The Defector (22 page)

“Can you give me a lift back?”

“Pleasure,” he said. He paid the bill and took her arm as they left the pub. He held it firmly until they reached his car. He opened the door for her and as she looked up at him, he bent down very quickly and pecked her on the mouth.

“That’s just to say thanks,” he said.

“And I won’t forget what you’ve done to help me. I won’t let you down.”

“I know that,” she said as they drove away.

“That’s why I’ve asked for you.” He waited with her by the lift. His department was below ground in the building. She got in, and the doors shut. Harrington stayed, watching for the red eye on the indicator to light up. It stopped at the fifth floor. He turned and walked away. He knew she had gone to see the Chief. The roster of prisoners in the Lubyanka was divided into three sections. Grade 1 included suspects being held for interrogation. Grade 2 were criminals awaiting trial. Grade 3 were the convicted on their way to the camps in the Gulag. A minor subsection noted a very few who were in fact released having been in Grade 1. The name of Fedya Sasanova was in Grade 1. She was held in a cell one level down. Below that level were the interrogation rooms, sound-proofed, air-conditioned, sealed off from the outside world. She had not been taken down there yet. The cell was very small, walled and floored in’ concrete set in the ceiling was a powerful electric light that was never turned off. There was no means of telling day from night or keeping any track of time; a shelf bed with two dirty blankets was bolted to the wall so that for the first two days, Fedya Sasanova crouched on the floor when she couldn’t stand any longer. A pail with a lid was the only means of relieving herself. For the first two days she was not allowed to empty it. She was given water and a vegetable soup once a day and the effects of hunger were becoming part of the physical misery other conditions. She was spied on at regular intervals through an eye-hole let into the cell door. There was very little noise; the silence was occasionally broken by sharp sounds. By the end of the third day Fedya began to move round the walls, to stop herself from beating on the door and screaming. Then she found the inscriptions deliberately left behind, to terrify each new occupant.

“God help me.”

“Stop tomorrow. Stop the pain.”

“Lost. Darkness. I’m lost.” Scrawls made with the tip of the tin spoon provided for the soup. She knew it was the tool because she made a feeble scratch with it herself. The inscriptions terrified her. So did the defaced names. There were many names, but few of the pitiful phrases graven into the concrete walls. Fedya wept and shivered, and curled up in the corner to try and sleep. The guards watched her from the other side of the door. By the end of the week she was tormented with stomach pains and a blinding headache. They let down the shelf bed and she threw herself on it with a cry and sank into a deep sleep. An hour later she was roused and shaken to her feet. The bed was raised and padlocked. She wailed like a child. At the end of ten days it was decided to question her. The guards were men; they came into the cell with a bucket of hot water and a bar of scrubbing-soap. She was told to strip and wash. When she hesitated, the younger guard ripped off her filthy stained dress and threw it in the corner. She took off her own underclothes and washed naked in front of them. She dried herself on a thin little towel, and put on the clean prison overall. She tried to ask them a question, but they didn’t answer. The man who had torn her dress off pushed her into the corridor. She took one look at the long, bare, brightly lit tunnel, and her legs crumpled. She was hauled up on her feet and supported on either side until they reached a lift. Fear swept over her, assaulting her sanity and self-control. She was going to the interrogation room. And then, just as suddenly, the fear receded. They were going up, not down. The relief was so euphoric that she visibly straightened herself and stood independently of the two guards. They came out into another corridor. This time there were windows, but she saw they were covered with a fine steel mesh. No suicides, she thought, no chance to escape through death. They had made death their servant. When she was brought into Volkov’s office she started to tremble all over again. He was sitting in a chair, drinking tea. He got up when he saw her, and said, “Bring Comrade Sasanova a chair. Would you like some tea, Comrade?” She lowered herself onto the chair seat, gripping the sides, her body visibly shaking. Volkov looked at her as if everything was normal and she was paying him a visit.

“Tea?” he offered again.

“No, thank you, Comrade Volkov,” she said.

“I would spill it.”

“And why would you do that?” he asked gently.

“Because your hands are shaking?” She nodded.

“Why are they shaking, Comrade? Are you afraid?” She looked into the pale eyes; they were like metal, and she screamed inwardly at her jangling nerves to be still and let her concentrate. She had to answer, and the stake was her life. And not only her life;

her mind held feverishly to the reality. But the life; of her child, Irina. Irina who had brought the message from Sasanov, her daughter who was in contact with dissidents. She said in a low voice, “Yes, I am afraid, Comrade Volkov. I don’t know what I have done wrong.”

“And you can’t think of anything?” The question was asked in the same friendly tone.

“Please tell me,” she begged.

“Tell me, Comrade, so I can confess it and ask for mercy.” Tears trickled down her face. Volkov viewed her with distaste. At least she was clean;

he couldn’t bear bad smells. Before he questioned any suspect after ten days in the prison, they were always washed and given clean clothes. She was a stupid woman, he decided. Being from an intellectual family himself he recognized the peasant in her, and despised her. The daughter Irina had her father’s intelligence and something of his looks. Volkov knew Sasanov was fond of his wife. He only regretted he couldn’t be there to see her.

“You mean you’ll confess to whatever I tell you? Is that what you think of Soviet justice?”

“No, no, of course not. I never meant that I’m just confused, I haven’t slept or eaten” Are you complaining about your treatment? ” She looked at him in agony; he compared her with a trapped animal, surrounded on all sides. It didn’t amuse him to torment her. She was too stupid. He stopped wasting time.

“Why did you identify that body as your husband’s when you knew it wasn’t?” She opened her mouth and stuttered. But deep in her mind the peasant mentality he dismissed with a sneer warned her not to deny it. Tell the truth. then perhaps he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“I thought it would be best,” she said slowly. She raised her head and looked at him.

“We’ve been hoping he was dead. Anything except he’d just disappeared. I wanted to please the authorities.”

“By telling a lie?”

“I didn’t think it would matter. I wanted to be back in favour, Comrade Volkov. I wanted to forget about my husband and start my life again.” The sharp maternal instinct urged her on.

“Irina had suffered so much because of him,” she muttered. She was so ashamed when he vanished like that. She lost all her friends. She wanted him to be dead. We both wanted it. That’s why I said it was him. She was so happy, like a different girl. ” She lowered her head.

“It was wrong of me, Comrade Volkov. I deceived you. I deserve to be punished.”

“Yes,” he said reprovingly, ‘you do. Your daughter came asking for you. ” He saw the quick, frightened glance and misinterpreted it.

“I reassured her,” he said.

“I told her you would go to a correctional camp.”

“You didn’t tell her what I’d done?” she begged.

“She’d never forgive me. She’s such a good Party member, if she thought I’d lied, she’d never have me back.” She gave way to a real outburst of noisy crying. He finished his tea and nodded at the guards. They came and pulled Fedya Sasanova to her feet.

“Thank you, Comrade Volkov,” she whimpered, ‘thank you for not telling her. ” He nodded again, more sharply, and she was hurried out of the room. Thank him for not telling her daughter that the body buried with so much publicity was that of an impostor. He lit a cigarette and poured another cup of hot tea. There wouldn’t be a trial for Fedya Sasanova, because there mustn’t be a record of her offence. The KGB ran its own camps and she could be sent there under his personal authority. Her arrest must be kept a secret, if the lies told about her husband’s mental breakdown and suicide were to be maintained. He thought about Irina Sasanova. He had impressed upon her that she must keep her mother’s misdemeanour a secret, if she hoped for a light sentence. She too could be picked up; he hesitated, considering the idea. But she was a university student and a promising one. It would cause too much comment if she vanished. He thought another interview would be the best. An invitation, perhaps. She was young, and quite pretty. There was a freshness that appealed to him. He wrote a personal note and sent it down for his driver to deliver to the Sasanov’s flat. It suggested that Irina might like to have dinner with him at the Bear Restaurant near Zhukova, twenty miles outside Moscow. It was an elite and secluded place, reserved for senior officials of the Party. It was within twenty minutes’ drive of his country dacha.

“Believe me,” Davina said again, ‘we’ll get her exchanged and we’re going to get your daughter out. It’s all going ahead. ” She sat on the arm of his chair and put her arms round him. He had gone into the bedroom when she first told him of Fedya’s arrest, and she had waited helplessly outside. She knew when he came back that he had been crying.

“I’ll go back,” he said.

“I’ll give myself up.”

“That won’t help her,” she said.

“Be sensible; you know the way Volkov works. If a defector had come back and tried to bargain, would you have let his wife go?”

“No,” he said.

“I’d have arrested him and used her to make him denounce others, confess to whatever we needed at the time. And I’m humane by Volkov’s standards.” He looked at her, and she saw that a burning anger had replaced despair.

“I was never cruel for its own sake. Volkov is cruel. The next will be my daughter.”

“No, it won’t,” she said quickly.

“From our information she’s in favour with him. And she’s been clever enough to play on it. Our people are going ahead to arrange her escape as quickly as possible. And don’t lose hope for your wife. The Chief promised to do a deal. And he never breaks his word,” she said. Except when it suits him, was her private aside. Thank God she had been able to argue Sasanov out of trying to go back. She felt a desperate tenderness for him; she had been close to breaking into tears herself when she told him what had happened to his wife.

“They won’t bother to save Irina now,” he said slowly.

“Why should they? Fedya’s in prison and I can’t go back. I have a motive for working with them now revenge for what’s happened to my wife. Why should your Chief risk his agents going into Russia?” He pulled away from her and stood up.

“They’ll lie to you, so you can lie to me. Irina will never come.”

“Are you going to work fully with us?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he said.

“At the beginning it was for Jacob and his principles;

now it’s for Fedya. I’ll work with your people;

I’ll give them everything I know. ” Suddenly he shouted.

“I want to destroy Volkov, I want to smash them all to pieces!” He turned his back on her and covered his face with his hands.

“Ivan,” she said after a pause, “Ivan, please don’t… I’m going out myself to get Irina. I’m going to Russia to bring her back.” He swivelled round to face her.

“You? No, I don’t believe it” It’s true,” she said.

“It was all agreed this afternoon. Now you know we’re not going to cheat you. You’re going to another safe house, where Grant and a team will start serious debriefing. You’ve got to work with them while the rescue operation goes ahead. That’s the only condition.”

“You go to Russia?” He repeated.

“No, that’s impossible. You can’t.. It’s ridiculous you don’t even speak Russian.”

“I speak very good German,” she answered.

“And in any case there’s no argument. I’m going.” He didn’t move, he stared at her.

“This is madness. You will be caught. I forbid it; I won’t work, I won’t cooperate!”

“Yes, you will,” she came to him and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Because I’m going anyway. I asked to do it, for a very special reason.”

“You want to leave me,” he said.

“I want to make you happy,” she said quietly.

“I know what’s happened to me and it’s been happening for some time. I’m on your side now; my people know it, too. I love you, Ivan, and that’s why I’ve got to go and bring your daughter back. Then I can get out of your life and try to sort out my own.” His arms closed round her and she leaned against him.

“You’ve given me so much. I want to give you what we promised.”

“If anything happens to you,” he said slowly, “I have nothing left.”

“Nothing will happen,” she promised.

“I want to see your face when I bring Irina home… Now why don’t we get ourselves a drink and I can tell you what has been arranged.” She felt his hand stroke the back of her hair; he was not normally tender in a physical way. He muttered something in Russian which she couldn’t understand; and then he said, “I’ll say that to you in English when you come back.” They came to take Sasanov to Grant’s safe house in Hampshire at 3. 30 the following afternoon. A message had warned Davina to pack for him and get ready to leave the flat herself. There were two security men;

and a third man she didn’t know who arrived at the flat shook hands with her and introduced himself to Sasanov as John Kidson. One man took the bags down, while the other lingered by the front door in the little passageway. John Kidson asked if Sasanov was ready. He had a pleasant anonymity;

the kind of man whose eye colour, height and type would be impossible to remember five minutes after he had gone. Sasanov said he was ready to go, and there was a slight, awkward pause while Kidson opened the door into the hall for him. He went up to Davina; he held out his hand and she shook it.