Gone Tomorrow

I asked, ‘So what did you do about tracing the American?’

‘My mother was clear that her friend John had been in the army, not the Marines. That was my starting point. So I telephoned from London to your Department of Defense and asked what I should do. After many explanations I was transferred to the Human Resources Command. They have a press office. The man I spoke to was quite touched. He thought it was a sweet story. Possibly he saw a public relations aspect, I don’t know. Some good news at last, perhaps, instead of all the bad. He said he would make inquiries. Personally I thought he was wasting his time. John is a very common name. And as I understand it, most American soldiers rotate through Germany, and most visit Berlin. So I thought the pool of possibilities would grow enormous. Which apparently it did. The next thing I knew was weeks later when a clerk called Susan Mark telephoned me. I wasn’t home. She left a message. She said she had been assigned the task. She told me that some names that sound like John are actually contractions of Jonathan, spelled without the letter H. She wanted to know if my mother had ever seen the name written down, perhaps on a note. I asked my mother and called Susan Mark back and told her we were sure it was John with the letter H. The conversation with Susan turned out to be very pleasant, and we had many more. We almost became friends, I think, the way you sometimes can on the phone. Like pen-pals, but talking instead of writing. She told me a lot about herself. She was a very lonely woman, and I think our conversations brightened her days.’

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, di

I asked, ‘What time were you expecting her?’

‘About ten o’clock. She said she would leave after work.’

‘Too late for di

‘She pla

‘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 a

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 Pe

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?’