Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

It was early in the morning and Walter was heading down to the hotel bar with practically a skip in his step. Today was the day of the match, but before hand there was a whole other chess game to play. A chess game where he was the master, he and Molokov. And if everything played to plan, Walter would be the official winner...but his Russian counterpart wouldn't be leaving the table empty handed.

Speaking of his Russian counterpart, Walter spotted him at the end of the bar and threw his sunglasses down on the table before sitting on the stool beside him and ordering a coffee. "Good Morning." He said in a very chipper and confident voice.

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"You are cheerful this morning, comrade," Molokov muttered dourly as he stared into his cup, willing the caffeine to hurry its way through his veins. It was a little, rarely-indulged ritual of his to linger over a cup of coffee in the morning and he resented any intrusion, no matter how necessary it was.

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"It's a lovely morning in Bangkok and there's a game to play. Why shouldn't I be cheerful?" Walter smiled as his coffee was served and he poured in milk and sugar, just like any American. He did love his job and he couldn't wait to get going, bald complications aside.

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"Our game," Molokov murmured, his expression lightening as he contemplated the moves to be made. It was only a fool who thought the game was happening on the chessboard. No, the real game, the only game was played between countries, with people as the pieces.

"We are... agreed on the course we must take?"

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"Precisely." It was chess on an epic scale that Sergievsky, Trumper and Vassey would never have understood. How could he not be excited?

"And of course. Though yesterday you implied you had some information for me. Something regarding the lovely Miss Florence."

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"Ah yes, the lovely Miss Florence," Molokov repeated, careful to disguise the utter hatred the very sound of her name inspired in him. "I have been informed that her dear father, for so long thought to be dead, is in fact alive in prison."

He paused to take a sip of his coffee. "We are willing to entertain a deal for his release."

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Molokov may have disguised it but Walter knew it was there. She wasn't his favorite person either. But this...this was interesting, even if it was in her benefit. He cocked his head curiously. "Really? After 30 years in prison?"

This would make his job so much easier. Even if it wasn't true. "The terms the same as for my agents?"

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"There is one additional request," Molokov answered, bending his head close to de Courcey's. As an additional precaution, he switched to Spanish. It wasn't likely they'd be overheard - he had put agents around to be sure of that fact (and likely, his counterpart had too) - but it was the principle of the thing. An incautious spy was a dead spy, and he planned to be around for a long time. There was great work to be done, after all.

"Sergievsky." He paused for a moment, unable to resist letting Walter wonder if there was going to be shooting and paperwork involved after all. "He must lose the match to your Trumper. If he does this, then Miss Vassy's father and your men will be released."

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Walter only nodded, his smirk returning after it had momentarily faltered when the thought that Molokov wanted to shoot Sergievsky as part of the deal did pass his mind. His Spanish was effortless as he replied, "Of course. Mother Russia wanting to save face?" He paused for a moment, taking a long drink of coffee as he considered all the possibilities. "Trumper will be pleased. And I'm sure Sergievsky will gladly lose if it means returning Miss Vassey's father to her. What of the wife? Do you still plan on using her?"

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Molokov nodded, entirely too pleased at the prospect. "Of course. We must not waste any opportunity here. Our errant grandmaster must return home where he belongs, that is all there is to it. I am sure his wife will be very happy to have him home as well. She will help us, I am certain. I will suggest things - they may even be true."

He motioned for a refill of his coffee and once the waitress had sidled away, he continued. "And you. You will speak to Miss Vassey?"

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At the idea of suggesting 'things' Walter just chuckled, shook his head and took a drink of coffee. He could only imagine what those things would be but it didn't matter. As long as they had the wife on their side.

"Don't worry about Ms. Vassey, or Mr. Trumper for that matter. I'll take care of it." Then Walter cupped his coffee between his hands, getting serious for a moment. "Now...what do we do about our new interloper? I've had my agents digging all night and so far they've found nothing on him. He told Trumper a name...Lex Luthor."

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The name meant nothing to Molokov, which was slightly worrying but he shrugged the thought aside. He had dealt with unknowns before, with unerring precision when the occasion called for it. This Luthor was no match for a KGB agent and a CIA agent working together in perfect harmony.

"You know what my answer is. I still stand by it."

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"No shooting anyone. Some how, I don't think Mother Russia wants to cover up anything more then influencing the results of a simple Chess game." Not that there was anything simple about this particular chess game but the sentiment was the same. Not that anything was going to go wrong of course? How could one man change their perfect plan? Perfect, if Walter could keep a reign on his trigger happy counterpart.

Then he shrugged. "Of course, on the slim chance this Luthor succeeds...I'll help you hide the body."

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After he parted from Walter, his first order of business was to pay a visit to Sergievsky's estranged wife. There was no doubt in his mind that she would help them. She had no other choice if she wished to keep her home and children.

No, this would be an easy sell. She had the difficult part, convincing Anatoly, but he knew the man well. His guilt was already eating at him. An hour with her and he would fall, as he always had before. There could be no other outcome.

He straightened his jacket before knocking on the door. "Comrade Sergievsky. Let me in." He paused then added as a courtesy. "Please."

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Svetlana had barely slept a wink last night. She knew why she was here, what Comrade Molokov wanted her to do, what she /needed/ to do for herself and her children. It still didn't sit well with her so she was already up, ready and pacing in her room when the knock came. She closed her eyes, steeled herself and then went to open the door.

"Comrade Molokov." She said politely as she opened the door to let him in. "I've been expecting you."

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Molokov smiled at her, pleased to hear that she had been waiting. She was a smart, clever girl, really. It was a pity she'd married a man so difficult to handle as Sergievsky. Genius he might be, she could have much better.

He strode into the room as if it were his own, then sat down in the most comfortable chair, not bothering to wait for an invitation. "Please, Svetlana. Sit. We have much to discuss."

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She was smart and clever and thought she could handle a grandmaster in his prime. How could Svetlana have predicted what would actually happen?

Grimacing at the smile on the man she despised as she shut the door, her calm face was back in place when she turned back to him and took a seat near him, but far enough away that she didn't feel crowded by him. He was rather good at it. Arranging her skirts, she gave him a considering look. "Yes I suppose we do. "

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"I suppose you miss your husband very much," Molokov began, keeping his tone light and pleasant, as if he was a cherished confidant. "And you would like to see him come home, yes?"

He continued, not waiting for an affirmation. It wasn't as if her answer particularly mattered. "We too, would like to see him return home where he belongs. You will help us make sure this happens."

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Molokov knew exactly how Svetlana felt about her husband and she didn't appreciate the fake pleasantries. She knew why she was here, she didn't need it sugar coated. Especially when wanting her husband home was a dream she'd given up on a long time ago. Now she just wanted to be free.

Her voice was firm and cool as she replied, "I know why I'm here Comrade. I'll speak to my husband. But as I told you in beginning, I doubt anything I say will matter. It never has."

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Molokov frowned, not appreciating her tone. By all rights, she and her children should be languishing in prison for Anatoly's defection. His intervention was the only thing keeping them out. She could be a little more grateful to him for that.

"You will convince him," he said emphatically. "Your comfortable life for you and your children depend on it. Remind him where his duty lies. Make certain he understands what will happen if he doesn't. I think, Svetlana, you can be very convincing when you want to be. In fact, I am absolutely sure of it."

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As far as Svetlana was concerned, she and her children had done nothing wrong and that was the reason they weren't in prison. Not that she would ever say it of course. She was smarter then that. But this whole situation was frustrating and she couldn't help her tone.

"I will do my very best Mr. Molokov...though I do not appreciate the insinuation." She did have her pride after all. It was one of the few things she did have left. "I will convince him."

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Molokov stood gracefully, straightening his jacket. "I am so very glad we understand each other. I have every bit of faith that you will make our country proud."

She would have to be watched, of course, but he was assured that she would do her job. He took her hand and kissed it, knowing she would hate his presumption. "Good evening, my dear. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call."

He shot her a pleasant smile then turned to leave, feeling quite satisfied.

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It took everything Svetlana had not to flinch when Molokov kissed her hand and she didn't bother to stand as he moved to leave.

Of course, once he had a hand on the door, she asked in a steady voice, "Who was he...the man from the interview?"

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"A close personal friend of your husband's," Molokov answered so smoothly that only a trained operative could tell he truly had no idea at all. "I think you know the type, hmm? He has lost his way, so far from his loving wife. Help him remember."

He left, without waiting for an answer. There was more work to be done.

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Svetlana didn't even notice him leaving, as she was in shock. She knew about the other women...Molokov had made sure of that. But a man...

She would do what Molokov asked. Get Anatoly to lose and come home. To Russia as was her duty. But she wasn't sure she could stand him in her home anymore. Not after this betrayal.

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There was almost a skip in his step as Walter walked down the hallway of the hotel, looking for the room number he'd charmed out of the receptionist. Despite the fact that Ms. Vassey hadn't slept in the room she shared with Sergievsky, Walter wasn't at all worried. The bait he had to dangle was too good for her to ignore and thus, the plan would go accordingly. The more pressure on Sergievsky the better.

He knocked on the door and resisted the urge to whistle as he waited for Florence to answer.

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Florence sighed in annoyance as she registered the knock on the door. Was it too much for her to not be disturbed as she had specially requested? Apparently so.

"Just a moment," she called as she crossed over to the door and peered through the peephole. As if the day couldn't get spectacularly worse, here was Walter. God only knew what he wanted.

She opened the door, not bothering to hide her displeasure. "Can I help you?"

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Walter grinned at her and put his hand on the open door, in a casual leaning pose despite the fact it was engineered to keep the door open in case she tried to close it on him. "Now now, Ms. Vassey. Is that any way to treat the bearer of good news? I thought for sure at least a 'good morning' was in order."

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"Spare me the platitudes, Walter, I'm busy. What do you want?" Florence crossed her arms, clearly showing she was in no mood for his nonsense.

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"Your father is alive." Walter said, not phased at all by her harsh tone, as his easy smile made clear. "30 years alive and well in Russia."

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She stared at him in shock, hardly daring to believe her ears. Alive? She'd heard nothing of his fate for years, and now, all of a sudden, here was news, and good tidings at that!

She wanted so desperately to believe Walter, even as she knew there had to be more to the story than that. "Alive. Really. How do you know?"

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"I have conclusive evidence. And a deal to get him out with a few of my men. I just need a little help from you and everything will be set." Walter said easily as he leaned against the door frame.

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Of course there was a catch, and of course deals were involved. "How convenient," Florence said flatly. "I haven't heard anything about him in years and now, all of a sudden, here he is? What conclusive evidence do you have, Walter? Pictures? Word of mouth from the so honorable and trustworthy Molokov?"

She glared at him, longing to give him a good hard slap across the cheek. He was lying, he had to be, but all the same, some sense of masochism compelled to ask what he wanted of her. "And how am I supposed to help?"

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"We were surprised as well!" Walter said, his expression as genuine as they come. "But when he showed up on the list of names they were willing to trade, we weren't going to question it. I can show you if you like" He paused before adding almost off hand, "We'd really like to move him to the top of the list, but that depends on you."

When she asked, Walter just smiled his most charming smile. "It's simple. Anatoly has to lose. The Russian are offerings us a great deal just to save face."

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Politics. It always came down to politics and saving face, and Florence had had quite enough of it all. She slapped Walter hard across the face, shaking with rage.

"Get out, Walter. You're a damned fool if you think for one moment they're telling the truth. There's no deal."

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Walter stretched his jaw for a moment, rubbing the back of hand against where she'd hit him. But he didn't stop smiling. He just shrugged. "Think about it Ms. Vassey. I put the offer on the table, it's up to you to take it." He moved backwards out of the doorway and added as a parting shot before letting the door close behind him, "I could get another one of my men back instead. Remember that."

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As Molokov methodically searched the hotel for the mysterious Mr. Luthor, he couldn't help but think Walter had the better end of the deal. He only had to talk to Ms. Vassey; it would be an easy task to cajole her into doing what they wanted. Luthor would be an entirely different matter.

He found his quarry in the lobby heading over, giving him his best warm and friendly smile. "Mr. Luthor. Might I have a word with you?"

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Mr. Luthor had left Anatoly to practice and had gone on a fact finding mission to better access the situation. He would have preferred to do this last night and already have a game plan formulated, but Anatoly had needed him and there was no where else Lex could have thought to be. So here he was, asking probing questions of the reporters who flocked in the lobby and were all to willing to talk about the comings and goings of anyone involved with the match. And he was good enough at talking to their type to let nothing slip, while letting them think they had a new angle on the story.

This was almost fun without his father judging his every move.

He'd just finished with a pair of perky French reporters when he spotted Molokov walking over and Lex gave him his best professional smile. He was almost excited at the prospect of going up against this man...and crushing him horribly. "Of course Mr. Molokov. How may I be of assistance?"

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It was almost a pity that the upstart was an American. Had he been born a Russian, he could have done great things for his country, Molokov thought as he watched him handle the reporters with finesse and skill. Not that it mattered, he still would have been a rival and they still would have clashed. And he still would be soundly defeated. There was no other way.

"It is a delicate situation," Molokov answered, smiling much like a shark. "Perhaps we could talk somewhere privately."

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"Oh it is a delicate situation indeed but I don't feel a need for privacy. Anatoly is simply here to play chess. What game are you playing, Mr. Molokov?" Lex asked with an exaggerated cock of his head and a small crooked smirk as he made it clear that he didn't really want to go anywhere with him. He learned from history that you don't go anywhere alone with the KGB.

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"This has nothing to do with Mr. Sergievsky," Molokov said, annoyed that he would have to do this out in the open, though he was careful to keep that from showing. "Or it does, perhaps, but not in the way you are thinking. Such a suspicious mind you have, Mr. Luthor. I would never play games with people's lives, especially not Anatoly's dear beloved Miss Vassey's father."

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"Oh I know exactly what your thinking. Politics. You brought the wife to throw Anatoly off and now your going to put pressure on Florence by offering her father back. Well, I know better then to think someone could survive 30 years in a Russian prison, so I want proof. Irrefutable concrete evidence that Mr. Vassy is alive...or if your just bluffing which I think you are." Lex raised an curious eyebrow but his smirk remained.

"And unlike you, this is just about Mr. Sergievsky for me. Or more, protecting him from your games." Lex knew it was dangerous to give away so much of his game plan but he wanted this to be clear to Molokov.

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They were in public, Molokov reminded himself through the red haze. They were in public and he could not shoot this upstart American brat, no matter how much he wanted to.

"How very American," he managed to say, forcing a smile. "Projecting all kinds of tricks and delusions of conspiracy on a simple gesture of goodwill and trust. If that is your line... well. I know Anatoly very well, much better than you, and he is not so hard-hearted as that."

He paused, spreading his hands in resignation, knowing a lost battle when he saw one. He had to hope that Walter would be more successful with Florence, as much as it galled him. "This is a game, a minor game at that. If he prefers this to take precedence over people, then I suppose it is his choice. He is the one who will have to live with it, not I."

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"You claim I am making up conspiracy and then you go on to state that Anatoly has to choose between a game and the people he cares about. So which is it, Mr. Molokov? Conspiracy or a true plot to make Anatoly loose?" Lex cocked his head, in mock curiosity.

Then he just laughed. "Go ahead. Try and get Anatoly to believe you. I find it will be a harder sell then you think." Lex hoped he was there when Molokov tried. It would be laugh worthy indeed.

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"I am stating nothing but the facts," Molokov said, a trace of anger evident in his voice. "Take it however you choose. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have urgent matters to attend to."

How he hated crawling away, but there was nothing else he could do. Luthor was clearly not budging, and he had no leverage to use against the man. Oh, he would find something, no doubt, but he didn't have to time to wait. No, he had to trust in Walter now, and hope for the best.

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