The lights in the bar were low; cigarette smoke hung lazily about the place because, well, this was Moscow and it didn’t have anywhere else to go. If the patrons knew that the dive they were drinking cheap vodka and listening to outlawed (not to mention badly outdated) western music did not officially exist, they did not let that knowledge brighten their evening.
Codename: Dosvidanya, a Russian espionage agent posing as a Pravda paperboy, sat in a booth in the back. A few minutes after he arrived, a familiar voice asked, “Is this accordion taken?” It was Codename: Hammer of Righteousness, an American agent posing as a freelance hair stylist, using the coded phrase the two had worked out that meant, “I haven’t been followed. Is it safe to sit with you?”
“In the kingdom of the bland,” Dosvidanya, in perfect English, responded, “the man who has been on the CBS Evening News with Dan Rather is king.” This was the code for, “Yes.”
The two men had been friends for several years, meeting as often as their busy schedules (Dosvidanya’s paper route had taken him to Cuba three times in the past two years, while Hammer simply vanished every so often) and discretion allowed. The atmosphere was tense, but, as in previous meetings, several rounds of cheap American liquor made the conversation flow much more freely.
“You want to talk about bugs?” the American roared, grinning broadly. “Let me tell you something, my Russian friend: we’ve been listening in on your Foreign Minister for months! What do you think of that? Hunh? What do you think of that?”
Dosvidanya giggled. “Really? How could you do such a thing?”
“We’ve planted a bug in…in…in his secretary’s bra!”
“Her bra!” the Russian screeched. The two of them rolled around the booth. Tears started to flow. Composing himself, Dosvidanya managed to ask, “How could you possibly have bugged her bra?”
Hammer touched his nose with one finger. “When she sent it out to be cleaned,” he sniggered.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Dosvidanya boasted with a wave of his hand. “Do you have any idea where our most effective means of listening in on your Ambassador is located?”
Hammer assumed an expression drunks often mistake for innocence. “Nope. No idea. Where?”
The Russian pointed, a bit wobbly, towards his head. “His toupee!” The laughter lasted a quarter of an hour. When it was over, a somewhat chastened Hammer commented, “Of course, our Ambassador was going to be recalled next month. It just hasn’t been announced.”
“Of course,” Dosvidanya somberly agreed. “And, we’ve been planning to strip serach the secretaries of all our Ministers. We’ve just had to wait for the paperwork – you know how slow that can be…”
“From what I heard,” the American told the Russian, “many of your Ministers have already implemented that policy…”
Dosvidanya sniffed. “The zealousness of the Russian bureaucrat for his duty is often noted,” he seriously commented. Then, after a few seconds, he said, “Hammer, we’re old friends. We shouldn’t let a little thing like this spy scandal come between us.”
“I’m sorry, Comrade,” Hammer responded, “but, this has really got me steamed. We bug your Embassy. You seduce our soldiers. It’s all part of the game – everybody does it. Everybody knows everybody does it. I just don’t see any reason why politicians should work themselves up over standard operating procedure.”
“You have no idea?”
“Well, I guess they’re trying to take attention away from their own culpability. They send Marines who couldn’t guard a nude beach to guard an important Embassy overseas, and are embarrassed when the Marines are found at the centre of a spy operation that bugged the entire facility. Instead of accepting blame for the fiasco, they claim that the Russians have gone too far…”
“You would have done exactly the same at our Embassy in Washington if we had let you,” Dosvidanya pointed out.
“What? Oh…exactly…”
“But, isn’t it true that your government is using the scandal as an excuse to poison the upcoming arms talks?”
Hammer thought for a moment. “There may be some hawks in the administration doing that,” he answered, “but, I don’t really think they have enough grey matter…”
“Policy papers?” Dosvidanya asked, confused.
“Brains. I was kind of disappointed when your officials trotted out every bug they found…”
Dosvidanya shrugged. “It is part of Comrade Gorbachev’s new policy of openness. Politicians are the same all over, no?”
“Well, all they’ve done is brought us out into the open. If only they’d leave us alone, we could get on with the game.”
“True.” Pause. “Umm, one thing still intrigues me…”
“What’s that, good buddy?”
“The bugs we found. Did some of them really come from Canada?”
Hammer grinned. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” he stated. “After all, a spy’s gotta keep some secrets.”