Meanwhile, in Moscow

 

'Dammit, Billings,' Hartford groused as he sat down and opened the styrofoam, 'I thought you were joking when you said to meet here.'

'Why would I joke?' I replied. 'This is it, Hartford. This is what we've been working towards. Big Macs in Red Square, baby! This is it. Be unpatriotic to eat anywhere else.'

'Heh. You sound like a media asset we're developing. He's crazy about these places too. But he's a complete idiot, only good for propaganda work. You've always been sharp - '

'And I still am. None of the old-school kegebishniki come here, none of the nomenklatura either, and it's too proley for the oligarchs, whether we're developing them or not. It's too noisy to bug effectively and I never use the same table. This, Hartford, is the safest damn place in this country. Relax. Or are you just annoyed at not getting to eat caviar on Langley's dime?'

He bristled, but then a sly smile began forming at the corners of his mouth. 'If that's what you're concerned with you may want to start packing some caviar.' With that, he sat back and took a big bite of his burger.

'What?' 

You would've thought the burger was caviar, the amount of time Hartford spent savoring it before replying. 'I've been sent here to inform you that you're being reassigned.'

'The Hell I am! We are at a very fucking delicate stage of this shit, Hartford, I am developing people who are going to be instrumental in...'

'Tell it to Gates, Billings. Tell it to Poppy. I'm just the messenger.'

'That serious?'

'Orders from on high, Billy. You're to get things squared away and be ready to hand over your assets to Ames in - '

'Ames? Ames? Are you fucking shitting me, Hartford?'

'Ames is a longstanding member of the Soviet team...'

'Ames is a fucking drunk, Hartford, and you and I both know it. He would be an absolute disaster as my replacement...'

'Sounds like someone's grown a little attached to their posting.'

'You're talking about putting everything we've been working towards since the Company was fucking founded in the hands of some goddam theater fag who can't even drink straight, Hartford. You sound like someone who's forgotten - '

'And you sound like someone who vastly overestimates his importance in affairs. Babysitting a drunk and a taxi driver isn't exactly the Bay of Pigs.'

'Oh you think so? You think these people are going to greet Ames' Chicago pals as liberators when they come in here and start privatising everything that isn't nailed down and most of what is? These people killed their fucking Czar, Hartford. These people burned down half their country to fuck up Napoleon and did the same to Hitler a hundred years later. This babysitter has to run a fucking spreadsheet to keep track of which members of the football team she needs to blow to stop this thing exploding in our faces. If you think Ames is...'

'I DON'T THINK, BILLINGS,' Hartford erupted with such force the entire restaurant was momentarily silent. He gestured apologetically to one of the janitors and continued more quietly 'I do my fucking job. And so will you. Ours not to reason fucking why. You have two weeks. Get things squared away for Ames to take over, then you're flying to London.'

I must have looked shocked, because I saw that smile flash across his lips again. That fucking snake.

'Why...'

'You get much news of the UK here?'

'We know Princess Di is turning into a bull dagger and dating some bisexual homo...'

'You're all fucking charm Billings, you know that?'

'Sorry, honey, we didn't all get to go to the Ivies.' I shouldn't have put it like that, really, but I wanted to see something on his face other than that fucking smirk. 'What the fuck is happening in Britain?'

'Well, that's the question, isn't it? Seems some Tory choirboy decided to read a few details about one of Maggie's pederast pals into the Parliamentary record and it's all bloody kicked orf, as they say. Riots in the streets, British troops sent to fight Saddam beating up their brass and going AWOL, big swings to Labour...'

'I thought we had them pretty much stitched up again?'

'Well, we did, but that Welsh prick is tainted by association with some of the same fucking people, turns out. And some guy from Woy's spoiler party has just been exposed as a massive pervert too, so they're tanking. Lot of people are talking up the Scotsman.'

'The guy with the eye?'

'No, not him. Smith.'

I said nothing for a moment. 'So that's why they want me back?'

Hartford nodded. 'The thinking at Langley is that while rapprochement with Ivan would be nice, shoring up the old special relationship takes priority.'

'Plus you want this nipped in the bud before some of our perverts start getting outed, right?'

'Don't even joke about that.'

I sucked on my coke, loudly, for a moment. 'Fine, then. Two weeks, then England, and Ames can come over here and fuck everything up. Which he will, by the way.'

'Yeah, well, ours not to...'

'...reason fucking why, yeah, I know,' I sighed. 'Fuck it. There's a place near here with amazing vodka and a very creative approach to receipts. Let's go get drunk on Langley's dime.'

'Yeah, what the Hell,' Hartford stood up and stretched. 'There's no way we can cost more than Ames.'