“Which means I cannot move to Russia.”
“I can understand that, too.”
“When you said you want to spend the rest of your life with me, did you mean it? Was that a proposal of marriage, or did you mean you would like to continue to take sexual advantage of my naiveté and innocence?”
General Murov got off the bed and onto his knees.
“My darling Agrafina Bogdanovich, will you do me the great honor of becoming my bride?”
“Before I answer that, darling Sergei, I have a little confession of my own to make.”
“Which is?”
“My latest film, Catherine and the Household Cavalry, to which I referred is not actually a documentary.”
“I know, I know. I’ve watched it a hundred times. Another reason, my precious, that my heart was beating so wildly when I first saw you in the flesh.”
—
Thirty minutes later:
“Well, that’s the end of the Stolichnaya, my darling, and almost the end of me,” General Murov said somewhat breathlessly. “What should we do now?”
“Actually, I’ve been giving that some serious thought, my precious.”
“What occurred to me was getting into the Jacuzzi—they say that restores vigor—and then ordering up another bottle of the Stolichnaya and a couple dozen oysters. How does that sound?”
“I was thinking of our future. Since you agree that your only option is to defect and become—once you’re finished with the CIA debriefing—chairman of the board of Red Ravisher Films, Inc.”
“I look forward to that. I’ve always had a secret yearning to be a capitalist.”
“And you told me, right, that to defect and not find yourself playing soccer with a bunch of crazy Arabs in Guantánamo, you’ll have to defect through the director of the CIA, A. Franklin Lampoon.”
“That’s Lammelle, my darling, A. Franklin Lammelle. Frank and I, professional differences aside, of course, always got along very well.”
“And you said that getting in touch with him might be difficult—”
“What I said, my precious, is that if I just called the CIA in Langley and asked to speak with him, they would ask who was calling, and if I replied I was General Sergei Murov of the SVR, they would laugh hysterically and hang up on me.”
“I think I see a way around that, my darling. You also said that Mr. Lammelle and the officer who is about to marry your beloved Svetlana are friends.”
“They’re as tight as ticks,” Murov said.
“I’ve always wondered what that means. It brings to my mind an image of intoxicated insects.”
“Well, that’s what people are always saying.”
“What I think we should do, my darling, striking while the iron is hot, so to speak, is go over to the Grand Cozumel and speak with Colonel Costello—”
“That’s Castillo, my precious.”
“And ask him to get Mr. Lammelle on the line for you.”
“Darling, I don’t know—”
“Going to the Grand Cozumel, my darling, would also give you the opportunity to not only see your beloved Svetlana but to offer her your best wishes on her upcoming nuptials.”
“My precious, I don’t think—”