Jack wanted to avoid explaining his presence at the Metropol and asked the industrialist about his arm.
“I still have it!” He laughed. “Those Finnish doctors are magicians. Strange methods, but magicians.” He clumsily bent his wrist to demonstrate the improvement. “Incidentally, it’s a stroke of luck that you’re here. I’ve been looking for you. Remember Sergei, the Soviet official escorting me on the SS Cliffwood? Well, they’ve promoted him to director of operations, and among other things, he’s responsible for the Avtozavod’s security now. I told him to ask Intourist for your whereabouts, and I was waiting for the results of his inquiries.”
The hair on Jack’s neck stood on end. Any hint that somebody was investigating him put him on the alert. “And what did he find?”
“If you don’t mind, we’ll go to the library. What I have to propose to you isn’t for blurting out in a Soviet ballroom.”
On the fourth sip of strong coffee, Jack began to sober up. But he still couldn’t believe what Hewitt was proposing, so he asked him to repeat it.
“It’s simple,” the industrialist summarized. “If you accept my new offer, I’d be prepared to pay you two hundred dollars a week.”
Jack had to clear his throat when he received confirmation that Hewitt’s proposal hadn’t been a vodka-induced fantasy. He took another sip of coffee and looked at the general manager of the Avtozavod. Eight hundred dollars a month was a Ford Motor Company executive’s salary in the United States.
“For six months. A year at most. Then you can work in a normal role befitting your skills, though still well paid,” the industrialist added.
Jack smiled. He asked Hewitt what the catch was.
“You know what, Jack? That’s exactly what I like about you. You’re smart. And you say things to a man’s face.” He folded the copy of the New York Times he always carried with him and left it on the table. “I’ll be straight with you. I’ve been turning over in my head what we talked about when we were disembarking in Helsinki. What I said about the Russians needing some Americans with guts to─”
“Sure. To get things working once and for all. But I was referring to the job at the factory, to repair the machinery damaged in the storm, and that has nothing to do with what you’re proposing now, sir.”
“Forget that machinery, Jack. I know this has nothing to do with that, but what have you got to lose? I’m just asking you to keep your eyes open for me during your day’s work as an assembly line supervisor.”
“And rat on my fellow Americans?” He was trying to wrap his head around it.
“No. That’s not what I said.”
“You said someone’s been sabotaging production, and you want to offer me a job as a front to find out who’s behind it.”
“But I didn’t say the perpetrators were American. I just pointed out that the Soviets will blame anyone to hide their incompetence. Most likely, it’s Russian operatives unhappy with the working conditions. It might be that, or it may simply have been a succession of accidents. And I wouldn’t agree with your description of your position as a front, either, considering that your technical skills will be essential to uncovering the cause of the damage.”
Jack looked at Hewitt. Eight hundred dollars a month was a lot of money. Perhaps it was too much.
“I doubt you’d offer me a chunk of change like that”—he served himself some more coffee while he weighed up what he should say—“if it didn’t come with risks.”
Hewitt raised an eyebrow.
“It’s like anything in life. You can’t get the best views unless you climb the mountain.”
“And what if they rat me out?”
“Who?”
“The Soviets.”
“Well, let’s be straight. You’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen. The Soviets don’t usually mess around.” He paused. “But don’t worry. Nobody will know you’re tasked with investigating the incidents, and obviously you won’t be stupid enough to go around telling people. And anyway, when there’s an accident at the factory, they blame the inefficiency of the American equipment, the American workers, or the American procedures. If they suspect anything untoward, they arrest someone, interrogate him, and let him go, but they don’t want to hear any talk about sabotage that would prove the existence of anti-Soviet groups. Henry Ford thinks differently, which is why he’s entrusted me to get the Gorky factory up and running at full capacity. That’s why I’m in Russia, and why I’m offering you so much money.”
Jack drank from his cup again. He couldn’t think clearly. “And if I don’t find anything?”
“That’s a risk I have to take. We’re all taking risks here, Jack. Your risk is being uncovered. My risk is you finding nothing and me wasting money.”
“I see.” Jack pursed his lips. Hewitt seemed honest in his proposal, but Jack couldn’t understand why he was entrusting such an important task to a virtual stranger. When he asked him why, the industrialist was pretty explicit.
“You really want to know? Well, because I have no goddamned choice, son.” Hewitt admitted that he had lined up an engineer in the United States for the job but, just before the SS Cliffwood had set sail, he’d suddenly fallen ill. “Appendicitis, I believe. In fact, George McMillan should be sitting where you are right now, and I should be talking to him, not you. Luckily, you showed up. And not only did you save my arm, but you’re also bright, know the Ford machinery like the back of your hand, and speak Russian. I couldn’t have found a more ideal candidate had I tried!”
Jack tapped his fingers on the table. He didn’t know how to respond. It may have been the effect of the vodka, but he couldn’t see things clearly. It was too unexpected. There were too many factors. Too much money.
“I don’t know, Mr. Hewitt. I’d need some time to think about it.” He got up and held out his hand.
“Of course, kid! No problem. You take your time. If you want, we can meet again tomorrow.”
“Yes, all right, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” He squeezed Jack’s hand and returned his good-bye. “Hey! Now I think of it, where are you staying?”
“A guesthouse. Well, in reality it’s a tenement house, it’s—”
“Would you like to stay here?”
“Pardon me, sir?”
“I’m asking if you’d like to stay here, at the Metropol. McMillan’s room was paid for in advance, and it’s still available. You could have it, free of charge.”
“But . . . I . . .”
“Oh, come on, kid! Don’t be daft! Sleeping on a soft mattress won’t commit you to anything. See it as a gift for having heard me out, and tomorrow morning we’ll talk over breakfast.”