The Defector (24 page)

“I needn’t impress on any of you how dangerous it is to try and abstract a Russian national. And not only are your lives at stake, and the Daughter’s, if anything goes wrong;

but we shall almost certainly lose a number of agents and a network that has taken a long time to establish. Harrington, you’re the experienced operator in the field. You’ll have plenty of back-up, which you’ll be told about in due course. Spencer-Barr has an equally difficult task, but he will have the Embassy to cover for him, and he can claim diplomatic immunity if he gets into trouble. You and Davina, Harrington, are out in the open. I have to say this when I send people out. If you get caught, we know nothing about you. And there won’t be much we can do to help you for a very long time. If ever. Is that clear? “

“Quite clear,” Davina said.

“Yes.” Harrington and Spencer-Barr nodded together.

“Good,” the Brigadier said.

“I hand you over now to Grant’s chaps. They’ll start kit ting you out with everything you’ll need. Spencer-Barr, you’re due to leave at the end of the week. I shan’t see any of you again till you come home. So I’ll wish you luck now. ” He shook hands with them in turn. He murmured to Davina, “Take care, my dear. Remember, you asked to do this.”

“I know I did,” she said.

“Don’t worry about me.” They went down in the lift together.

“A week,” Spencer-Barr said.

“That’s rather quick, isn’t it?”

“Time enough to stick on a false beard,” Harrington grinned. Spencer-Barr gave him a cold look.

“You’re the one who’s going to need that,” he said. The lift doors opened and they came out. Davina nudged Harrington.

“He won that round,” she said.

“For the first and last time,” Peter Harrington said.

“Come on, let’s get a cup of coffee.”

“I won’t, thanks,” she said.

“I want to get on as quickly as possible.

I’ll clear up some stuff that needs filing. You can give me dinner tonight.

“Delighted.” He looked pleased.

“Where shall I pick you up?”

“At Burton Court, Flat 5. I suppose I’m allowed to go home” I should expect so. The form is to gather us all under one roof forty-eight hours before we go. Or it used to be. Things may have changed. ” She went on to the little office which had been closed up during her months away and spent the rest of the late afternoon filing copies of her last report on Sasanov, and going through her desk, putting papers through the shredder. The calendar was unchanged at the date when she first went to Halldale Manor. November 7th of the previous year. Now it was June. Eight months. It felt like her whole life. She put a call through to Grant’s office to check that she could be found at her own flat, and was told to go down to the language centre the next morning for her first briefing on the latest colloquialisms in Germany. The building also housed the forgeries and special effects department. She would have a busy time. Humphrey Grant spoke to the Brigadier on the telephone.

“I let them go home,” he said.

“She stayed in her office clearing up till nearly seven. No telephone calls. Arrived at her flat without any detours. Harrington arrived at eight and they left for a Chelsea restaurant by 8:45. Harrington had gone back to his place by 6:40; he made three calls, they’re all being checked. Then on to Burton Court and out to dinner. Spencer-Barr stayed in his office, clearing up, then drove to the International Sportsman’s Club and played squash. He went home too and hasn’t been out. His calls are being checked out. The girlfriend is staying with him.”

“Well,” James White said, ‘we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we? ” He was relaxing in a big armchair, with a glass of port beside him. His wife was reading on the other side of the fireplace; the room was warm and subtly lit with lamps, and a picture light showing off a fine Raeburn portrait of an officer in scarlet and white. There was a long military tradition in the Brigadier’s family.

“Yes,” Grant agreed.

“But if anything is going to bring our friend, the Mole, out into the open, it’s this. Goodnight, Chief” Goodnight,” the Brigadier said, and putting the receiver down, he reached for his port.

“Is it true? Did you really volunteer for this just to convince Ivan the Terrible we were playing straight with him?” Davina put her glass of wine down. Dinner was over and they were talking over coffee. Harrington hadn’t drunk anything but water.

“Partly,” she said.

“And partly on my own account.”

“I don’t see it,” he said.

“It’s a high-risk operation; you’ve no practical field experience. I can’t think why the hell they ever let you in on it in the first place.”

“Because I suggested it,” she answered.

“I asked to be allowed to go.”

“You still haven’t said why,” he reminded her. She hesitated. She had resolutely turned his questions about Sasanov whenever he asked them; now she was no longer in contact with him, and Harrington was in the same position of trust as herself. It would be a relief to talk to someone who might understand.

“I got myself into a mess,” she said.

“This seemed the best way out of it.”

“No wonder you’re in this bloody outfit,” Peter exclaimed.

“Can’t you give a straight answer? What sort of a mess” I got involved with him,” she said.

“Is that clear enough for you?”

“Oh, Christ,” he groaned.

“It’s beginning to be. Bed and the rest of it. Doesn’t sound like you.”

“No, I’m sure it doesn’t.” Her tone was sharp.

“Doesn’t sound like good old frigid Davy, who wouldn’t look at a man. And no man would look at her. But it happens he did.” She searched for a cigarette, and lit it before he could find his lighter.

“And that’s what brought him round,” he suggested. He didn’t know whether she was angry or upset; her cheeks were very pink.

“Well done. You’re a very attractive woman. “

“Then why were you so surprised?” she countered.

“I’m not a very attractive woman, Peter, and you know it. But he liked me, and I suppose it was the first time anyone had ever wanted me. Not loved me, but wanted me. Must sound ridiculous to you, but there it is.”

“So you fell in love with him,” he said quietly.

“I see.”

“No, you don’t.” She stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette.

“I didn’t fall in love like some sickly old maid. I liked him first. I liked him in bed and I liked him as a person. And then, after a time I got fond of him. He used to get very depressed, worrying about his wife and daughter. They meant so much to him and he couldn’t relate to Britain or the West at all. He had to have them with him before he could face the future as an exile. And I’d promised him they were safe and we’d get them out if they wanted to come. I had to keep his hope alive. You get very close to someone when you’re doing that. I always had this idea at the back of my mind-that I should carry the promise through and go and get them. I don’t know why, because at that time I wasn’t nearly so mixed up with him. Maybe I was getting there and didn’t know it.”

“Funny,” Harrington said.

“If you were in love with him, you wouldn’t have wanted his wife and daughter to come over, would you? Not even a spot of jealousy?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“I just wanted him to be happy.” He gave her a quizzical look.

“You really do care about him, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said.

“But that’s the point of this. We’ve got no future;

he has to have someone else. And I’ve got to get him out of my system. This is the way to do it. “

“And do the Chief and old Sea-Green know any of this?” he asked her.

“They know some of it,” she said.

“I didn’t say we were sleeping together, and when they were investigating the fire at Halldale they went snooping round everyone, including me. So they found out. The Chief wasn’t very pleased because I hadn’t included it in my report.”

“I can imagine.” Harrington watched her take another cigarette out and this time he was ready to light it for her. She was very strung up while she talked; he noticed the slight tremor in her hand, the nervous smoking.

“I stood up to him over Sasanov’s daughter. I told him we’d promised to get his family out, and if we didn’t he would probably go back and give himself up.” She smiled a sour little smile for a moment.

“That’s when he told me we couldn’t let Sasanov go. So much for promises.”

“It must have shaken you,” he said.

“Your first experience of perfidious Albion in St. James’s Place?”

“I was disgusted,” she said.

“I let them see it.”

“I’ll bet you did,” he said softly.

“And then you volunteered to go into Russia like Joan of Arc and bring the daughter back? I wish I’d seen their faces.”

“The only time they looked a bit odd was when I suggested taking you,” she retorted. Harrington grinned.

“Touche. So you went back and gave Ivan the news. How did he react? ” She hesitated for a moment, turned the cigarette over in her fingers.

“He didn’t want me to go,” she said. Harrington leaned forward and tipped more wine into her glass.

“That sounds to me as if he was hooked on you too,” he said.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Davina answered.

“He’s gone to Grant’s people and I’ll never see him again. Which is just as well. Let’s get the bill, shall we? It’s been a very long day.” He came out onto the pavement, and they waited for a taxi.

“What’s happened to your car?” he asked.

“Gone into the pool: I couldn’t use one after Halldale.”

“I thought that’s where you were hiding Ivan,” he said.

“You and he were bloody lucky not to get fried to a crisp in that place.”

“We certainly were.” She tugged at his arm.

“There’s a cab!”

“How did you manage to escape?”

“We weren’t there,” she said. The cab pulled into the kerb and he opened the door for her.

“I’ll drop you first, Davina… Where were you then?” She didn’t know how triumphant she sounded.

“We stopped off at a motel. He wanted to go to bed with me.” Harrington glanced at her, and then the old casual grin appeared and he hooked his hand through her arm and squeezed it.

“You must be quite something, darling. I’ll have to see if I can live up to all this when we’re in Russia.” The safe house in Hampshire had been bought by the Ministry of Defence as an officers’ training college. It was an ugly mid-Victorian mansion, the monument to a successful City merchant whose descendants had been only too glad to get rid of it after the war. It had a great advantage in its dual role of putting likely young officers through assault courses and the rougher arts of war, and of accommodating a team of experts in complete seclusion. It was not, by any standards, warm. Its polished floors and bare staircase gave it a public-school atmosphere, which made some of its incumbents nostalgic for the discomforts of their youth. The quarters set aside for Sasanov and Grant’s team were in the south wing; they were centrally heated, close-carpeted and served by a special staff and a separate kitchen. Sasanov looked out of the window onto the parkland. The window was open, and faint shouts of mock battle drifted across the warm summer air. The man assigned to him in place of Davina was setting up a chess-board in the room; he was John Kidson, who had collected him from the flat. He glanced at the Russian’s broad back from time to time. He stood like a tree, blocking out the light. Kidson spoke Russian, Polish and Hungarian, and he was ten years older than Sasanov. He had seen a long and arduous service in the Balkans during the war, and his gifts for insinuating himself into other men’s confidence had been invaluable in dealing with the partisans. He had been Sasanov’s constant companion for the last three days. Grant had made a brief appearance, shaken hands with the Russian and told him that everything was being set up and would be ready for him before the end of the week. In the interim, he must try and relax and not attempt to discipline his memory. It would work better without pressure. He hoped that Kidson was looking after him. Kidson proceeded very slowly. He didn’t intrude on Sasanov.

“If you want to be alone,” he said the first day, ‘for God’s sake say so.

I’ll take myself off for a walk. If you want a game, or just to chat, I’m here. But I won’t be a nuisance to you. ” Sasanov had been dour, but he didn’t ask Kidson to leave him. He didn’t want to be left alone. He seemed content to read the papers or spend time staring out of the window. On the second evening they had a game of chess and to Sasanov’s amazement Kidson beat him. After that they played through until the small hours.

“It’s set up,” Kidson said.

“Do you want a game?” Sasanov turned round slowly.

“What are all those shouts outside?”

“Officers’ training course. They’re quite tough, you know. These chaps are rather select material; I wouldn’t like to go through their training here.” Sasanov’s expression was cynical.

“The next war won’t be fought by armies. You’re wasting your time teaching men how to be conventional soldiers. The war will be over in twelve hours.”

“If it’s nuclear, of course,” Kidson agreed.

“But there might be a quick land-attack without the ultimate weapons. Otherwise what’s the point of an army your size? And a navy and air force?”

“It supports our economy,” Sasanov said.

“And it fright ens the world. When Russia fights, it will be to obliterate the enemy. Satellite-based missiles. A lightning strike so fast and instantaneous that there won’t be time for full reprisals. We’ll lose a city or two Moscow, Leningrad. You will lose the war before you’ve had time to fight it. That’s what will happen. ” He closed the window.

“Do you want a game?” Kidson repeated. Sasanov sat down heavily, dropping his weight into the chair.

“No. I’d like a drink.”

“Of course.” Kidson poured them a glass each of the Stolnychaya that the Russian liked.

“I’ve never quite believed in what you say,” he said after a while.

“If the Soviet Union is going to turn the Western world into a wasteland, what good will it be to her if she is the victor? At the present calculation, nuclear war would make the areas affected totally uninhabitable for a period of at least fifty years. Even then the mutations in plant life would make it impossible to cultivate the land; the seas would be empty, the whole balance of nature which makes life possible would have been irrevocably upset. You’d rule over a graveyard.”