The Kremlin's Candidate: A Novel полностью

When the call went out for nominees for DCIA, the milk-and-water outgoing secretary of state (who still believed in the code of conduct which held that gentlemen don’t read each other’s mail), proposed the Honorable Thomas Vano for DCIA, citing his business acumen, his foreign experience as a diplomatist, and his attributes as a current Ambassador at Large for Intelligence, with deep ties to, and contacts within, the intelligence community. It was Washington-speak to be sure, and patent nonsense, but Vano made the cut for the final three.

He was tall and bird chested, with a buccaneer’s wavy black hair, limpid pools for eyes, and a Cary Grant cleft on his chin. Benford noted with interest that the sole visible respondent to Vano’s money-Hollywood-sex vibe was EA Division Chief Neff, a known free spirit once referred to by the deputy of the organized crime section in Counternarcotics Division as a habitual receiver of swollen goods. Senator Feigenbaum was too old and mean to care, and Admiral Rowland didn’t move her gold stripes an inch, and seemed oblivious.

God preserve us, thought Benford. A harpy from the Hill intent on destroying the Agency; an awkward physics bluestocking from the navy; and a stuffed-toy millionaire who as ambassador in Madrid thought the Basque terror group’s acronym ETA stood for estimated time of arrival.

Benford had demurred in today’s briefing session, “in the interest of time,” to discuss any Russian cases, and was determined to stall for as long as possible. MAGNIT was still out there, Nash had just reported that the GRU was gunning for DIVA, and all hell was going to pop in Istanbul if they didn’t do something immediately. Istanbul was going to be a disaster.

The WOLVERINEs. In Sevastopol. God help us, I hope they’re as sharp as Forsyth swears they are. The First Cold War ended thirty years ago. We’re fighting the second one now.

RIOJANCAPARRONESSTEW

Fry sliced chorizo and chopped onion and garlic in olive oil until soft. Add pimentón (hot Spanish smoked paprika) and red chili flakes and continue frying. Add chopped fresh tomatoes, water, vegetable stock, canned chopped tomatoes, and tomato paste. Bring to a boil, then simmer covered. Add chopped parsley and white beans (cannellini or navy) and continue simmering until thickened, somewhere between the consistency of a soup and a stew. Let stand an hour (or overnight), and reheat to serve piping hot, with a drizzle of olive oil and a poached egg floating on top.

16

The WOLVERINEs

During the salad days of the Cold War, the breathless arrival in bustling Rome Station of first-tour case officer Tom Forsyth, fresh out of training at the Farm, was greeted variously by colleagues. A number of them helpfully showed Tom around Rome and pointed out the best trattorias for Roman cucina povera, peasant home cooking, and where to find a bottle of Cesanese del Piglio from Lazio. His branch Chief got him on the invitation list for half a dozen national day celebrations at foreign embassies where he could begin trolling for developmentals on his own. The reports chief sat him down and went over the target lists, so he’d know what to look for.

Senior Rome Station officer Gale Stack was fifty-five years old and close to retirement. Earlier in his career he’d had opportunities at management, but it hadn’t worked out due to competing priorities that included three-martini lunches, creative accounting on his ops revolving fund (RF), and chatting up bar hostesses. Stack resented that he’d never been appreciated for what he brought to the mix. He’d been stepped on and stepped over—plenty. The arrival of young Forsyth—they were in adjoining office cubicles—presented an opportunity for Stack to unload a bothersome case encrypted VZWOLVERINE. It was going nowhere, at least not with the amount of effort Stack was willing to put into it. The asset, a young Polish émigré named Witold Zawadzki had volunteered as an embassy walk-in, and Stack had elbowed other officers aside for the case. He thought it would be a gravy train—lots of intel for little work—as well as a nice line item on his RF for charging off lunches and dinners.