The Blind Run (25 page)

Charlie broke away from his direct stare at Olga Suvorov, encompassing the class. The face of the man in the brown jacket blazed red and both Belik and the man at the rear sat with their hands beneath the desk now. Gimmicky again, conceded Charlie – later they might even decide it hadn’t been such an impressive trick, because he’d had the advantage of looking out at them, even though they’d have to accept that all of them were partially hidden by the desks at which they sat – but it was still effective. They were all looking among themselves, with the exception of Natalia. She met Charlie’s gaze this time, the expression on her face one of faint amusement. Was it amusement? wondered Charlie. Or contempt?

To the embarrassed man in the brown jacket Charlie said, ‘How are you called?’

‘Popov,’ said the man. ‘Yuri Pavlovich Popov.’

‘No!’ said Charlie. ‘Listen, for Christ’s sake listen! You’ve been trained to infiltrate countries that speak English. Which means England or the United States or Canada or Australia or New Zealand or – although unlikely – South Africa. No one there, seeking your name, says “How are you called?” That’s English constructed from a foreign language. It’s another interrogation trick, like saying good morning in Russian.’

‘How should we respond, then?’

The question came from Natalia. Charlie looked to her, thinking again how attractive she was: not beautiful, but attractive. A contemptuous question? he wondered, recalling her earlier expression. Or one of genuine interest? He was talking of interrogation – entrapment – and she’d interrogated him. It could be a test. If he proved himself too adept at confronting and resisting interrogation then she might suspect that he’d tricked her. ‘Always with innocence,’ he said. ‘Because that’s what you always are, innocent of whatever stupidity has caused whatever has happened to you. Not anger. Or arrogance. Anger and arrogance fit, of course, but unless they’re absolutely genuine they’re too easy to detect and undermine. Innocence is the barrier. Because if you’re innocent then it’s natural to be confused and if you’re confused then it’s perfectly understandable if you stumble and appear awkward – if you make dangerous mistakes, even.’ Charlie hesitated, wondering whether to continue. She was concentrating absolutely upon him and Charlie was warmed by the attention. He went on, ‘But use being a confused innocent…’ He looked to the brown-jacketed man who had identified himself as Yuri Popov. ‘“How are you called?” didn’t fit and instead of being anxious to respond you should have come back at me and asked me what I meant. By doing that, you tilt the balances so that I have to provide, to your questioning.’

‘You!’ demanded Charlie suddenly, gesturing to the man at the rear in the overchecked suit. ‘What’s the point I’m making?’

The man twitched, unhappy at the sudden, unwelcome attention. Blushing at his inability – like Popov had blushed before him – the man said ‘I’m not sure,’ and stopped, miserably.

‘Good!’ praised Charlie, aware of the other man’s look of surprise. ‘You didn’t mean it but that was exactly the lesson. Never make the mistake of trying to respond either fully or at once to any question. Always remember you’re confused, that you don’t understand. Always misunderstand and gain time from it.’

‘You!’ said Charlie, finger-pointing again and continuing the demands, this time to Natalia. ‘What’s been peculiar about everything I’ve said, so far today?’

The relief from everyone else in the room at having avoided such a question was palpable. Natalia showed no discomfort. Nor hurry, either. She actually looked down at her desk, considering the answers and then she came back to him and said, ‘Defeat. Everything you’ve said has been directed towards our detection; the need for us satisfactorily to withstand investigation.’

Charlie’s reactions were mixed. The first was a satisfaction of his own, that she’d got the answer right. Then there were others. Us, she’d said: the need for us satisfactorily to withstand investigation. Was Natalia really someone under consideration for overseas posting: someone who, when she was posted, he was going to betray? Just once, thought Charlie, he’d like there to be more answers than there were questions in a single day. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Exactly right.’

Natalia flushed, pleased, and Charlie was pleased, too.

‘You!’ he said, schoolmasterly again, to the man in grey whom he’d so far spared. ‘What are you called?’

The man frowned and said, ‘I’m sorry. I do not understand.’

‘Good,’ smiled Charlie. ‘Very good. What is your name?’

‘Valeri Pavlovich Vlasov,’ said the man, grateful his test had come last, so that he’d had time to learn.

‘So tell me, Valeri Pavlovich Vlasov. Why do you think I’ve been concentrating upon how to resist interrogation?’

The man’s relief seeped away, like air from a balloon. ‘Because it is important,’ he blurted desperately.

‘Why is it important?’ pressed Charlie.

Recalling the earlier instructions, Vlasov said, ‘To survive.’

‘Should it have got this far?’ said Charlie.

‘I don’t understand,’ said the man, trying to flee up the already signposted escape route.

Charlie didn’t allow him the escape, but he spread the question to involve everyone in the room. ‘Why?’ he said, again. ‘Why do you imagine that I consider resistance so important, at our very first meeting? You!’ He pointed to Natalia. ‘Tell me what you think.’

There wasn’t the hesitation this time. ‘I don’t think you’ve any confidence in our being able to escape detection,’ she said simply. ‘I think you imagine that we’d be swept up, almost as soon as we arrived.’

‘You would,’ said Charlie. ‘I don’t think any of you would stand a chance. You’ve been taught like animals, to perform tricks. Seals can balance balls on their noses and dogs can balance on their hind legs providing the trick is always demanded in the same way, through the same formula. You’ve been taught in a formularised way and the easiest way to be detected is to behave to a formula. Agents behave to a formula; not ordinary people. Ordinary people – the sort of people that you’re expected to be – make mistakes and get drunk and forget to pay the rent …’ Charlie raised his hand, seeing the look upon the faces of both Belik and Popov. ‘Which is not a contradiction of what I said about being unobtrusive. It’s in support of it. Ordinary, unsuspicious wallpaper-on-the-wall people do those things. No one hasn’t ever forgotten to pay a bill or parked wrongly on a line or taken too much at a party. Who are the good guys, at a party? The drunks or the sober ones, who get remembered afterwards?’

‘So what are you saying?’ asked Natalia, who appeared to be emerging as the spokesman for the group.

‘That’s better,’ praised Charlie, almost over-effusively. ‘Turn as many questions back as you can. What I’m saying is that I think you’ve all got to relearn – every one of you. I don’t mean go back to the basic classes and undergo every course again. I mean that having assimilated the courses, you’ve got to adapt what you’ve learned into what it’s supposed to make you, a Westerner. And stop being Russians who’ve been taught to balance balls on their noses, when the trick is demanded of them.’

Charlie’s ability to describe how every one of them was dressed from their initial entry into the room wasn’t a trick; not any longer, anyway. It had been, years ago, when the need was first explained to him, a conscious effort at memory but now it was instinctive. The conscious effort he was making was about their faces, faces he was later going to have to recall, to photofit artists so that complete reconstructions could be made and circulated throughout the security services, for them to be detected. He was fairly confident that he could do it already, from this first meeting. Every succeeding day was going to be an advantage. He said, ‘I’m going to make you Westerners: instinctive, automatic, easily assimilated Westerners. There are going to be times when you think I am wasting your time …’ He glanced at Popov, who looked discomfited again. ‘I won’t be wasting your time. I’ll be teaching you apparently stupid, inconsequential things and it’s what appears stupid and inconsequential that will keep you safe from detection.’ Charlie smiled around the room, the first time he had appeared to relax. Before they had time to get that impression, he said, ‘All right. With one exception – because it wasn’t demanded – you’ve all made a mistake. What was it?’

Yet again there were uncertain movements throughout the group, Natalia less than the others.

‘You told me your names,’ said Charlie. ‘Because I’m standing here, at the head of the class, you assumed I had authority – the right to know – and when I asked you responded to that authority. Weren’t you all provided with pseudonyms, when you came here?’

It was a question for later, when he returned to England. While he was at Balashikha he would learn all he could about the training and the instruction. To know precisely how the Russians taught their agents would be invaluable.

From the people in front of him there were nods of agreement.

‘Then they were provided for a reason,’ said Charlie. ‘For protection, even here. It’s the same lesson as before; don’t feel the need to respond. Until it becomes an automatic response, consciously look behind every question – every instruction – for a second or third or fourth reason for that question or instructions …’ Charlie hesitated, remembering the lessons he had learned at the knee of Sir Archibald Willoughby, the Director under whom he had worked for so long. Recalling one verbatim, Charlie said, ‘There is never a straight line, in espionage. Always too many, conflicting lines.’

Charlie generalised for a further hour and it was a more subdued group that prepared to leave than the one that had entered. As they gathered their things, Charlie said to Natalia, ‘Can I speak to you?’

The woman appeared embarrassed at being finally singled out from the rest, smiling at them apologetically and then turning back to Charlie. When they were alone Charlie said, ‘I was surprised.’

‘So was I.’

‘You didn’t know?’

‘Not that it would be you … just that it was an extra course. Something special …’ She hesitated, smiling at him this time and said, ‘Should I be looking for a second or third or fourth reason in the questions?’

He grinned back at her. ‘Maybe we both should.’

‘I don’t know if it’s possible but I think it would be best if I applied to be taken off the course, don’t you?’

Did that mean she really was undergoing overseas instruction? He said, ‘Would it really be difficult for you?’

‘Obviously,’ she said, appearing surprised at his question. ‘Wouldn’t it for you?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Charlie. ‘I don’t think so.’ Having re-established contact, he didn’t want to lose it. He said, ‘Why don’t we talk about it further … somewhere other than here?’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea, either.’

‘We don’t seem sure about anything, do we?’

‘I think you upset everybody,’ said Natalia.

‘Seems to be a habit I have,’ said Charlie.

‘Having you here is an innovation, instructions from outside.’

Berenkov, Charlie presumed. He said, ‘Resented?’

‘The other instructors didn’t appear very keen. Today’s group were supposed to be graduate level.’

Charlie wished he could categorise Natalia’s place in all this. He said, ‘And supposed to test me?’

She nodded. ‘You were very impressive.’

Charlie felt a physical reaction to her praise, a stomach tightening. He said, ‘They weren’t.’

‘Maybe they thought it was going to be too easy. Relaxed too much.’

‘That isn’t any sort of excuse. Explanation even,’ said Charlie, professionally.

Her face closed against him and Charlie wished he hadn’t spoken so curtly. ‘That wasn’t meant to be a rebuke,’ he said.

‘I should be joining the others.’

‘I can do it now,’ said Charlie, purposely obtuse.

She frowned back at him. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘During one of the debriefings I said I couldn’t invite you out to dinner, because I didn’t have any money. This job pays. What are you doing tonight?’

She smiled at him again, shaking her head. ‘No,’ she said.

‘Why not?’

‘You know why not.’

‘No, I don’t,’ said Charlie, still intentionally awkward. If she refused him now then any subsequent refusal would be easier for her.

‘It wouldn’t look right.’

‘Who’d be looking?’ If they knew, they’d both probably be surprised, he thought.

‘Going out to dinner in Moscow isn’t easy, like it is in the West.’

She was weakening, Charlie realised. ‘I’d still like to try,’ he said. ‘Please.’

Natalia hesitated. Then she said, ‘All right.’

Charlie felt the stomach tightening come again.

Kalenin set out his miniature tanks to recreate Montgomery’s confrontation in North Africa against Rommel, fully familiar with the ploys and the strategies of the battle. Having assembled them, he remained staring down. There had been a sandstorm, he remembered; a blinding, concealing sandstorm and Montgomery had utilised the advantage.

Was he being deflected by a sandstorm? wondered the KGB chairman. Kalenin knew he had done all the right things and made all the right moves to try to locate his traitor. But he still couldn’t see anything. So what was he doing wrong? What was blinding him from looking in the right direction?

Kalenin turned away from his game, uninterested. The order had come from the Politburo for regular reports. Kalenin was aware that rarely – at any time during his career – had he been so exposed.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Charlie was happy to let Natalia lead in everything because attracted to her though he was and genuine though he believed her to be he didn’t believe in coincidence, any more than he believed Father Christmas came down chimneys every December and he couldn’t reconcile himself to her appearance at Balashikha. He was curious at her choice of the Rossiya because it was the hotel to which he’d gone after the rebellious outing which had included the GUM store, but pleased with the top storey restaurant because of its magnificent view of central Moscow. The wine list was restricted to products within the Soviet Union and he wondered what Berenkov would have ordered: at least, he thought, it prevented him making any mistakes. He selected a red, from Georgia, and it tasted good and he was relieved; he didn’t want to show himself up in front of her. His attitude – which, objective as always, he recognised as one of nervousness – intrigued Charlie because the nervousness wasn’t because of his uncertainty about her true function but just about being in her company. Having been lucky with the wine he deferred to her over the food. They started with assorted cold fish and then goulash, which was excellent. The service was typically Russian, slow, but Charlie wasn’t in any hurry and he welcomed the delay: before the goulash arrived, he’d ordered the second bottle of wine. The lecture-hall reservation remained initially between them, so that although Charlie had decided to let her lead in the choice of where and what to eat he had to prompt the conversation, coaxing her out, bit by bit. Almost at once, tauntingly, she asked from how many sides she should look at his questions and he extended one finger towards her and guessing the response she met hers with his and Charlie said it signified a pact, for neither to be suspicious of the other, comfortable with his own hypocrisy. Gradually she began to talk. She told him of her hometown of Penza but of moving to Moscow very young, within the first year of her university entrance, because the KGB personnel selectors had already received reports of her ability, particularly with languages. Charlie got the impression she clearly enjoyed being in the service, for the advantages it meant. She explained how the training had been extensive and her grades impressive, so impressive that the offer was made – and accepted – that she should extend her studies to include psychology, for the function for which she was ultimately groomed. Presented with the opening, Charlie asked outright whether that grooming was now being further extended to mean her posting abroad, the only explanation for her presence on the course. This time she offered her finger and Charlie, enjoying the game, touched back – enjoying, too, the actual touch of her – and she admitted it wasn’t. Making no effort to conceal the pride Natalia said she was the senior psychologist in the debriefing section and that her appointment to the sessions was to provide the final assessment, on the suitability of the other five selected for overseas emplacement. Charlie’s initial, abrupt, reaction was one of relief because it meant that at some time in the future he wouldn’t be entrapping her, for arrest and imprisonment – the awfulness of imprisonment that he had known – in England or America. But at the same time that other part of his brain – the never resting, never sleeping, never relaxing professional part – saw the flaw.