Chapters (111)
- Cubierta
- Agent 6
- 1950
- Moscow
- Moscow
- Moscow
- Same Day
- Moscow
- Moscow
- Moscow
- Moscow
- FIFTEEN YEARS LATER
- Moscow
- Next Day
- Manhattan
- Airspace over New York City
- Manhattan
- Manhattan
- New Jersey
- Bradhurst
- Manhattan
- Bradhurst
- Same Day
- Same Day
- Same Day
- Manhattan
- Same Day
- Manhattan
- Moscow
- Manhattan
- Moscow
- Manhattan
- Same Day
- Manhattan
- Bradhurst
- Manhattan
- Harlem
- Manhattan
- Manhattan
- Same Day
- Same Day
- Global Travel Company
- Manhattan
- Manhattan
- Manhattan
- Manhattan
- Harlem
- ONE WEEK LATER
- USSR
- Moscow
- Same Day
- EIGHT YEARS LATER
- Soviet–Finnish Border
- SEVEN YEARS LATER
- Greater Province of Kabul
- Greater Province of Kabul
- Greater Province of Kabul
- Greater Province of Kabul
- Greater Province of Kabul
- Headquarters of the 40th Army
- Greater Province of Kabul
- Greater Province of Kabul
- Greater Province of Kabul
- Kabul Province
- Greater Province of Kabul
- Greater Province of Kabul
- Greater Province of Kabul
- Same Day
- Greater Province of Kabul
- The Border of Laghman and
- Greater Province of Kabul
- The Road from Kabul to Jalalabad
- The Border of Laghman and
- Village of Sau
- Same Day
- Same Day
- Same Day
- Same Day
- Nangarhar Province
- Next Day
- Same Day
- Same Day
- Same Day
- Hindu Kush Mountain Range
- Same Day
- Pakistan
- Next Day
- Same Day
- SIX MONTHS LATER
- Manhattan
- Bradhurst
- New York City
- Same Day
- Same Day
- Washington DC
- Same Day
- Harlem
- Harlem
- New Jersey
- New Jersey
- Same Day
- Same Day
- Same Day
- New York City
- ONE MONTH LATER
- Soviet Airspace above Moscow
- Moscow
- Same Day
- Next Day
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Autor
—Sure, she was just in here.
—No, young as in eighteen years, something like that.
—I’m not sure. I don’t think so. Maybe she used the other elevator.
The doors opened. Yates stepped out, frustrated with the lack of urgency in his colleagues. Their minds were dulled by the fact that they were dealing with cute kids, too angelic to be up to anything. Yates had been adamant fromthe momentthe trip was announced that the Soviets were going to find a way to exploit the opportunity. He approached the ornate double doors to the ballroom. They were closed, a sign claiming the room was undergoing extensive renovation. He took out his key, unlocking the heavy doors, stepping inside the cavernous ballroom.
Over thirty desks were set up, stretching the length of the room, scores of officers seated with headphones scribbling notes. Every room occupied by the Soviet delegation had been bugged with multiple devices in the ceilings of the bedroom and bathroom, the walk-in cupboards – ensuring no area where conversations could take place in private. The televisions had proved divisive. Yates had thought them a risk since the occupants could use the sound to mask their conversations. He didn’t see the value in exposing the students to cartoons, pop music and adverts. He’d been overruled. The televisions had been rigged, providing a bombardment of images projecting a lifestyle that Yates’s superiors wanted to trickle back to the Soviet Union, a message of abundance and comfort. As a concession Yates had managed to ensure that the sets were fixed with a volume control so that they could never be loud enough to hide a conversation.
Each room had been designated two translators working twelve-hour shifts. Dialogue was recorded but to provide immediate feedback the team would translate in real time, jotting in shorthand. Anything of importance was immediately flagged up. Otherwise the translator would type up their notes during the downtime, when the students and teachers were outside, or sleeping. The operation was so large that the FBI had drawn together the highest concentration of Russian linguists in the country.