The Janson Directive - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,64

back. Do you think any American attache could work as fast?" Andros revealed an even row of sharp-looking, almost feral teeth. "But then if I were you, I'd fret less about the singer and more about the song. You see, they're especially anxious about talking to you because they need you to explain certain matters."

"What matters?"

Andros sighed heavily, theatrically. "Questions have arisen concerning your recent activities that require an immediate explanation." He shrugged. "Look, I know nothing of these matters. I merely repeat lines I have been given, like an aging actor in one of our epitheorisi, our soap operas."

Janson laughed scornfully. "You're lying."

"You're rude."

"There's no way that my former employers would entrust you with such an assignment."

"Because I'm an outheteros? A nonpartisan? But, like you, I have changed. I am a new man."

"You, a new man?" Janson scoffed. "Hardly new. Hardly a man."

Andros stiffened. "Your former employers ... are my present employers."

"Another lie."

"No lie. We Greeks are people of the agora, the marketplace. But you can have no market without competition. Free market, competition - eh? These things that get so much lip service from your politicos. The world has changed a great deal in the past decade. Once, the competition was lively. Now you have the agora to yourself. You own the market, and call it free." He tilted his head. "So what is one to do? My erstwhile Eastern clients open their wallets and only the odd moth nutters out. Their main intelligence concern is about whether there will be enough heating fuel in Moscow this winter. I am a luxury they can no longer afford."

"There are plenty of hard-liners at the KGB who would still value your services."

"What use is a hard-liner without hard currency? There comes a time when one must choose sides, yes? I believe you often said that to me. I chose the side with - what's the charming American expression you have? - the long green."

"That was always your side. Money was your only loyalty."

"It wounds me when you talk that way." He arched his eyebrows. "It makes me feel cheap."

"What game are you running, Andros? You trying to convince people that you're on the U.S. intelligence payroll now?"

The Greek's eyes flashed with anger and disbelief. "You think I would tell my friends that I was doing the work of this warm and fuzzy superpower? You imagine a Greek can boast of such a thing?"

"Why not? Make yourself seem important, like a real player ..."

"No, Paul. It would make me seem like an Americanofilos, a stooge of Uncle Sam."

"And what's so bad about that?"

Andros shook his head pityingly. "From others I might expect such self-delusion. Not from someone as worldly as you. The Greek people do not hate America for what it does. They hate it for what it is. Uncle Sam is loathed here. But perhaps I should not be surprised at your innocence. You Americans have never been able to wrap your minds around anti-Americanism. You so want to be loved that you cannot understand why there is so little love for you. Ask yourself why America is so hated. Or is that beyond you? A man wears big boots and wonders why the ants beneath his feet fear and hate him - he has no such feelings toward them!"

Janson was silent for a moment. If Andros had cemented a relationship with American intelligence, he was not doing so for the bragging rights: that much was true. But how much else was?

"Anyway," Andros went on, "I explained to your old colleagues that you and I had especially cordial relations. An abiding trust and affection established over long years."

That sounded like Andros all right: the glib, at-the-ready lies, the vacant assurances. Janson could well imagine it: if Andros had got wind that a contact was to be made, he might easily decide to angle for the job. Words coming from a trusted friend, Andros would have told the Cons Op liaison officer, are more likely to be received without suspicion.

Janson stared at the Greek interloper and felt a roiling sense of tension. They want you to come in.

But why? Those words were not used lightly among Janson's former employers. They were not words that one could ignore without consequences.

"There's something you're not saying," Janson prodded.

"I've told you what I was instructed to tell you," Andros replied.

"You've told me what you've told me. Now tell me what you haven't."

Andros shrugged. "I hear things."

"What things?"

He shook his head. "I don't work for you.