The Soviet Comeback by Jamie Smith (best ereader for academics TXT) 📕

unusual KGB activity is visible. I need to give them something else. Something on our possible retreat from Afghanistan perhaps?”

“We never retreat!” said Klitchkov with scorn. “It is a victorious withdrawal. If I ever hear you use the word retreat again you will wish you had stayed in the cold box. It is a word that struck fear into all of us who fought for victory against the German Nazi pigs many years ago. I did not fight to defend Stalingrad through the bleakest of winters in 1942 to raise Soviet agents who talked so carelessly about retreats.”

“Yes, sir, your bravery in the war is famous. What I meant was that perhaps the… victory in Afghanistan presents an opportunity to feed the Americans a story to divert their attentions away from the INF Treaty.”

“Do whatever you must to turn their attentions away from investigating our nuclear disarmament,” he said shortly.

“And what of the White Russian lead? It would not be prudent to eliminate anyone else connected to the Cold War.”

“Agreed. There is a plan in place.”

“Who do you have in mind?” Nikita asked.

“That is classified, agent.”

“I will need to know my assignment, sir.”

“Not every assignment is carried out by you, Allochka. You are part of a network, do not forget that. You are far from the only agent we have in the CIA. While you are significant, you are not the only vital asset. Everyone can be replaced.”

Nikita looked at him, and he knew that they were both fully aware that he was irreplaceable and an agent it would take years to replicate. It did cause him to think about who else was a CIA mole. Most, he imagined, would be American double agents, but he was curious to know if any others from the Soviet Union had been so deeply embedded.

“Of course, I understand, Colonel. Please forgive my assumption.”

“I know you excel at fooling lie detectors, which is what made your entry into the CIA possible. But even the most steadfast and resilient of people can crack when pressure is applied to the right place. What you do not know you cannot divulge. It is standard protocol as you well know. You receive instruction related to your mission alone; anything else is not your concern. What is your concern is maintaining your cover and giving the Americans whatever it is, they need to look elsewhere. There are plans in motion to ensure that US and NATO staff see what they need to see at our mid-range nuclear sites.”

“Has there been a change of strategy, sir?”

“Of course not, this is the tip of an iceberg we have been developing for years. Do not fear, comrade, your cover is safe and we will ensure that the Americans get what they need. Now let us talk about how to sow the seeds of doubt into their theory of the White Russian…” said Klitchkov, leaning forwards and chuckling again at the code name.

***

Half an hour later, Nikita was in a cab on the way into town to his car. He noticed that the chalk marks on the mailbox had now disappeared.

His head was whirring from his conversation with Klitchkov. It felt so strange that the colonel would visit him in person; it was what his handler was trained for. It only served to pile pressure on him for what was a mission already pushing him to the edge of his nerves. He could feel the weight of the Soviet empire pushing down on him and it felt crushing. As he got out of the cab and into his own car, he spotted a liquor store already open for business and felt a pull to get himself a drink to prepare him for the day. Removing his hand from the door he slapped himself round the face. “What are you becoming Nikita?” he said to himself, and started up the car, pulling off and making his way to work. He needed his wits to be razor sharp if he was to successfully manufacture another deception of an entire intelligence agency and government.

Chewing his lip, a habit he had developed when deep in thought, his mind was completely preoccupied with his conversation with the man he could not figure out. Sometimes he hated him; sometimes he felt he was just being pushed to become what he must. Sometimes he longed for an easy, normal life. Certainly, he wished for a life of peace. Sleeping was become increasingly elusive to him. During the days, he barely spared a thought for his victims who were now piling up considerably. But at night, that was when they returned to him. Their faces, the light in their eyes fading until extinguished, the souls that would be waiting for him in the afterlife. He considered himself a rational man and gave little credence to such things as an afterlife during his waking hours, but the night brought with it doubts, fears and a desire for there to be something greater than himself that could save his soul.

Recently he had come across Theodore Roosevelt’s words which had since become his mantra. ‘Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty. I have never in my life envied a human being who leads an easy life. I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well.’

The irony of using the words of a former US president as a motivation for his current pursuits wasn’t lost on him.

After going through the daily security checks, he parked his car and headed into the ugly, largely concrete Central Intelligence Agency offices, enduring further security checks. Then he made his way through the labyrinth of corridors to the dingy rooms of the Soviet Counter-intelligence Branch, all the while running on autopilot.

He hadn’t given a moment’s thought to Chang until he keyed in