nuke storage. “But forgive me if I repeat that time is critical.” As if he had heard, Bunty at the far end of the room tapped the face of his wristwatch. They had been in the restaurant for ninety minutes; time to separate.

“Experts in Moscow will immediately review the contents of the tape,” said Nate finishing the last of his beer. “If it is satisfactory, I will indicate as such to our mutual friend and meet you at the pavilion at the north end of this beach tomorrow evening with a roller suitcase that you will find weighs quite a lot. At that time we will discuss the manner in which we continue to meet, the perishable information—not archival—I require, and the substantial salary I will propose to the Center, in addition to this “introductory bonus,” for your continued friendship. Is that satisfactory?” The general nodded, on one hand relieved that he probably would now avoid charges of corruption and malfeasance, but on the other hand swallowing the leaden realization that in the course of a spicy chicken dinner, he had become a traitor to the State.