Debut for a Spy (5 page)

“
Mr. Nalishkin wants to see if we become – ah, compatible? Is this a good word?”

“
That word is fine,” I said with a grin. “But it brings up a question, doesn't it? How do we find out if we're compatible?”

“
Perhaps we think about it most carefully and we find a way,” she bantered. “You are a man good with puzzles, yes?”

“
Sometimes, but I guess it depends on how compatible we're trying to be,” I joshed. “The word has different interpretations.”

I looked around at the band, still on break, and even though they were out of earshot many were looking our way. I couldn't blame them, with such a beautiful lady in view. I spoke again.

“Considering our surroundings, perhaps we could continue this discussion in a more convenient location. That would be a good way to test our compatibility. Can I give you a rain check?”

“
I might, if it became in my interest,” she teased. “But first, what is this rain check?”

I explained, unable to keep the smile off my face, and it was returned with that wonderful warmth I had seen earlier.

“Then I am… how you say it?... Letting you… ah… off the hook, yes? And I am happy for accept your rain check.”

Marijke looked at me, and the gentle smile appeared again.

“I think I like you, David Baird.”

Once again I was nonplussed, and thankful when Archie reappeared a moment later.

“How are you two getting along? I hope you haven't done anything to upset Miss Templaars, David, or she's likely to withdraw the invitation for the band to visit Moscow.”

Archie turned to Marijke with a wicked grin.
“Has he been behaving himself, Miss Templaars? You never know with these ruddy colonials.”

Archie chuckled, I grinned foolishly, and Marijke smiled that enigmatic smile.

“Oh yes, Colonel Mowatt, David is being a perfect gentlemen. Now I am certain I ask for him.”

She turned with that remark, and as she began to walk away she glanced at me and touched my arm. Archie and I both stared after her for a moment before he spoke.

“Well, lad, you seem to have made quite an impression on the lady. That shouldn't bother you at all, should it?”

“
Miss Templaars seems delightful, Archie, but I think I'm going to be up to my ears with the show for quite a while. Unless I'm very mistaken, this is one lady who is deserving of much more consideration than I'll be able to give for some time.”

Archie looked at me quizzically.

“That doesn't sound like the David Baird who used to tear up London with House Paynter when he should have been doing his harmony. I mus' be gettin' old. Ach, weel, we've got to get on wi' the rehearsal. I'll see you in a wee while for lunch.”

Archie swung in and out of the Scots vernacular as the mood struck him. He could pass for a
Sassenach
, as the Scots referred to the English, without the slightest difficulty. He was about to leave when I remembered Colonel Hammond.

“
Archie, I need a favor. I must make a very private call to London. Do you think I could use the phone in your office?”

“
Of course, lad. Just go up and see Miss Lanktree and tell her I said it was all right.”

I was just reaching the door when I heard the opening chords of
Finlandia
as the rehearsal got under way, and in a few minutes I was safely seated in Archie's chair. I reached for my wallet, extracted the number Hammond had given me, and dialed as I had been directed.

“
Selfridge's, good morning,” said a voice.

“
Sorry, wrong number,” I replied, “I'll dial again.”

I stayed on the line for several minutes, hearing clicks every now and then. Then a different voice.

“State your name, please.”

“
David Baird.”

A few more clicks. A female voice.

“Captain Baird, where are you calling from?”

“
From the office of the Director of Music at Kneller Hall in Twickenham.”

“
You wanted to speak to Colonel Hammond, sir, but he's been called away on an emergency. I've been instructed to say that he must speak to you personally, and would you be so kind as to ring again tomorrow. He had no way of knowing when he will be back. And one other thing, sir – you must not call him from any phone in your flat, and that includes Miss Fletcher's. This is a matter of grave importance. Do you understand, sir?”

“
I understand what you've told me, all right, but I don't like the implication one little bit. What the hell's going on?”

“
I'm afraid I don't know, Captain Baird. I'm sure Colonel Hammond can explain tomorrow.”

I hung up with a feeling of unease that lasted all the way back to the bandstand. I had wanted this thing over and done with, and now it would drag on for another day. And that business about the telephones was the last straw. More than ever, I wanted out.

*

Gibraltar
–
the
same
day

They sat at a table in the Gibraltar Arms pub and café on Main Street. To outward appearances, just a tourist and a local, casually met. They spoke in accented English, their only common language.

“
You hef onderstand everytheeng?”

“
Yes,
effendi
. You wish a suitcase flown to Algiers. This is no problem for me. I load cargo for all airlines landing in Gibraltar. I myself will place it on the plane.”

“
You hef right plane? Is meet in Algiers. Mus' be right one.”

“
Yes, yes. I have the right plane. Today there is only one. I put the case on this plane, don't worry.”

“
Here ees key for locker een airport. And something for you.”

He slid the key and an envelope across the table. The local pocketed the key, then examined the contents of the envelope below the table top. His face registered his surprise.

“So much? This must be very important,
effendi
.”

He smiled at the tourist, whose cold eyes merely glinted behind the glasses.

“You hef problem, perhaps?”

“
No, no – no problem. Everything will be perfect, you will see. I personally guarantee it.”

“
Eef thees go wrong, you are dead man,” he whispered. Thees my guarantee.”

Abruptly he finished his beer and departed, leaving the local in a wave of fear.

*

Twickenham
,
England
–
the
same
day

Lunch in the Officer's Mess at Kneller Hall can be either festive or boring. There are only three dining-in members of the mess – the Commandant of the school, a full colonel, Archie, as Director of Music, and the Adjutant. Trapped there with these three you're in trouble, for the Commandant monopolizes the conversation, and it's invariably about gardening, his real passion in life.

When there are a dozen or so for lunch, as there were that particular Wednesday, it becomes a gala occasion, for the Commandant becomes engrossed with the two people nearest him. Everyone else has a wonderful time, for the food is excellent.

Fortunately, I was seated at the opposite end of the table from the Commandant, and there was no possibility of being drawn into a discourse on rhododendrons and peonies. Marijke Templaars was not so lucky, however, and occasionally she would catch my eye and give me a look that spelled 'help' or 'rescue me', but I could only smile back with pity – there was no way I would have braved the Commandant's lecture on the cross-pollination of hybrid roses.

Sitting opposite me was a flight lieutenant in Royal Air Force uniform, and the wings above his left breast pocket told me that we would have something to talk about.

“Hello, I'm David Baird. What's a pilot doing in the midst of all these musicians?”

“
Philip Rideout,” he responded, offering his hand. “No longer a pilot. And I've heard tales of your escapades from Archie.”

“
Now I know I'm in trouble,” I grinned, “Archie is not always to be trusted when he talks about me.”

“
I think you're pretty safe these days, David, but I'd love to hear the details of one or two of your pranks from your point of view. I'll bet Archie doesn't know the whole story.”

“
Another time, Philip,” I whispered, “this is not the place.”

I nodded toward the head of the table as we both chuckled.

“How come you're not flying anymore?”

“
These things,” he said, pointing to his horn-rimmed glasses. “I'd been with my squadron for over a year and then I caught measles, which I had never had as a child. I came out of it with impaired vision which got steadily worse, and I was grounded while they decided what to do with me. I didn't want to leave the air force, and since I had a strong musical background a few strings were pulled and I took the bandmaster's course. Now I hang on to a baton instead of the control column in a Hawker Hunter.”

“
Do you miss flying?”

His dark eyes flashed.
“I did at first, but I've taken a civilian license and I fly a small Cessna, so I keep my hand in. But the other day all the old urges came back with a vengeance. I had my band in Dunsfold to play at a commemorative ceremony for Hawker Aircraft. One of my old chums from flying school days is now test flying for Hawker's, and he got permission to give me a close look at a project I would give anything to be involved in.”

“
Tell me about it.”

“
I don't see why not. Nothing I was shown is classified, and the public knows of the aircraft's existence. The design details are top secret, but I'm in the dark there, anyway.”

Philip ran his hand through his thatch of unruly dark hair, obviously bursting to share what he had seen, and I was just as anxious to hear about it. But before I could encourage him to continue, he plunged on with a worried look.

“Tell me to shut up if this is boring. I tend to forget that other people don't share my passion for flying.”

“
Are you kidding, Philip? Archie obviously seated us together because he knows how much I like aircraft. I even wangled a flying course despite being an army director of music.”

Philip beamed his pleasure.

“A fellow pilot – that's a jolly good bit of luck. I had fears of aspidistras from his nibs down there. Well, have you followed the development of vertical take-off and landing aircraft to any extent?”

“
Not much, I'm afraid. I know there've been some experiments with flying bedsteads and planes that sit on their tails, but that's about it. None seem to have been taken seriously.”

“
That's not the case anymore. Hawker's have a VTOL that works. I've seen it fly, and it's fantastic!”

For the next twenty minutes or so Philip spoke in admiration about this aircraft, the P1127. Still unnamed, it was a jet which took off and landed vertically or with a short run, and then converted to conventional flight as a fighter. Under development by Hawker Aircraft, it promised to revolutionize air warfare, especially in the close support role.

Philip explained that the principle of rotating jet nozzles was called 'vectored thrust', and Hawker was leading the world in VTOL aircraft. The technology was a closely guarded secret.

I thought about it for a moment, throwing out a question.

“What about the Russians? Have they been working on anything similar? If we're this far advanced, I'd be surprised if they weren't watching every step of the way.”

“
We've heard rumors about a VTOL program in Russia, but nothing concrete. France is the closest – Dassault has a program based on one of the Mirage fighters. But they're all trying to use separate engines for the take-off and landing, with a conventional jet for horizontal flying. This way the vertical engines become dead weight during normal flight, and it severely limits the aircraft's performance. We seem to be the only ones who have mastered the 'vectored thrust' principle, and that's why the technology is top secret.”

“
I hope they're minding the store,” I commented. “If the Soviets want something they go after it. All these defectors haven't exactly instilled confidence in British security.”

Philip became a bit defensive. The defections of Burgess, MacLean, and the others had embarrassed Britons to the core, apart from the damage they had done through their espionage.

“Not to worry, old chap. I'm sure as far as the P1127 is concerned they've got it tightly battened down. Ivan will never get his hands on those documents – you mark my words.”

We continued talking about flying for the rest of lunch. I hadn't flown in over a year, and I was beginning to realize how much I missed it. Philip offered to take me up in his Cessna, and we parted like old friends, promising to keep in touch.