The Defector (26 page)

Jeremy Spencer-Barr stepped off the plane at Sheremetyevo airport just a week after Michael Barker began enjoying an unexpected holiday in Portugal, courtesy of the Foreign Office. He had never felt better in his life, and never connected the sudden attack of pain and dizziness in Moscow with the cup of tea he had been given by one of the secretaries. Spencer-Barr was met at the airport by an Embassy car and a junior trade official. His arrival was noted by the Soviet authorities. Their interest in him was perfunctory because the replacement for Elizabeth Cole came on the same flight and shared his car. She was a particularly goodlooking girl, and her photograph, along with Jeremy’s, was taken under cover in the arrivals hall. As the car turned into the commercial section of the British Embassy on Kutuzovsky Prospekt, Jeremy looked out of the window at his new, unfamiliar surroundings and mentally prepared himself to make a good impression on the Head of Chancery, the man for whom he would ostensibly be working. Jeremy always took great pains to impress his superiors, and he was determined to make the most of the Moscow assignment as a step up in his career. Humphrey Grant took off his jacket and lowered himself into an armchair. He stretched wearily, and sighed. It was a contented sound;

he glanced across at John Kidson. Each man had a whisky and soda beside him; there was an hour before dinner, and they had finished their session with Sasanov. It was the end of the first seven days, and already the results were startling.

“Well,” said Grant, “I can do with a drink tonight. And I think we’ve earned one.”

“We have indeed,” Kidson said.

“He seems to unroll it like a tape.

I’ve never come across a more detailed memory. “

“Photographic,” Grant agreed.

“The more we ask, the quicker he gives the answers and more besides. It’s as if some kind of mental evacuation is taking place.”

“Emotional too.” Kidson drank some of his whisky.

“He’s very wound up. He’s made his decision and there’s part of him that wants to get it over. And to make it final by holding nothing back. Once or twice I wondered whether it wasn’t coming too easily. ” Grant glanced up sharply.

“What do you mean?”

“You remember how long it took to get real information out of Perekov? Apart from the preliminary softening up that was months, even longer than Sasanov. And then when he came down here it was like pulling teeth for the first few weeks. Until he became acclimatized to saying things he’d been conditioned never to talk about. It’s a painful process, undoing the psychological knots that have been tied up all your life. Treason isn’t easy, and whatever these jokers tell you, to them it’s still treason and the West is still the enemy. They have to turn themselves inside out before they cooperate properly. “

“And you don’t think Sasanov’s done that?” Grant’s voice was sharp.

“You’re not suggesting he’s telling us a prepared scenario? For Christ’s sake! ” He sat bolt upright and put his drink down. He was seldom if ever heard to swear.

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Kidson said.

“I’m just speculating clearing my own mind, that’s all. I find him a puzzle.

I find his attitude uncanny; that sounds a silly word to use, but it fits somehow. He’s doing something he hates doing, and he seems to be taking a kind of perverse pleasure in it. I think he’s under some very strong pressure.”

“What kind of pressure?”

“I don’t know,” Kidson said.

“Whatever it is, it’s tearing him to pieces.”

“Everything he’s told us has been checked and so far it’s right,” Grant muttered.

“I’m going to see the Chief tomorrow morning and I’d like a report from you, setting out what you’ve told me.”

“Certainly,” Kidson said.

“I’ll put it together this evening. Don’t get alarmed, Humphrey; you know me, I’m always looking into corners. We’ve got someone so important in this chap that we can’t afford to be complaisant. Personally I think he’s straight, and that side worries me as much as the other possibility. We need to settle him down; we need to have him on our side and cooperating every step of the road after we’ve collated all the information. “

“That’s why we’ve sent a team into Russia,” Grant argued.

“He knows that. He knows we’re going to try and get his daughter out and bring her to him. That ought to provide him with his anchor.”

“It should do, yes. Funnily enough, the only outside question he’s asked me since we came here was about Davina Graham. Anyway I’ll type up my opinion and you can discuss it with the Chief, Finish your drink, Humphrey. I could do with dinner; these long sessions make me hungry.”

“Thanks to you,” Grant said sourly, “I’ve lost my appetite.” Tames White had the map of the Middle East set up on the office wall, replacing the large-scale one of Europe which normally hung there. He and Grant stood in front of it. For nearly three days, they had been studying the information supplied by Sasanov, going over it point by point, cross-checking as much as possible with their own sources of information. At one stage White had said, “Good God he can’t be working for them,” and then gone on reading.

“So the picture is beginning to emerge,” he said to Grant.

“Afghanistan is one vast military base, ICBM sites aimed at China;

nuclear strike forces in easy reach of every major city in India and Pakistan. We’ve had enough information to suspect it was pretty bad, but not as bad as this. Iran is still anybody’s guess. President Rezai is holding it together by the skin of his teeth; Communist-aligned Fedayeen and Moslem revolutionaries; Kurds, Baluchis, Bakhtiari, all trying to fly at each other’s throats. Of course, the Russians won’t need to do anything, it’ll happen by itself. Chaos followed eventually by a “socialist” government with Moscow alignment. This is what worries me. ” He pointed with a ruler at the cluster of the United Arab Emirates, Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Oman and Saudi Arabia.

“If Sasanov’s right, they’ve made a massive penetration in the area. It’s a time-bomb, ready to blow the Western oil sky high. Which will mean American armed intervention. I think I shall have to go and see the Prime Minister and make a report on this. We shall have to bring in the Americans sooner rather than later. ” He turned away and went back to his desk. His expression was grim.

“Do you really believe that they’ve got these people in their pay?” He had a thick folder in front of him, containing a resume of Sasanov’s information. Kidson’s report was beside it.

“The King’s favourite son… and this man… Good God, he’s been a friend to the West for twenty years! I can accept some of the others; if you look at Dubai it’s not surprising. It’s a pure power-struggle between their man and the ruling family. “

“All this presupposes that he’s telling the truth,” Grant said.

“You’ve read Kidson’s report he’s got some doubt nagging away at him. And he’s not easy to fool.” James White said, “He’s the best there is, at this stage. I think he’s worried because the normal pattern is different in this case. Sasanov isn’t behaving according to the rules for a top-placed Soviet defector. But so long as this is proved right, and so far we’ve got no reason to dispute it, that’s all that matters.”

“According to Sasanov, this is just surface stuff,” Grant said.

“He hasn’t even started on motives and methods yet;

in-depth studies are going to take months, in conjunction with our own experts and the Americans. What shall I tell Kidson? “

“Tell him to get everything out of him. And not to worry about the authenticity, that’s our problem. Just keep Sas anov talking and talking.

I’ll drop down in a week and see you all. But I’ve got to take this to the top. I think she’ll be rather pleased with the Department, don’t you, Humphrey?” Grant twitched his mouth into a tight smile.

“I think so, Chief.”

“Your German’s pretty good,” Peter Harrington said.

“Where on earth did you learn a Bavarian accent?” They were strolling up the Kurfurstendam, part of a slow-moving crowd of shoppers and sightseers.

“I spent six months in Munich,” Davina said.

“Being finished, or rather finished off. I loathed it.”

“Why? Munich’s a lovely place the people are quite jolly too.”

“Not in the school I went to,” she retorted.

“It was dreadfully snobbish, with Baroness this and Countess the other, and the few English girls were the worst. We met selected young men from nice families, and trailed round the art galleries and museums, and looked at the ruins left by Allied bombing it was all right if you were pretty and extrovert. I wasn’t. I just learned German, that’s all. My parents were far more disappointed that I wasn’t a social success;

they didn’t seem to notice that I was almost bilingual in six months. “

“I get the feeling,” Peter said, ‘that you’ve quite a bit of resentment against your family. You weren’t the favourite, I take it? ” She laughed.

“Favourite? God that’s a joke. My brother was killed in a plane crash he was training for the Fleet Air Arm; and that left my beautiful sister, Charlotte, and ugly old me. No, I certainly wasn’t the favourite child. “

“Aren’t they proud of you now?” he asked her. They were I walking the wide central thoroughfare; he stopped to look | in one of the elegant shops. There was a window display | of very expensive handbags, and silk scarves. | “They don’t know anything about my job,” she answered. | “That’s nice, that maroon bag with the scarf it must be | Hermes, they do the most gorgeous designs. I bet it costs I a fortune.” 3 “What do they think you do then?” Harrington asked. | They began to walk on. 1 “They think I’m personal assistant to the Chief,” she said. j “He and my father have known each other for years. My mother tries to be tactful and asks how I’m getting on, 1 rather like talking to someone about school.

“How’s the work going” - you know the sort of thing and then drops 1 hints about career women ending up lonely old maids. She means well but I find it embarrassing. “

“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully.

“You’re a damned attractive woman. I’ve told you so before, and I mean it. Especially in the last year, you take a lot of trouble with yourself. Don’t you want to get married? You could pick and choose, you know.” She smiled; an ironic smile followed by an impatient shake of the head.

“I had one try,” she said.

“I got myself a nice suitable man, and he ran off with my sister and married her instead.”

“Charming,” Peter Harrington said.

“She must be a real blossom.”

“Oh, don’t make any mistake,” Davina said.

“If you met her you’d be bowled over, just like everyone else. There’s never been a man who didn’t fall head over heels as soon as he saw her except one.” She quickened the pace. Harrington looked at her; there was a slight curve on her mouth, almost a smile.

“And who was that?” She gave him a mischievous sideways glance.

“Ivan the Terrible,” she said.

“He preferred me. Let’s go in and have a cold drink; I’m thirsty.”

“There’s a cafe there,” Harrington steered her towards it. ‘lust tell me, how in hell did Ivan ever meet your sister? “

“Because I took him home for the weekend,” she said liehtly.

“They thought he was a Pole, from the Embassy. It was quite an interesting experiment. It doesn’t matter telling you about it now. I got permission from the Chief, and we spent the weekend at home. That’s when I went to bed with him for the first time. And there was my sister waiting for him to knock on her door. It was quite funny, looking back…” They sat at a table on the pavement. A waitress came over for their order.

“Two beers, please.” Harrington offered her a cigarette.

“You know I feel rather jealous?”

“Don’t be silly,” Davina said gently.

“You don’t feel anything of the sort. You can’t help chatting me up, Peter, just to keep in practice. Not that I mind; but don’t expect me to take any notice, will you? “

“That’s up to you,” he said. The cunning bastard, he thought to himself. He knew how to get his hooks into her.

“He preferred me.” No wonder she’d fallen in love with him. But he said nothing; they drank the cold beer and watched the crowds pass by on that lovely summer day. There was a distinctive atmosphere about West Berlin; there was gaiety and life, and exhilaration that was infectious. And through the heart of the city ran the obscene Wall, with its watch towers and barbed wire and the armed Vopos patrolling, their machine pistols ready. And behind that wall there lived the luckless members of the German Democratic Republic. They were due to cross into the East the following morning. Harrington had booked seats on the morning bus that went through Checkpoint Charlie; they held Federal Republic passports in the names of Dieter and Helga Jaeger. An elderly aunt in the Eastern Zone; duly provided by the Chief’s East German network, would be waiting on the other side of the checkpoint when they disembarked. Davina had seen photograph of her, dressed in the clothes she would be wearing. She had memorized it at the language centre. On the way back to their hotel, Harrington stopped at the bag shop.

“Let’s pop inside and ask how much that is,” he suggested. She started to refuse but he had gone in and she had to follow. He was looking at the maroon leather bag and scarf she had admired.

“Peter,” she whispered urgently.

“Don’t be silly I can’t take a thing like that with me into the East. It’s obviously made here!”

“It’s a two-way traffic,” he said.

“You could have bought it on a visit to the West. Anyway you like it, and I want to give you a present. So be a good girl and shut up!” He paid, and Davina winced at the price.

“Don’t wrap up the scarf,” he told the salesgirl.

“My wife will wear it.”

“You’re crazy,” she said, when they were outside.

“But it’s lovely. Thank you very much it was a sweet thing to do. “

“Just a token of my esteem,” he grinned.

“Those colours suit you. Come on, we’re going to celebrate our last night of freedom with a bloody good dinner and a bottle of wine. I might even join you in a glass.”

“I think you might,” she told him. This time she took his arm and held it until they reached the door of their hotel. They had dinner in the new Adion Restaurant; the rich German food was accompanied by a superb Rhenish wine. Peter Harrington kept up a continuous line of jokes and nonsense. Neither of them had spoken a word of English since they arrived in Berlin. He kept his promise and only sampled the wine; she felt quite light-headed when they came out into the warm night air and he found a taxi to take them back to the hotel. They had a double room with twin beds. There had been no awkwardness the previous night; Davina was too keyed up to notice who went to the bathroom first to change, or to respond when Harrington tried a feeble joke about living the part. That night was different; the wine had gone to her head, she felt relaxed and affectionate towards him. The expensive bag was on the chest of drawers, the Hermes scarf neatly folded. It was generous of him to buy her a present like that. She wasn’t used to being given things. She undressed first, brushing her teeth with extra care, and making a silly face at herself in the bathroom mirror.