Siro by David Ignatius (short books to read txt) 📕

home; how he had bugged the apartment and what he had found on the tape. Stone nodded and stroked his chin throughout the recital. When Taylor finished, he sat silent for a moment. It was the evening rush hour, and the Bosporus was packed with boats—large ferries and tiny dinghies skittering across the water.

“From what you’ve heard and observed, what would you guess Mr. Rawls is doing?” asked Stone.

“Trying to organize a Russian émigré network.”

“Um-hum. And to do what?”

Taylor thought a moment. “I suppose to make trouble for the Russians.”

“Yes. Certainly that. But to what end?”

“He claims that the goal is to liberate Turkestan.”

“Yes, but obviously that’s balderdash.”

“I agree. So what’s the point?”

“The point is simple,” said Stone. “Assess the anti-Soviet underground. Test its strength and conviction. Develop contacts.”

Taylor nodded. “Okay. Understood.” He noticed that as Stone ran through this explanation, he had a trace of a smile on his face, though Taylor couldn’t imagine why.

“It’s always good to have contacts in our line of work,” continued Stone. “You never know how you might be able to use them.”

“I know this is none of my business,” said Taylor. “But isn’t there a danger the operation could get out of control? Some of these Uzbeks and Kazakhs are nuts.”

“A modest danger,” said Stone. “But certainly a risk worth running.” He was smiling again.

Taylor nodded. All this fencing was making him edgy. When was Stone going to tip his hand and explain what he was up to?

Ali Kaptan bellowed something from the bridge. The Teodora was making its way past the twin fortresses—Rumeli Hisar and Anadolu Hisar—that guarded opposite banks of the Bosporus at its narrowest point.

Taylor pointed out the landmark. “Europe and Asia are closest together right here,” he explained.

“Not very close, is it?” said Stone. He studied the landscape for a moment and then resumed his interrogation.

“Did you follow Mr. Rawls again, after you had listened to the tape?”

“No,” answered Taylor.

“Did you replenish the tape?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“For the obvious reason.”

“What was that?”

“Because I assumed I had stepped into something I shouldn’t have. Something I wasn’t supposed to know about, even though it was on my turf.”

Stone cocked his ear. “I beg your pardon?”

“Because I assumed,” said Taylor with an edge of anger in his voice, “that I had stumbled into one of our operations.”

Stone chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

Stone fumbled with something in his pocket, shifted his feet, stared into the distance.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” said Taylor, more loudly. He had a momentary desire to punch Stone in his wise, well-groomed face.

“You needn’t shout.”

“Isn’t it?” repeated Taylor. “Rawls is a NOC, right?”

“Rawls?”

“Yes, Rawls, goddammit.”

“No, actually. He’s not.”

“He’s not?”

“No,” said Stone, finally laughing out loud. “That’s the interesting thing. It’s not our operation at all. I have made a very thorough check, and I can assure you categorically that we have no such operation on the books.”

“What about the Canadians? Or the Brits?”

“He’s not their man either. I’ve checked.”

Taylor drew a breath. He felt as if he had been slapped. “Rawls isn’t our man?”

“No. Of course not. We haven’t done that sort of thing for years.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

Stone chortled again. He thought it was all very funny.

“If Rawls isn’t ours, or the Canadians’ or the Brits’, then whose man is he?”

“The Russians’, I suspect.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I assure you that I am not. I would wager a substantial amount that the Soviets are running a false-flag operation. And the flag in question is our own Stars and Stripes, with a bit of Maple Leaf for camouflage.”

“Why are they doing it, for chrissake?”

“I already explained it to you, but you weren’t listening. Or rather, you weren’t hearing what I was saying.”

“Tell me again. I’m dumb.”

“They are doing it for the same reasons we would, only in reverse. They want to develop contacts, test the waters, get to know the breadth and strength of the anti-Soviet underground. And then, of course, they want to control and manipulate it. They’re really quite paranoid on this subject.”

“But why the false flag?”

“How else would the Soviets penetrate an anti-Soviet underground? They certainly wouldn’t announce they were the KGB. It’s standard procedure. The Israelis want to recruit a spy in the Syrian Army, so the recruiter pretends to be a Russian military officer. The target will spill his guts; he may even feel patriotic about it. Same thing here.”

Taylor shook his head. He was embarrassed. “Rawls is a Russian?”

“Probably, yes,” said Stone. “A very well-trained one, it appears. North Americans are the hardest people to imitate. You can get the accent right, with enough practice, but we have so many nuances, and the whole world knows them by heart. They’ve grown up watching our movies and television shows. They know how we talk and walk, how we light cigarettes, how we laugh. But it sounds as if your Mr. Rawls did a creditable job.”

“Crackerjack.”

“Don’t blame yourself. With a few more minutes—or a bit less booze—I’m sure you and your friend would have gotten suspicious. A word or a gesture not quite right. Rawls was very lucky. He thought he would only need to convince Uzbeks and Tatars.”

“But why would the Russians go to all the trouble?”

“My dear boy, they are secret policemen. This is what secret policemen do. They go looking for enemies. In this case, they have some reason to be nervous. They understand that the only real threat to the survival of the Soviet Union is the stability of its ethnic republics.”

“They can’t be that frightened of a bunch of Uzbeks.”

“It’s not just the Uzbeks they fear, but what might lie behind them.”

“Like what?”

“Like the United States.”

“Why would they think that?”

“Oh, there have been a few little hints from Washington over the past year. A few straws in the wind. Just enough to worry a sensible KGB man.”

“And what might those hints have been?”

“I can’t tell you,” said Stone sweetly. “Not for now, at least. Perhaps another time.”

Taylor looked at Stone with a growing sense of astonishment. He seemed to be holding a hand that contained nothing but wild cards.

“The Soviets