The Defector (23 page)

“Goodbye,” she said.

“I hope everything goes well for you.”

“I hope so,” he said. They looked at each other for a long private moment; Kidson had turned his back on them. Sasanov took her in his arms.

“Goodbye,” he whispered.

“Come back to me.” Then he walked away. The door closed and Davina was alone. Her own case was packed; the flat had a deserted air. There was an ashtray with stubs in it, and a glass with a film of vodka in the bottom where Sasanov had had a final drink. She walked into the bedroom; the bed was stripped, nothing had been left behind. The room held no imprint of them. It was empty and dead, like the rest of the place. She emptied the ashtray and washed up the glass. Then she dialled a number on the phone. It connected with the security office on the ground floor.

“I’m ready to go,” she said.

“I’ll be in the hall in a couple of minutes.”

“Right,” came the answer.

“The cab’ll be waiting outside.” She was driven to the office in St. James’s Place. The first outline of what was code-named Operation Skylark was scheduled for discussion in the Brigadier’s office at 4. 30 that afternoon. Jeremy Spencer-Barr, Peter Harrington and Davina Graham met each other in the outer office at exactly 4. 15.

“Hello,” Jeremy said when he saw her. He showed no surprise, yet she felt instinctively that her appearance was a shock. But the real shock was Peter Harrington. Spencer Barr didn’t try to hide his surprise. He said, “Good Lord,” just loud enough for them to hear, and turned to look out of the window. Behind his back, Harrington lifted two fingers, and Davina frowned at him. The Brigadier’s secretary saw the gesture, and smiled. Harrington had been around for a long time, and Spencer-Barr was not well liked. At 4. 30 exactly the buzzer sounded, and she told them they could go inside.

“Daddy? Hello darling, it’s me.” Captain Graham beamed with pleasure at his younger daughter’s voice.

“Charley! What a nice surprise your mother tried you a couple of times last week, and couldn’t get an answer. She left messages on your answer-phone thing.”

“I know, I meant to call back, but I’ve been so rushed… Listen Daddy, could I come down this weekend? You’re not full up, are you?”

“Of course not,” he said eagerly.

“We’ve got a couple coming to lunch on Sunday, but otherwise nothing. We’d love to see you, Charley. You’re not bringing anyone are you? “

“No,” she said.

“I’ve no one to bring at the moment, actually. Has Davina been down again?”

“No,” her father said.

“I’m afraid she doesn’t bother to keep in touch. We’ll see you Friday evening. Are you driving down or coming by train? I can meet you ‘ ” I’m driving,” she said.

“I’ll be down in time for a nice drink.

“Bye darling.” Captain Graham hurried into the garden. His wife was on her knees, weeding a bed where the roses were coming into flower. She was so absorbed she didn’t hear him call from the house; she dug with the little trowel, carefully extracting the weeds down to the root, murmuring to her flowers as she worked.

“There, that’s got that nasty thing out heavens, what a long root! You need a little drink of Liquinure, don’t you? ” She looked up as he called from close by.

“Darling, Charley’s just rung. She’s coming down on Friday.”

“Oh, good. That’ll be lovely,” she called back. Her husband looked so animated that she smiled to herself. He did adore his younger daughter. It had never occurred to Mrs. Graham to be jealous. She was delighted to see her husband so happy, with a spring in his walk as he went back down the path to the house. Davina hadn’t been in contact with them since she came down with the Polish diplomat, oh, nearly two months ago. The daffodils had all been in flower at the time. Mrs. Graham had a habit of noting time by the flowering seasons in her garden. The roses were coming put, and that was June. The full glory of her herbaceous border was July into August. She was looking forward to seeing Charley; maybe one day she’d find the right man and really settle down. It was no good hoping for grandchildren from Davina. She settled down to the weeding again, and carried on her gentle monologue to her flowers. Charley Ransom put the telephone down with a pleased little sigh. It was so lovely to be able to ring and just fly home whenever she felt down. They were darlings, the way they never said no when she wanted something. It was marvelous to be loved so much. She told herself that quite often, but especially if she was bored and lonely, which occasionally happened. It had happened lately, with the end of her long affair with the man who was dotty about the theatre, and nothing to amuse her but last-minute invitations from jeremy Spencer-Barr. Every time she went out with him, she made up her mind not to go again. He was charming and could be very interesting, but there was nothing personal in his attitude to her. He never told her she looked nice, or sent flowers or telephoned unless he wanted to take her out. His effect on her was not a good one. He made her insecure, and there was no other man in her life to assure her that she was as beautiful and irresistible as ever. Besides which, her ex-husband was being very difficult about the ownership of her expensive flat. She needed to go down to Marchwood and nestle under the parental wings for a couple of days. And there was something else that niggled at her. Jeremy Spencer-Barr again; not just his indifference to her, but his constant and inexplicable interest in her sister Davina. She had spent some time thinking about this, and wondering why it should make her uneasy. She had been merely irritated by it at first, and then worried that he was trying to find out about her sister from motives of professional jealousy. Charley didn’t want to be the means of hurting Davina in her career, dreary though it sounded. After all, she had nothing else. That was the point when Charley stopped thinking about her. The broken engagement was such a long time ago. Any ordinary woman would have put it aside and got on with her life. As her father said, she was determined to be a spinster. But it would be nice to talk to her father and make sure that Jeremy wasn’t trying to cause her any trouble. The evening stretched ahead of her without engagement. She never understood some of her women friends when they claimed to like being alone. But then they had husbands who went on business trips; she supposed it was nice to be solitary if you lived with someone all the time. But she wasn’t involved with a particular man and she hated the rare occasions when she was by herself. She didn’t even enjoy having the chance to read or wash her hair, or go to bed early and watch the TV. She started going through her address book to see who she could ring up. Brigadier White sat back and listened to Humphrey Grant. He admired his economy of words and the speed at which he came to the point. He also observed very carefully the faces of the three people sitting in the room, listening. Davina Graham first. Very intense, concentrating totally. Pale and rather strung-up. The interview with Sasanov must have been painful. He was on his way to Hampshire and a new set-up, where the skilled interrogators headed by Grant would begin to unlock his mind. The link with Davina had been broken now. Missing her might make him malleable. There was a man on the team especially selected to get onto a personal level with the Russian. Grant was too chill and humourless to be any use for that. Pity about Davina. The least likely woman he could think of to throw everything away for a man. But that was women, after all. Like all her sex Davina Graham had her own X factor. The vulnerable spot for the right man; or, as in this case, the wrong one. He understood her anxiety to go on the mission to Russia better than she did herself. Her eagerness was pathetic; she was hanging on to every word Grant spoke. It just happened to fit into the Brigadier’s own plans to let her have her way. Then Peter Harrington. Tidy, sober, only occasionally making one of his ill-timed jokes, listening attentively to Grant, but not completely absorbed like Davina. Able to shoot a look at Spencer-Barr to see how he reacted, and then to the Brigadier himself. A man trying for a second chance. An operative who had once been very good on active missions, who’d begun to slide in a desk job in Washington until he had lost credibility at home and had to be recalled. A man who’d won the woman’s sympathy and confidence. And then the younger man, Jeremy Spencer-Barr. He had everything right, including an uncle in the Treasury and a senior Minister to recommend him. A dazzling academic career, and a personality like a well-cut diamond. Smooth, hard and brilliant. A hungry type, the Brigadier thought. Hungry for success. He had few friends in the Department. His colleagues talked of him as bright and ambitious; he wasn’t popular with anyone. A cold type, with little or no feeling for others. He was concentrating on Grant’s briefing, poised like an athlete at the line. His tutor at the language centre described his Russian as remarkable. This mission was his big chance, the opportunity that comes to men in his profession once or twice in the course of their careers. It had come very early to Spencer Barr He wasn’t happy about his two colleagues. His expression showed distaste whenever he glanced at Harrington; his manner with Davina Graham was wary. He didn’t like the prospect of working with either of them. The Brigadier speculated why, as he leaned back, himself part of Humphrey Grant’s audience. The plan so far worked out was comparatively simple. Davina and Peter Harrington were to go into East Germany as West Germans. When they arrived in East Berlin, they were to disappear, being replaced by an East German couple. It was a convenient way of getting agents out, although Grant didn’t specify this. In East Berlin, Davina and Harrington would be contacted, outfitted with new identities and passports, with visas for entry into Russia. They would travel as husband and wife with an Iniourist booking to the Black Sea resort of Livadia in the Crimea. It was a very popular holiday spot for tourists as well as native Russians. One of its attractions was the old Tsarist Palace, where the Romanovs had spent their summers. Spencer-Barr was to travel alone and his destination was Moscow. His cover was as a replacement for one of the trade secretaries in the Moscow Embassy. He would go to Moscow ahead of Harrington and Davina and take charge of the arrangements being made with Irina Sasanova. Grant announced this and then paused.

“Any questions so far?”

“Isn’t it a bit dicey, having a new man make contact with the Daughter?” Peter Harrington deliberately used the code name for Irina.

“No reflection on Spencer-Barr,” he said, ‘but aren’t her present contacts enough? It seems to be adding to the risks to send another man in. Jeremy is certain to cause comment when he arrives; they usually put a top-priority security screen for at least six months on anyone who comes out. ” Grant stared at him, his eyebrows slightly lifted.

“I didn’t know you were a Moscow expert,” he said.

“I’m not,” Harrington answered.

“But I’ve been around here long enough to know a number of people who were. After all, you did ask for questions, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Grant snapped.

“So long as they were relevant to your own part in the operation. I suggest Spencer-Barr is the person to concern himself with the Moscow end.” Harrington shrugged.

“I suppose so. One point about Davina and me; if we’re going in to the Crimea what backup will we have for getting out, if something goes wrong in Moscow?”

“None at all,” Grant said.

“If Moscow goes wrong, you won’t have an option except to swim for it. If you’re lucky and it’s the right date, you’ll be picked up by the boat intended for the Daughter. Miss. Graham? Any questions?”

“Has there been any further news of Fedya Sasanova?” There was a little silence; everyone seemed to be looking at her.

“I don’t see the relevance,” Grant retorted.

“It could make a difference to the Daughter’s attitude.” Peter came to the rescue.

“If she’d been released, for instance. The girl mightn’t want to come out.” The Brigadier interposed then.

“I don’t think there’s any chance of that,” he said gently.

“The latest word from Moscow was that she was still in the Lubyanka. It’s too soon to know whether she’s being interrogated or just kept there till they decide where to send her. She won’t be set free. “

“These agents coming over from East Germany in our place,” Davina said, ‘are they really refugees or Western agents? If they’re refugees isn’t it very risky to trust them?”

“Miss. Graham.” Grant’s tone was acid.

“It’s well understood that this is your first active mission. But do try to ask questions that make some sense. You can safely leave the security aspect to us.” He turned away from her, and behind his back, Harrington mouthed the word ‘bastard’ at Davina and grinned encouragingly at her.

“Mr. Spencer-Barr?” It was obvious from Grant’s changed tone that he was relieved to be dealing with someone capable.

“I fly to Moscow as a replacement,” Jeremy said.

“I shall be under surveillance as a newcomer. Any contacts I make will be noted, my movements will be monitored. Doesn’t this inhibit me for some months, as Harrington said?”

“I don’t believe so,” Grant answered.

“The way in which you take up the post will remove any suspicion that you are connected with us. Besides which, we intend to recall Swallow. Her connection with the Daughter and the dissident contacts has gone on long enough. The Russians will be busy watching her replacement to see if Swallow’s pattern repeats itself. It won’t, of course, because you will be acting instead. Anything else? “

“Who will my immediate superior be?” Spencer Barr asked.

“The senior trade councillor, he’s an old Moscow man. But he’ll be instructed to give you a free hand. Your job is to position the Daughter so that she gets to the rendezvous point where Harrington and Miss. Graham can pick her up. Your responsibility ends once she’s made contact with them.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jeremy sat back. Grant sat down and the Brigadier gave a little cough to gain their attention.

“Grant has given you the bare outline,” he said.

“You will each receive your personal instructions with details like timetables, hotels, emergency contacts and your contact in East Berlin, who’ll pass you on. I needn’t stress how important this mission is. If it fails we may find that Sasanov is useless to us, because he believes we betrayed his trust. That is one reason why Miss. Graham has very gallantly offered to go. He has a high regard for her and complete faith in her integrity. This is a good opportunity to congratulate her on a superb job; we owe Sasanov’s cooperation entirely to her skill in managing him.” He smiled at Davina, and Grant managed a wintry grimace.