A Very British Ending (Catesby Series) (21 page)

FURIOSO was the SIS code name for the most powerful person in the CIA. His official title was Associate Deputy Director of Operations for Counter-intelligence, usually acronymed to ADDOCI. The problem with FURIOSO was his self-belief in his intellectual superiority. Catesby knew that the American was bright and refined. FURIOSO spoke several languages and had written poetry in French while still a teenager. Catesby had once asked to see some of the poetry, FURIOSO responded with disdain: ‘I don’t think you would understand it.’ The American had also been a friend of Ezra Pound. Catesby wondered if their friendship had survived Pound’s trial for treason as the result of his propaganda broadcasts for Mussolini.

Catesby regarded FURIOSO as a dangerous chemical. The American became an even more deadly poison when mixed with others who shared his obsessions. FURIOSO’s alliance with Ferret was a marriage made in hell – and the arrival of EMPUSA on the scene created a
ménage à trois
blessed by the leaping imps of Pandemonium. EMPUSA wasn’t a fake defector; he was a self-promoting charlatan looking for patrons and audiences – and he found the ultimate patron in FURIOSO.

Catesby wasn’t certain who had chosen the defector’s SIS code name, but it was perfect. In Greek mythology, Empusa was a spectre sent to guard roads, but who preferred eating travellers. In modern Greece, Empusa is a shape-shifting troll who pesters Greek shepherds in the form of a dog. But the Eastern European EMPUSA was a more modern version. He wanted to be a Western celebrity who hobnobbed with presidents and royalty.

Catesby cooed back at the nearest pigeon, ‘Wouldn’t you like to eat some yum-yum cake at the Queen’s garden party?’ The one thing that ‘walk-ins’ from the East Bloc always wanted in exchange for secret intelligence was to meet the Queen. ‘Your Majesty, may I introduce you to Sergei. He was a cipher clerk
at the Soviet embassy in Prague and would like to tell you what General Zhukov had for breakfast.’ Their exaggerated sense of self-importance was tedious. In fact, it wasn’t easy to defect and most would-be defectors who turned up at embassies were turned away. The answer they usually got was: ‘Listen, you can help us more if you stay in place as a double agent and pass on new information.’ But oh no, they didn’t want to do that. Staying in place was dangerous. They wanted Western glitter and they wanted it now. Catesby turned to the pigeon, ‘No Sasha, you’re not going to Buck House. We don’t want you to shit on the tablecloth – fly back to Warsaw. And the fact that you are the last of the Romanovs doesn’t matter. Who isn’t?’

EMPUSA, however, had managed to push his way past the gatekeepers and was now listened to at the highest levels. An SIS colleague, who had met him briefly, described EMPUSA as ‘unpleasant and egotistical’ – characteristics that would prove far less of a disadvantage in Washington than London. Maybe, thought Catesby, we should pay less attention to manners. Catesby put his finger through the cage and the bird gave it a slight nibble, almost a kiss. He wondered what would happen to the pigeons when they moved to Lambeth – and whether Gerald was still looking after Hermann.

Catesby admired birds and other animals. They just built their nests and got on with their lives. They didn’t worry about dying or anything else.

Agency News London:
14 February 1963

Harold Wilson is new Labour leader

The Parliamentary Labour Party has elected Harold Wilson by a vote of 144 to 103 to succeed Hugh Gaitskell who died suddenly last month.

Wilson defeated deputy leader George Brown, who was also temporary leader following Gaitskell’s death. Brown stood for a continuation of Gaitskell’s policies. In the first round of voting, the Gaitskellite vote was split by the candidacy of James Callaghan, who is also on the right wing of the party.

A former Bevanite, Harold Wilson resigned from the cabinet of Clement Attlee in 1951 on the issue of prescription charges in the National Health Service. Wilson, as the most credible alternative leader for the Left, stood for the party leadership in a 1960 challenge to Hugh Gaitskell. In that election he received 81 votes (35.37%).

Wilson was the only one of the three leadership candidates with cabinet experience.

Pimlico, London:
14 February 1963

Catesby was pleased with the leadership election result. Politics was about the art of the possible and Wilson was the only candidate from the so-called left of the Labour Party who had a chance of unifying the party and winning a general election. But he also knew that Wilson’s election was going to cause disruption and trouble. The Americans hated him and the British establishment regarded him as an outsider. Catesby knew there had been anti-Wilson plots in the past – the CIA men in London, and they were all men, had conspired against him and in favour of Gaitskell. But now that Wilson was Labour leader and odds-on-favourite for next prime minister, the plots were going to turn ugly and malicious.

As a grammar school boy who had been to Oxbridge, Catesby
knew what Wilson had been through – and knew it was probably much worse than he had experienced. Catesby had the advantage of being a native East Anglian at Cambridge – and his fluency in French and
Nederlands
had made him stand out against the toffs who were lesser linguists. Catesby defied the grammar school stereotypes, but Harold Wilson fulfilled them all. He was unabashedly Yorkshire and ended up in Jesus, the most unfashionable of all Oxford colleges. Wilson was exactly the sort of bookish Northern grammar school lad that the Bullingdon Club toffs delighted in mocking and throwing in fountains. And Catesby knew that Wilson in response would have built up a defensive carapace of cocky, but brittle, self-assurance. Wilson’s problem was that he represented the people of Britain, regional and unfashionable, rather than the smart ruling elite. Even though Wilson was seven years younger, Catesby felt he was an older brother who wanted to protect him from bullies.

Washington:
20 February 1963

As Chief of Counter-intelligence, Angleton was the only officer, other than the DCI himself, who had access to the Director’s Log. Angleton had been added to the Director’s Log distribution list by Allen Dulles who was very impressed by his ‘astute intelligence and perceptivity’. Unfortunately for Angleton, Dulles had been sacked following the Bay of Pigs fiasco – for which Dulles was largely responsible – and replaced by a shrewd businessman. The new DCI wasn’t particularly pleased with Angleton’s special status, but realised he was dealing with a dark prince who ruled a powerful fiefdom – and, as a shrewd businessman, the DCI thought the best tactic was to give Angleton enough rope to hang himself. It eventually happened, but long after the shrewd businessman had departed. FURIOSO was as mad and tenacious as his code name persona.

FROM OSO LONDON (ATTN: ADDOCI)

SM/DOGGED is now our most valuable asset in the British Security Service. DOGGED is very concerned about the
recent death of Hugh Gaitskell and his replacement as Labor leader by Harold Wilson, who represents the far left socialist wing of the party. SM/DOGGED also reminds us that Wilson made several trips to Moscow as Minister of Trade in the late 1940s and was responsible for selling the Rolls-Royce jet engines to the Soviet Union which later powered the MiG-15. After resigning from the Labor government in 1951 – following a bitter and personal argument with Gaitskell over Britain’s socialist health service – Wilson became director of an import/export company that bases all its business on trade with the Soviet Union. During his many trips to Moscow, Wilson has formed close friendships with Anastas Mikoyan, Vyacheslav Molotov and Andrei Gromyko.

Angleton leaned back and lit another cigarette. He remembered what he used to tell Allen Dulles: ‘If you don’t always –
always
– fear the worst, you shouldn’t be a counter-intelligence officer.’ The problem was that too many of his colleagues didn’t always fear the worst. And not all of them were big fans of AE/TANGO’s dire warnings. TANGO had, in fact, predicted the current scenario when they had lunch at Harvey’s. Angleton went back to the Director’s Log.

SM/DOGGED has signalled further concerns about the nature of Hugh Gaitskell’s sudden death. Not long after his patient’s death, Gaitskell’s doctor contacted the Security Service. The doctor was very concerned about the cause of death. Systemic lupus erythematosus is an autoimmune disease that is extremely rare in Northern Europe. The occurrence of the disease is mostly confined to women of child-bearing age in tropical Africa. The doctor estimates the total number of cases in Europe as less than ten.

Angleton smiled.
Always
fear the worst. He felt a glowing sense of pride as he stared through the haze of smoke at the Manet, on loan from a banker friend, framed on his office wall. Counter-espionage was like appreciating Impressionist art. On one hand,
the painting captures the image as a rapid passing glimpse. On the other hand, the pictures can be blindingly bright and vibrant. The situation in England was both: subtle and glaring. He went back to the log.

SM/DOGGED confirms that Gaitskell has not recently, and perhaps never, made a trip to tropical Africa. Gaitskell had, however, been planning a trip to Moscow at the end of January to meet Khrushchev. One month before he died, Gaitskell had visited the Soviet consulate in London to obtain a visa for the trip. Despite his status, Gaitskell was kept waiting a long time at the consulate while his visa was processed. During that time Gaitskell was served tea and biscuits. SM/DOGGED is now making enquiries at Porton Down, the British Defense Department’s biological warfare center, to see how it would be possible to poison someone with a fatal dose of lupus.

Angleton made a note in his diary:
Arrange urgent meeting with AE/TANGO about Line F’s bio-chemical capabilities for assassination.
He had found out from TANGO how a KGB hit man had used radioactive thallium to murder the anti-Communist Ukrainian writer Lev Rebet in Munich in 1957. A lethal dose had been sprayed in his face with the type of atomiser commonly used by asthma sufferers. A pellet to induce lupus might be more sophisticated, but always assume the worst.

Angleton looked at the clock. It was past eleven o’clock and time for a pre-prandial drink. He went to the hospitality cabinet and poured himself a JD without ice or water. Philby’s defection to Moscow – now certain – was another brush stroke that began as faint, almost invisible, and then burst into colour and brightness like a Monet sunrise. Angleton now regretted not having ordered a ‘wet op’ on his former friend, one false-flagged as a KGB assassination. Philby’s treachery was a personal blow and slap in the face – and proved that no one could be trusted. But how did it fit in with Wilson and Gaitskell’s murder? Philby must have known that he had been finally and positively identified as
a Soviet agent. Could it be that Moscow feared that Philby would crack under interrogation and tell the truth about the conspiracy to put Wilson in power? And who in SIS had been responsible for letting Philby escape? What a pity that SM/HOUND had retired from SIS – or had he been forced out? HOUND had been CIA’s only eye and ear in SIS. Angleton went to the safe and got the file for SM/HOUND. The tribute from a powerful friend of America’s was glowing:
X is a noble warrior in the fight against Communism. When there is a crisis, he acts decisively and takes risks. He is willing to stand alone for a friend when everyone else has deserted that friend. X is not afraid of making enemies in the fight for freedom.
Angleton made an action note in the Director’s Log:
To OSO London from ADDOCI: Make immediate clandestine contact with SM/HOUND and tell him that we offer full support.

Hampstead Garden Suburb, London:
28 February 1963

Catesby thought it was ironic, but totally coincidental, that Hugh Gaitskell’s former GP lived two streets away from Harold Wilson. The first news that rumours were circulating about Gaitskell’s death came from Frances. Ferret didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut – a big problem for a rogue agent in a security service. It also didn’t take long for the Gaitskell assassination rumours to reach the ear of Henry Bone who immediately summoned Catesby and gave him the assignment.

‘Tell him,’ said Bone, ‘that you’re a journalist – or at least give him that impression.’

‘Should I talk “Sarf Lunnon”?’

‘Perhaps, but don’t overdo it.’

‘Actually,’ said Catesby, ‘this door-stepping stuff under journo cover might be a bit below my dignity. Aren’t I supposed to be getting an OBE in a month or two?’

Bone nodded. ‘And, please Catesby, don’t do your “Sarf Lunnon” routine with the Queen – or be chewing gum when you go to the podium.’

‘I never chew gum. It pulls out my NHS fillings.’

‘Good.’

The doctor’s house was similar to Wilson’s, but not as large. Catesby was wearing a trilby and looking Fleet Street scruffy in a stained mac. The doctor didn’t invite him into the house or seem very happy to see him.

‘I cannot answer any questions regarding patient confidentiality.’

‘I fully appreciate that, but Mr Gaitskell was a very famous patient.’

‘Fame does not make an exception to patient confidentiality.’

‘But listen, doctor, I know what us lot are like. Have any other newspaper types been sniffing around?’ Catesby smiled. ‘We like to know who else is on the case so we can throw a spanner between their legs.’

The GP gave a weary sigh. ‘I have been pestered – and, I assure you, I sent them away with fleas in their ears.’

Catesby looked at the doctor and dropped his wide-boy manner and voice. ‘Were they journalists?’

The doctor looked thoughtful and seemed less hostile. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Okay, I’ll tell you what I know. I know that Hugh Gaitskell died of an autoimmune disease called systemic lupus erythematosus – and that is a very rare illness in the UK. I’m not going to ask you any questions about Mr Gaitskell, but can you tell me anything about that form of lupus?’