章節 27: Chapter 27: Private Conversations
Kai Tak Airport, Hong Kong, 18 March 1990
The bright lights of Hong Kong's international airport illuminated the departure lounge as Maxine and her team members gathered. It was a moment of parting, but not one weighed down by sorrow. Rather, it resonated with a sense of triumph and the anticipation of a new chapter. These were comrades who had ventured into the depths of danger together, their bond forged in the crucible of espionage. Maxine knew she owed her safety and the success of the mission to these comrades who had stood by her side in the face of adversity. Their resolve remained unshaken as they prepared to part ways.
XL cleared his throat. "Well, it's been a hell of a ride," he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "But now it's time to head home and get some rest."
Maxine's team members had expressed their desire to accompany her to Moscow, but the reality was that they didn't have the necessary Soviet visas to enter the country. They knew Maxine was the only one who could enter Moscow, still holding her visa under the guise of Finnish journalist Fredrika Juvanen.
Maxine addressed her team, her voice tinged with gratitude. "I can't express how proud I am of each one of you. You've shown exceptional courage and dedication throughout this mission. I couldn't have asked for a better team."
As they departed, Maxine felt a mixture of emotions. She was proud of her team and their dedication, but there was also a sense of solitude that came with knowing she would be facing the final chapter of the mission alone.
Maxine had also arranged for Lloyd Gannis, who had been instrumental in their mission in Turkey, to be sent home to London. Istanbul had served as a critical juncture in their mission, and now, with the mission's focus shifting to Moscow, it was time for Lloyd to return. A plane ticket was provided, and Maxine ensured that Lloyd would be well taken care of on their journey back. It was a way of expressing gratitude for his crucial role in the mission and allowing him to reunite with his loved ones back home.
With all of her team members on their way home, Maxine turned her attention to her own journey. She approached the airline counter, her demeanor that of a seasoned journalist with a mission. Using her well-established cover as Finnish journalist Fredrika Juvanen, she booked a flight to Moscow via Japan, ensuring the itinerary would draw the least suspicion. The journey to Moscow was marked with connections and discreet arrangements.
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Moscow, 19 March 1990
The journey from Hong Kong to Moscow was long and filled with anticipation. Maxine arrived in Moscow, her Finnish journalist cover as Fredrika Juvanen still intact, allowing her to enter the country again without any issues. She checked into a hotel in the heart of the city, where she would lay low while waiting for her meeting with Pyotr Rozagin.
During Maxine's absence from Moscow, there had been notable transformations within the city and the Soviet Union. The Communist Party had taken the remarkable step of relinquishing its monopoly on power, ushering in the possibility of a multiparty system. Additionally, Lithuania had boldly declared its independence from the Soviet Union, becoming the first Soviet republic to successfully achieve secession, despite the lack of acknowledgment from the Soviet Union. Furthermore, the Supreme Soviet had amended the constitution to establish the position of a president, with Mikhail Gorbachev assuming the role as the inaugural president of the Soviet Union. Maxine couldn't help but ponder whether these changes were the very outcomes that Pyotr Rozagin had been instrumental in advancing, and what Hasima Qaiyrbek had foreseen.
Earlier, during their last private meeting, Maxine and Rozagin had arranged certain code-words for contact, ensuring their communications remained covert. Maxine knew that she had to tread carefully in the political labyrinth of Moscow, and every precaution counted.
After settling in her hotel room, Maxine picked up the phone, dialed a number she had memorized, and waited for someone to answer at Rozagin's office in the Ministry of Culture. Rozagin's secretary answered the call. Adopting the guise of the Finnish journalist, Maxine conveyed the message they had devised as a code-word: "Fredrika Juvanen of Kansan Uutiset wants to inform on a new article."
The secretary said she will inform her boss about it. After a while, Rozagin's voice came through the line, a mixture of formality and familiarity. "Fredrika, it's good to hear from you. I can meet you in Gorkiy Park in two hours. I'll be waiting at a bench in front of the central fountain, with a view to the main portal."
Maxine acknowledged his efficiency, saying, "Two hours. I'll be there. Thank you, Mr. Rozagin."
With the plan in motion, Maxine hung up the phone, her thoughts focused on the meeting to come.
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Gorkiy Park, Moscow, 19 March 1990, evening
The appointed hour in Gorkiy Park approached, and Maxine made her way to the meeting point alone. She was dressed in her journalist disguise, her features hidden behind oversized sunglasses. As the evening descended, the park exuded a tranquil ambiance, filled with the hushed conversations of parkgoers and the susurration of leaves, creating an illusion of normality in a world of espionage and secrets.
Reaching the central fountain, Maxine scanned the area, her eyes alighting on a familiar face. Seated on a bench with a view of the main portal, was Pyotr Rozagin. He looked as composed as ever, seamlessly blending with the Moscow crowd.
Rozagin acknowledged her with a nod, and she took a seat beside him, ensuring their conversation would remain private. Maxine, too, kept her focus on the task at hand. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package. Unfolding the cloth, she revealed the burned fragment of the photograph—the evidence of the destruction of the blackmail material. She handed it to Rozagin, who accepted it with a grave expression. Even though most of the photograph had been burned, Rozagin can still see parts of his features. He assumes that this photograph might have shown Isabelle Luciani's face and body—but that part was now gone forever.
Rozagin's eyes met Maxine's, a mixture of gratitude and relief in his gaze. It was a moment of unspoken understanding. Maxine leaned in and whispered, "You're safe, Mr. Rozagin. The blackmail attempt has been thwarted."
"Are you sure that there are no other photographs left?" Rozagin asked.
Maxine met Rozagin's question with a reassuring look. "I'm certain, Mr. Rozagin. The envelope containing the photographs was completely burned. There's no way they could be salvaged. I saw it myself."
Rozagin's sigh of relief was almost imperceptible, but it spoke volumes. His eyes remained fixed on the fragment, the only remaining evidence of a dark chapter in his life.
Maxine continued, recounting the events that had led to the destruction of the photographs. "After you handed over the documents to Sofya Vedenina, she went to Alma-Ata to deliver them, alongside the photographs, to the person behind this blackmail plot. I followed Sofya all the way to Alma-Ata and intercepted her during the exchange. There was a moment of confrontation, a fire sparked, and the photographs were consumed by the flames."
Rozagin's brows furrowed as he sought further clarification. "The person Sofya was going to deliver the photographs to... who was it?"
Maxine's response was measured. "The intended recipient was someone named Hasima Qaiyrbek, the chairperson of KGB's Kazakhstan branch. She was the mastermind behind this elaborate blackmail plot."
Rozagin's brow furrowed with concern. "Qaiyrbek? I've never heard of that name. But if she's with the KGB, this confirms my suspicion that they're involved. But I wonder why it was the Kazakhstan branch behind this."
Maxine chose to omit the details of the fierce firefight and her subsequent capture during the confrontation with Qaiyrbek, not wanting to burden Rozagin with the dangerous intricacies of her mission. "My encounter with her was brief, and I can only say I had a 'conversation' with her. She was adamant in her plan to turn you into her asset in Moscow, should any significant changes occur in the Soviet Union. From what I gather, she believes she's acting in the interests of Kazakhstan. She wants to have someone who will support her securing those interests in Moscow."
Rozagin, always the astute observer, allowed a hint of intrigue to surface. "Significant changes, you say? Well, there have been whispers of shifts in power and ideology. I've been assisting President Gorbachev in navigating these. Tell me, Maxine, what do you see on the horizon?"
Maxine's gaze held a hint of contemplation. "It's hard to say for certain from an outsider's perspective, Mr. Rozagin. But I think there's a sense of unrest and shifting allegiances within the Soviet Union, especially in the republics. Whether it leads to substantial change or not, we can't predict, but it's a factor that those in power must consider."
With a sense of closure and gratitude, Rozagin turned his attention back to the fragment of the photograph. "Thank you, Maxine, for everything you have done. You've averted a catastrophe, and for that, I'm indebted to you."
"I assure you, we will continue to monitor the situation," Maxine responded. "You have friends in high places who value your contributions. My mission to thwart the blackmail plot against you is over, but I can say my agency holds you in high regard. If you ever encounter further trouble or if our interests align, you can contact me."
Rozagin nodded, comprehending the implications of their covert alliance. Their shared secret, forged amidst the shadows of espionage, was a bond not easily broken. "Thank you, Maxine. If our paths cross again, I hope it's under less perilous circumstances."
Their conversation concluded, Maxine rose from the bench. Rozagin, now free from the looming threat, remained behind to contemplate the new chapter in his life.The weight of concealed truths hung in the air, a silent testament to the world they navigated. They parted ways, each venturing into their respective domains, where danger and intrigue were ever-present.
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As Maxine exited the park, a sense of relief enveloped her. Her mission had been a success, and the threat to Pyotr Rozagin was extinguished. Her steps carried her away from the rendezvous point, back into the bustling streets of Moscow. The path was illuminated by the faint glow of streetlights, casting a veil of mystery over her surroundings.
However, her retreat was far from uneventful. Just as she stepped beyond the park's boundaries, a voice, calm but determined, called out to her. "Miss Juvanen?"
What truly caught Maxine off guard was when the voice went on to use her actual name, "Maxine."
The words cut through the din of the city, and Maxine couldn't ignore them. She turned slowly to find herself face to face with Judith-Ann "Dita" Wardrop-Rozagin, Pyotr Rozagin's British wife. Dita's demeanor held an air of quiet authority, and her gaze bore into Maxine with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine. Maxine remembered Dita's possessive nature; she had seen glimpses of it during her previous interactions with Pyotr Rozagin. For some reason, Dita was there right after Maxine met Pyotr. Did she somehow knew about their meeting?
Maxine, still maintaining her journalist disguise as Fredrika Juvanen, attempted to avoid the confrontation, her voice calm but determined. "Good evening, Mrs. Rozagin. Fancy meeting you here."
"I know you just met my husband," Dita went straight to the point.
"I'm afraid, Mrs. Rozagin, my business with your husband is done. I'll be out of his life," Maxine said, attempting to dismiss the unwelcome attention.
But Dita was not easily deterred. "I know everything, Maxine Remington. I know who you really are. I know you work for the CIA. And I know about the attempt to ensnare my husband in a blackmail plot. We need to talk."
Maxine understood there was no escaping this confrontation. She nodded, acknowledging the inevitable. "Very well, Mrs. Rozagin. We can have a private conversation, if that's what you wish."
Dita gestured for Maxine to follow her. They headed toward a parked car with darkly tinted windows, a vehicle that offered the seclusion necessary for their private conversation. Inside the car, it was just the two of them, and the world outside faded into the background, granting them an intimate space to discuss their shared secrets.
Maxine couldn't help but be surprised by the extent of Dita's awareness. The British woman's revelation about her knowledge about Maxine's mission sent a shiver down Maxine's spine.
"I know more than you might think, Maxine," Dita began, her words revealing the depth of her understanding. "I was the one who discreetly tipped off the CIA early on about the blackmail plot, which eventually led to you being assigned to thwart it. It was my way of protecting my husband and his position."
Maxine listened, realizing that the layers of secrecy in their world ran deeper than she could have imagined. Dita's next revelation added another layer of intrigue to their shared world.
"I'm not just an ordinary wife, Maxine. I'm no different from you, Maxine, or from Hasima Qaiyrbek, or Sofya Vedenina," Dita confessed. "I'm a practitioner of espionage, a sleeper agent affiliated with British MI6. My mission was to establish a deep cover position within the Soviet Union. My marriage to Pyotr was initially a part of that scheme, but it evolved into something more."
Maxine absorbed the gravity of Dita's words. The revelation that Dita, the seemingly unassuming wife of a high-ranking Soviet official, was in fact a sleeper agent for British intelligence added another layer of complexity to the world they inhabited.
"I wanted a position within the Soviet Union," Dita admitted, her voice tinged with a blend of confession and explanation. "One that would be more permanent and substantial than a journalistic or diplomatic post. Marriage seemed to be one way to get it. If I chose the right person to marry, I could get access to the highest levels. Pyotr was already a rising star in the Soviet government when I first met him some twenty years ago. Initially, my family opposed my relationship with him, unaware of my long-term mission. But I was more rebellious and independent in those days. As it turned out, Pyotr successfully climbed his way to the top. And part of the reason I've been protecting him from the blackmail plot is that I don't want his career to be ruined by scandal."
The complexities of her mission, driven by both espionage and genuine affection for her husband, became increasingly apparent. Maxine understood the depth of Dita's commitment, both to her mission and her marriage.
Dita's revelations continued, shedding light on her role in Pyotr's life and the broader political context. "My position allowed me to expose Pyotr to Western ideas, which, in turn, contributed to his involvement in Gorbachev's progressive faction. He may appear as just one of many high-ranking officials in the Soviet central government, but behind the scenes, he's one of the thinkers designing more progressive policies for Gorbachev's administration."
Maxine grasped the complexities of Dita's emotions. Beneath the facade of espionage and protection, genuine love for Pyotr Rozagin radiated. The layers of secrecy and intrigue continued to unfold in the confined space of the car, where the two women now sat.
"My network alerted me about the beginnings of a blackmail plot targeting my husband," Dita explained. "It's a network I've cultivated over a long time, with eyes and ears in most of the Soviet republics. But my public life as an official's wife restricts me from taking direct action. So, I sent hints to international contacts, and the CIA eventually followed up by assigning you."
Maxine listened intently as Dita's revelations continued to paint a picture of the intricate web of espionage intertwined with genuine affection in her life. The layers of secrecy and motivation unfolded, exposing the complexity of their shared world. Dita's admission about her network, developed over time to keep a watchful eye even in the remote corners of the Soviet Union, shed light on the extensive groundwork she had laid. Her role in alerting international contacts, ultimately leading to Maxine's assignment by the CIA, underscored her commitment to protecting her husband, Pyotr Rozagin.
With a genuine sense of gratitude, Dita addressed Maxine, "I am grateful for your actions, Maxine. You played a crucial role in protecting Pyotr, and for that, I am thankful."
"Your kind words mean so much," Maxine replied sincerely.
Dita, her voice carrying a blend of sincerity and a touch of vulnerability, acknowledged her own nature. "I'm generally happy with my marriage to Pyotr, even though I know he has a weakness for beautiful women. That's why I sometimes act jealous and possessive – to protect him from his weakness." As she spoke, it became apparent that beneath the layers of secrecy and subterfuge, a true love for her husband shone through. "I might have directed that jealousy towards you in the past, and I want to apologize for it."
Dita's eyes betrayed the turmoil beneath her composed exterior. Her love for Pyotr was undeniable, but so was the burden of her double life. She found herself constantly walking a tightrope, her dedication to her mission and husband tested with each passing day. Guilt and anxiety were familiar companions, a result of the intricate web of deceit she wove. The complexities of their emotions, intertwined within the shroud of secrecy, became increasingly evident, and Maxine responded with empathy. "I can understand the challenges you face, Mrs. Rozagin. Your commitment to your husband and your mission is admirable. I apologize if my actions have ever raised your suspicions or added to your concerns. It was never my intention to come between you and your husband."
In an atmosphere of understanding, Dita replied, "It's alright, Maxine. I now understand what we were up against."
Attempting to lighten the mood, Maxine added with a hint of self-deprecating humor, "And just so you know, I try to work as professionally as I can. I don't believe I'm beautiful enough to be Mr. Rozagin's type." The comment was meant as a subtle compliment to Dita, acknowledging her elegance and beauty.
Dita's laughter filled the confined space of the car, and for a moment, the weight of their secrets seemed to lift. "You're too modest, Maxine. But I appreciate the sentiment."
As the tension in the car dissipated, Dita couldn't help but remain curious about one thing. She turned to Maxine and asked, "Did you manage to apprehend the seductress who ensnared my husband? Who was she, and what was she like?"
Dita awaited Maxine's response, her curiosity apparent in her eyes. However, as Maxine considered the question, her mind wandered through the memories of Isabelle: her dark past as an orphan, her troubled present as a high-end escort trying to survive, and the emotional breakdown Maxine witnessed during their interrogation.
In that moment, Maxine recognized the importance of discretion. Dita had already shared her own vulnerabilities and the complexities of her relationship with Pyotr. It seemed unwise to reveal Isabelle's identity, as doing so could further disturb Dita's married life. Dita's extensive resources would enable her to find out more if she desired.
With a nod, Maxine simply said, "Yes, Mrs. Rozagin, we did manage to apprehend the seductress. She won't pose a threat anymore."
Dita accepted this answer without pressing further, her eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and understanding. She thanked Maxine once more for her assistance, and a sense of closure enveloped their private conversation. "You've done a great service, Maxine. You may go now."
As Maxine left the car, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. Her mission had been a success, and she had navigated the intricate web of espionage, intrigue, and genuine emotions. Dita's parting message, however, hung in the air, hinting at the uncertainty ahead. "Watch out for next year, Maxine. Things are going to be out of control here." she had said, leaving Maxine with a sense of foreboding.
Finally, Maxine could return home, her mission accomplished. It was time to report to her superiors, leaving this clandestine chapter of her life behind and moving on to the next. The mission had ended, but the story of espionage, intrigue, and the unknown future would persist.
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