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“And he says, ‘Go ahead, write it. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Then what?”
“Then you tell him that after you write it, and he denies it, you’re going to write another story: ‘Former CIA Station Chief Confirms That Rogue Special Operator Stole Russian Defectors from CIA.’ And that the only way you’re not going to write the story is if Castillo tells you it’s not true.”
“And who is this former CIA station chief? And why would he tell me this?”
“It’s a she. Her name is Eleanor Dillwo
rth. The day after Kiril Demidov was found in the taxicab outside the American embassy with Dillworth’s calling card on his chest, she was fired. She feels she has been treated unfairly.”
“Why should I believe her?”
“Roscoe J. Danton does. She went to him with this story. He’s now in Buenos Aires looking for Castillo.”
“How do you know that?”
“The rezident there told me. He’s actually very good at what he does.”
He wouldn’t tell me that if it wasn’t true.
It’s too easy to check out.
“Just for the sake of argument, Sergei: Say I believe you. Say I do all this—I’d start by talking to this Dillworth woman—what’s in it for me?”
“Well, Harry, it would be a hell of a story. Especially once we get Colonel Berezovsky and his sister out in the open, if they told their story to you, and only to you. And of course I would be very grateful to you. And so would the rezident. That might be very useful in the future, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I can see that,” Whelan said. “But I can’t help but wonder why you’re being so good to me.”
“Because you are not only a very nice fellow, Harry, but the most important journalist I know.”
“Oh, bullshit!” Whelan said modestly.
But I probably am the most important journalist you know.
Murov took his cell phone from the breast pocket of his suit, opened it, punched buttons, and then put it on the table.
“What’s this?” Whelan asked.
“It’s what they call a cell phone, Harry.”
Whelan took a closer look, and then picked it up.
The telephone was ready to call a party identified as DILLWORTH, E.
“You said you’d want to start by talking to Miss Dillworth,” Murov said.
If I push the CALL button, I’ll probably wind up talking to some female Russian spy.
But what good would that do him?
He pushed the CALL button.
A female voice answered on the third buzz.
“Miss Eleanor Dillworth, please.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“My name is C. Harry Whelan.”
