Undeceived (15 page)

“We want to hear your take.”

Darcy sighed. “Of course you do.” He settled back in his chair again as if preparing to spin a long yarn. “I was called in to watch Wickham conduct Jirina’s intake interview from behind the two-way mirror.”

“She never saw you.”

“No. She had questionable validity as an asset, and I was station chief. We didn’t want her to be able to identify me.”

“Go on.”

“She gave us quite an interesting history.”

“Meaning, a fictional one.”

“Not necessarily. We’re still investigating some aspects of it, but some facts have been verified.”

“Let’s start with those.”

“Miss Sobota was the daughter of a popular Czech pianist, Adriana Sobota. Jirina’s father was MIA but was rumored to be an American. Jirina had only seen the man once, when she was about fourteen. This was about a year after her mother died in an automobile accident. The father had visited Jirina in secret, and during that conversation, he confided to her that he was married to a woman living in the States. During a period of estrangement from his wife, he had fallen in love with Jirina’s mother. He didn’t know of Jirina’s existence until her mother’s death, and when he found out Adriana had a child, he did the math and confirmed that the timing was right for her to be his daughter.”

“Do we know the identity of this father?”

“Still searching for him.”

“Go on.”

“Since her mother’s death, Jirina had been residing with her mother’s sister, a woman married to a deputy minister in the Communist government. Jirina’s father could not get her out of Czechoslovakia without endangering her life—and his, most likely—so he left her in the care of her aunt and uncle, promising to get her out when he could. He also told her, if anything should happen to him, that she had an older half brother in the States. We haven’t been able to locate him either.”

“So her story really is speculative.”

“At this time, not all of it can be verified. What is known is that Jirina’s father never returned for her—never contacted her again. However, she was convinced he had told her the truth, and she wanted out of Czechoslovakia. She came to the embassy offering the only collateral she had. She was a student living with a Communist politician. She was also consorting with dissidents—artists and other friends of her mother’s—and trying to connect them with students who were interested in changing Czechoslovakia’s future. She offered to provide us with that information, so we could have the names and covertly attend meetings. In addition, she also offered whatever government information she could glean from living in her uncle’s house. Her price for this information was passage to the US and help finding her half brother. Her father had used an alias while he was in Czechoslovakia, so she didn’t even know his real name.

“We had a dilemma with Jirina Sobota. Her goal was to escape Prague, and our goal was to keep her there. What good is an asset if she isn’t in the field?”

“True enough.”

“I had to balance her safety and her willingness to spy for us with our requirements for information. The higher-ups in the agency were very interested in the student factions of the anti-Communist underground groups, so I got a lot of pressure from Washington to keep her in place.”

“So you were her handler?”

“No. I kept Wickham as her case officer, and he reported to me. After all, the fewer people she connected with, the better it would be for all concerned. I kept tabs on her though and developed some admiration for her, I suppose.”

The man off-camera cleared his throat delicately. “I see.”

“It wasn’t a romantic interest. Perhaps I have a jaded reputation, but I am capable of purer motives than what’s in the best interest of my libido.”

“Of course.”

“I admired her courage and her determination as I admired many of the people in Czechoslovakia. She was young and idealistic and full of hope.”

“Tell me about the Ramsgate op.”

“Ramsgate. A name synonymous with FUBAR from this point until forever.”

The voice didn’t respond.

“Yeah. When Jirina asked me, through Wickham, to attend a meeting of the dissidents, I agreed to go…at first. Later, I reconsidered that decision.”

“Why did she want you to go?”

“So she could plead her case, would be my guess. To ask for my assistance in getting her to the States so she could find her half brother.”

“And why did you change your mind about going?”

“Another trusted asset reported that state security knew the Prague COS would make an appearance at this meeting. We never could confirm this rumor though, so I made an executive decision and put about that I would be in Brataslava on the day in question. Jirina could still attend the meeting and get the dissidents’ names and a lead on their plans. Wickham was to take her to the meeting and pick her up at a prearranged place afterward.”

“And that’s where things began to go wrong.”

Darcy frowned and put his fist in his hand with some vehemence. “I
told
him to be careful—to get there early so he and Jirina could evaluate the situation before entering. I was suspicious enough that I even arranged for another officer to be on site, one who had dossiers on the most likely KGB agents. He was stationed as a concierge in the hotel where the meeting was to take place. He was to signal Jirina if the meeting had been infiltrated by KGB by jingling his keys in his left hand and then twirling the ring around his index finger before putting them back in his pocket. Jirina never got the signal instructions. I left a message with that information for Wickham, but he was late getting her to the hotel and didn’t check for last-minute details, which was standard procedure by the way.”

“Why did you not contact him by phone or in person at the embassy?”

“He wasn’t at the embassy, and I knew the chances of finding a secure line in Brataslava were slim to none. I sent a trusted messenger—”

“And who was that?”

“Bill Collins. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but if you give him a message, he can manage to deliver it. When one of the assets we left behind checked the drop, it was there.”

The interviewer’s pen scratched across the paper as he took down the name. Darcy leaned forward and checked the notes, and then went on.

“My concierge friend gave the signal, but Jirina went in anyway, not knowing any better. He, not knowing where her pickup point was, waited outside. She reappeared a few hours later, much to his relief, but he also saw that she had picked up a tail, so he followed them. Jirina must have also realized she was being followed because Novák said she picked up her pace, almost running by the time she approached the cafe where Wickham was to pick her up. The KGB nabbed her right outside the cafe while Novák stood there, helpless to intervene. He watched as she screamed, tried to get away, and he watched as Wickham let them take her.”

“You blame Wickham for that.”

“Hell yes, I blame him! I mean, I understand he could hardly expose himself to capture at that point—he knew too much—but neither of them would have been in that position in the first place if he had just done his damned job! He was careless, and that carelessness cost me an asset and Jirina Sobota a hell of a lot more than that.”

“What happened then?”

“Wickham called my office in a blind panic, accusing me of all kinds of wild things—of trying to get him killed, of being a double agent, of letting the KGB take Jirina so I wouldn’t have to get her out of Prague. I tried to talk him down when we regrouped at the US Embassy. He didn’t believe me when I said I arranged for a safety signal. He was emotional, frightened—which was atypical for him and made me wonder what was going on. That’s when I found out he was sleeping with her. He had seduced a nineteen-year-old college student, his asset, and through his oversight, he cost her everything.”

“You were angry.”

“I was furious! He did everything he shouldn’t have. Every damn thing.”

“And then?”

“After that, he and I had no choice but to flee Czechoslovakia. She was most likely being interrogated, possibly tortured, and I had no idea how long such a young person could hold out under those circumstances. She still didn’t know me by sight, but Wickham had told her I worked in the State Department, so it wouldn’t have been that much of a stretch to figure out who I was.”

The image faded. There had been two more interviews over the next week, detailing Darcy’s frustration with Wickham: appointments with assets that weren’t kept, money that he squandered, and women that he entertained on the agency’s dime. Darcy had gone to bat for him on the money issue more than once, but now he was convinced the man was an incorrigible spendthrift. He wasn’t fit for fieldwork. If he stayed in the agency at all, he needed to be behind a desk at Langley where he could be watched. A man with that kind of financial history was a prime target for the KGB’s stable of double agents.

The last entry was dated February 4, 1982, the day before Darcy left for Budapest. He looked better physically; he’d cut his hair, filled out some. He was tan, Elizabeth noted, and filed that detail away. He looked…good. But then he began to talk, and the agony in his face erased any notice of his improved physical condition.

“You’ve had additional information in the Ramsgate op.”

“Yes. They’ve found her.”

“Jirina Sobota?”

“MI6 got wind of the KGB holding an American asset outside Prague in preparation for transport to the USSR. They, in coordination with our military-trained agents, infiltrated the compound and pulled Jirina Sobota out of KGB hands.”

“Where is she now?”

“In a place where she will be safe, physically, and where her emotional trauma will be addressed.”

“And where is that?”

Darcy smirked. “Above your clearance level, sir.”

“I’ll take that up with the director.”

“You do that. Sir.” He pushed a paper toward the interviewer. “Her whereabouts are sensitive compartmentalized information.”

“And yet you know where she is.”

“I do.”

“Does Wickham know she’s been found?”

Darcy’s expression hardened. “No, nor will he. His security clearance has been downgraded since we returned. This mismanagement has cost him his career in the field and several opportunities here at home.”

“Harsh.”

“It will never be enough punishment for what he did to Jirina.” Darcy stood. “Interview over.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve got to pack. I’m leaving tomorrow on assignment.”

“Where can we contact you if we need additional information to close the Ramsgate investigation?”

“Budapest. Through appropriate secure channels, of course.”

“They’re sending you back out there? Even after the incident in Prague?”

“Neither the other side nor the compromised asset ever laid eyes on me. I’ll be fine.”

“Still…”

“My career might suffer in the short term because of Ramsgate, but I’ll recover. I’ll be station chief again, somewhere. Mark my words.” Darcy turned to the door. “Good day, sir.”

For several seconds after Darcy left the room, the interviewer sat. Elizabeth sat as well, watching as the gray suit sleeve reached over and shut off the camera. She spent the next two hours combing through the paper files and reading reports that confirmed it all. Wickham was sloppy, unorganized—took unnecessary chances with information and assets. Darcy had gotten Wickham out of his predicaments before, but there was no cleaning up the Ramsgate mess. Wickham must have somehow persuaded the director to suspect Darcy, though how he had done so, with this kind of record, was a mystery.

Quietly, she gathered the materials and placed them back in their packaging marked “Top Secret: Sensitive Compartmentalized Information.” She called up to her own department and informed the secretary she was taking the afternoon off. She drove without the radio all the way back to Fredericksburg, needing the silence to think. There was a letter in the mailbox, asking her to vacate the Fredericksburg property within forty-eight hours. She would be moving back to her apartment near McLean, awaiting her next assignment. When she got inside, she saw Darcy’s closet was empty and his things were gone. He’d either had someone clean it out, or he’d done it himself while she was gone. Either way, it seemed that he had no interest in discussing anything with her.

Finally, she remembered that there was more on Darcy’s tape. She pulled out the Walkman.

…As for Wickham…

I hope that after considering all the information from the archived files, you’ll realize I didn’t ruin him. He did that pretty much on his own. I can only imagine what half-truths he told you and what omissions he made when he told his sob story to the director. But if they kept you in the dark, perhaps it’s no wonder he was successful in convincing you I was playing favorites. There was really no way for you to detect any deception on his part, and perhaps you aren’t suspicious of your colleagues without provocation.”
A chuckle rumbled in his throat.
“A stint in counterintelligence should cure you of that.

“I should have told you all this last night, perhaps. I have a tendency to lose my heart and my head around you, Elizabeth, and that can be my only excuse for not immediately telling you what you deserved to know. If you have any additional questions, you can ask Fitz. He was part of the team that rescued Jirina. You won’t be able to ask me because I will be gone soon. I have another assignment, in the Caribbean, and will be out of touch for some time.

“I’ll close by saying that I never meant to offend you or impose on you in any way. You have my professional respect as well as my gratitude for the two times you’ve saved my life. In spite of everything that has transpired between us, I wish you the very best.

Goodbye, Elizabeth, and good luck.”

Elizabeth rewound the tape and played it over and over. Finally, after about the fourth go-around, she fell asleep to the sound of his voice in her ear.

Part Three