Lee asked, 'And then what?'
'Eventually I received news from Susan. She said she had arrived at some preliminary conclusions. I suggested we meet here in New York, almost as a way to consummate our friendship. You know, dinner and maybe a show. As a way of saying thank you for her efforts, certainly. But she never arrived.'
I asked, 'What time were you expecting her?'
'About ten o'clock. She said she would leave after work.'
'Too late for dinner and a show.'
'She planned to stay over. I booked a room for her.'
'When did you get here?'
'Three days ago.'
'How?'
'British Airways from London.'
I said, 'You hired a local crew.' Lila Hoth nodded.
I asked, 'When?'
'Just before we got here.'
'Why?'
'It's expected,' she said. 'And sometimes useful.'
'Where did you find them?'
'They advertise. In the Moscow papers, and in the expatriate papers in London. It's good business for them, and it's a kind of status check for us. If you go overseas unassisted, you look weak. And it's better not to do that.'
'They told me you brought a crew of your own.'
She looked surprised.
'I don't have a crew of my own,' she said. 'Why on earth would they say that? I don't understand it.'
'They said you brought a bunch of scary types.'
For a second she looked mystified and a little annoyed. Then some kind of comprehension dawned in her face. She seemed to be a fast analyst. She said, 'Perhaps they were inventive, strategically. When Susan didn't arrive, I sent them out looking. I thought, I'm paying them, they might as well do some work. And my mother has a lot of hope invested in this business. So I didn't want to come all this way, and then fail at the last minute. So I offered them a bonus. We grow up believing that money talks loudest, in America. So perhaps those men were making up a story for you. Perhaps they were inventing a scary alternative. To make sure they got their extra money. So that you would be tempted to talk to them.'
I said nothing.
Then something else dawned in her face. Some new realization. She said, 'I have no crew, as you call it. Just one man. Leonid, one of my husband's old team. He couldn't get a new job. He's a bit of a lame duck, I'm afraid. So I kept him on. Right now he's at Penn Station. He's waiting for you. The police told me that the witness had gone to Washington. I assumed you would take the train, and come back the same way. Did you not?'
I said, 'Yes, I came back on the train.'
'Then Leonid must have missed you. He had your picture. He was supposed to ask you to telephone me. Poor man, he must still be there.'
She stood up and headed for the credenza. For the room phone. Which gave me a temporary tactical problem. Because Leonid's cell was in my pocket.
THIRTY-ONE
IN PRINCIPLE I KNOW HOW TO TURN OFF A CELL PHONE. I HAVE seen it done, and I have done it myself on more than one occasion. On most models you hold down the red button for two long seconds. But the phone was in my pocket. No room to open it, and no chance of finding the red button by feel alone. Too suspicious to take it out and turn it off in full view of everyone.
Lila Hoth hit nine for a line and dialled.
I put my hand in my pocket and used my thumbnail and found the catch and unlatched the battery. Separated it from the phone and turned it sideways to avoid any chance of accidental electrical contact.
Lila Hoth waited, and then she sighed and hung up.
'He's hopeless,' she said. 'But very loyal.'
I tried to track Leonid's likely progress in my head. Cops, paramedics, probably an obligatory trip to the St Vincent's emergency room, no ID, possibly no English, maybe worries and questions and detention. Then the trip back uptown.
How long of a detention, I didn't know.
How fast of a trip, I couldn't predict.
I said, 'The local crew mentioned John Sansom's name.'
Lila Hoth sighed again and shook her head in a tiny display of exasperation. She said, 'I briefed them when we arrived, obviously. I told them the story. And we all got along quite well. I think all of us felt that we were wasting our time, humouring my mother. We shared jokes about it, frankly. One of the men was reading the newspaper about Sansom. He said, here's an American soldier called John, of roughly the right vintage. He said, maybe Sansom is the guy you're looking for. For a day or two it became a kind of catchphrase. An in-joke, I suppose. We would say, let's just call John Sansom and have done with it. I was really only joking, of course, because what are the chances? A million to one, perhaps. And they were joking too, really, but later they became somehow quite earnest about it. Perhaps because of the impact it would have, because he is such a famous politician.'
'What impact? What did your mother do with this guy called John?'
Svetlana Hoth stared on into space, uncomprehending. Lila Hoth sat down again. She said, 'My mother has never spoken in detail about it. Certainly it can't have been espionage. My mother was not a traitor. I say that not as a loyal daughter, but as a realist. She is still alive. Therefore she was never suspected. And her American friend was not a traitor, either. Liaising with foreign traitors was a KGB function, not army. And personally I doubt that her interest was romantic. It was more likely aid of some sort, personal help, either financial or political. Possibly covert. Those were bad times for the Soviet Union. But possibly it was romantic. All she has ever said is that the man was very kind to her. She plays her cards close to her chest.'
'Ask her again, now.'
'I have asked her many times, as you can imagine. She's reluctant to say.'
'But you think Sansom isn't actually involved?'
'No, not at all. That was a joke that got out of hand. That's all. Unless, of course, it really is a million to one thing. Which would be extraordinary, don't you think? To joke about something and have it turn out to be true?'
I said nothing.
Lila Hoth said, 'Now may I ask you a question? Did Susan Mark give you the information intended for my mother?'
Svetlana Hoth smiled and nodded again. I began to suspect she recognized the words my mother. Like a dog that wags its tail when it hears its name. I said, 'Why would you think Susan Mark gave me information?'
'Because the people I hired here told me you told them that she had. Computerized, on a USB memory stick. They gave me that message, and transmitted your photograph, and resigned their commission. I'm not sure why. I was paying them very well.'
I moved in my chair and stuck my hand in my pocket.
Scrabbled down past the disassembled phone and found the Radio Shack stick. I felt the soft pink neoprene sleeve against my fingernails. I pulled it out and held it up and watched Lila Hoth's eyes very carefully.
She looked at the stick the way a cat looks at a bird.
She asked, 'Is that really it?'
Theresa Lee moved in her chair and looked at me. Like she was asking, Are you going to say it, or am I? Lila Hoth caught the glance and asked, 'What?'
I said, 'The whole thing looked very different to me, I'm afraid. Susan Mark was terrified on the train. She was in big trouble. She didn't look like a person coming to town to meet a friend for dinner and a show.'
Lila Hoth said, 'I told you at the beginning, I can't explain that.'
I put the memory stick back in my pocket. Said, 'Susan didn't bring an overnight bag.'
'I can't explain it.'
'And she dumped her car and approached by subway. Which is weird. If you were prepared to book a room for her, I'm sure you would have sprung for valet parking.'
'Sprung?'
'Paid for.'
'Of course.'
'And she was carrying a loaded gun.'
'She lived in Virginia. I heard it's compulsory there.'
'It's legal there,' I said. 'Not compulsory.'