After her traumatic encounter with Kozlov, she had been desperate to see Laurenz, hoping against hope that this nightmare would turn out to be just that – a bad dream – and that what Kozlov had said about Laurenz knowing everything that was happening to her would turn out to be a monstrous lie.
But when Laurenz had returned from Hamilton, she knew at once that Kozlov had been telling the truth. The man who came back to the bungalow was not the charming, loving figure she had fallen for, but a new Laurenz – one who greeted her with a distant, perfunctory smile and an air of calculated detachment.
The rest of the weekend had gone by in a blur. There had been another awful dinner at the club, with Sam pretending to be her friend – Jasminder knew better – and Laurenz placed yet again far down the table. She had been unable to eat a thing, sitting there nauseated by the smell of the heaped plates of food and the great goblets of drink that the men were liberally swilling down, thinking of the threat to little Ali. She had tried to stay awake that night, determined to question Laurenz about what had happened, but he had remained behind at the club and she had fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion, feeling utterly miserable and deeply scared, before he returned.
‘We’ll still be seeing a lot of each other,’ Laurenz told her, as the plane taxied down the runway. ‘In fact, it’s crucial that we do.’
She spoke at last. ‘I don’t know how you think I’m going to get all this information you want. I’ve already told you that I don’t have that kind of access.’
‘But you’re well placed to get it.’ He spoke loudly, to be heard over the noise of the engines as the jet accelerated forward.
‘How can you be so sure?’ Shock was turning to anger now. ‘You know nothing about my work. You’ve completely misled that hideous Koslov, just to boost your own position with whoever it is you really work for. How dare you tell me what I can do when I tell you I can’t?’
‘Of course you can. You just need to use your imagination a bit… and I’m going to help you with that.’ He sighed as though confronted with a stubborn child. ‘Jasminder, you are highly intelligent and very attractive. You must know that.’
‘Don’t you patronise me! I thought you were something different, someone to be admired, and I fell for you, I’ll admit that. But now I know better – you are a ruthless, dishonest bastard and your friend Koslov is worse. If I do anything it will be for Ali – certainly not for you.’
Laurenz shrugged his shoulders as the plane lifted off. It shuddered briefly as it hit a patch of lowlying cloud, then stabilised as they climbed steeply into the clearer sky above. He said, ‘Have it your own way.’
She went on, ‘But I don’t know how you expect me to get hold of all this stuff. What I said to Koslov was true. I don’t see all the things he thinks I do. His list is ridiculous.’
‘Beautiful and intelligent women wield great power. There can’t be many men who wouldn’t be attracted to you.’
‘So what do you expect me to do – seduce C? I happen to know he’s happily married.’
To her great irritation, Laurenz laughed. ‘That’s more like it! This is all a bit of a game, you know. The sooner you see that, the easier it will be for all of us.’
‘Okay,’ said Jasminder, not meaning this at all. ‘What’s the plan? How do you want me to proceed?’ She hated saying the words, but reminded herself that the only reason she was doing this was to keep Ali safe. She was going to look for every chance she could to get back at this man.
‘I need to know everything that comes across your desk. Understood? Everything. And you need to start making friends at work – if necessary, intimate friends.’ His meaning was clear.
She said, ‘It’s not that easy.’
‘Of course it is. I’m sure MI6 people socialise with each other all the time. They have to – all people in intelligence work do. It’s so much easier that way: it means they don’t have to lie about their job, or stay quiet while other people talk about theirs. You’ll soon make lots of friends at Vauxhall; you just need to be more outgoing – and obviously single.’
She was single now, thought Jasminder bitterly. She had gone to Bermuda for a weekend with her boyfriend, and was coming home with a spy.
Laurenz said, ‘I need to know who you have told about us – that you’ve been seeing me.’
When Jasminder hesitated, he said impatiently, ‘Come on. Cooperate. Remember your niece.’
‘I told my mother I had met someone – that was when I Skyped her last. She’s in India. She doesn’t know your name; I was waiting to tell her.’ Her mother was always hoping Jasminder would settle down with a nice Indian boy, and pretending someone called ‘Laurenz Hansen’ was an Indian wasn’t going to work.
‘Who else?’
‘I told my friend Emma.’
‘Ah, yes, the worthy Emma. I don’t think we have to worry about her. I never met her. You must just tell her it didn’t work out with us. What about that friend in Trafalgar Square?’ He was watching her intently.
‘That was Peggy Kinsolving. I told you about her.’
‘Yes, you did. She works for the other mob across the river. Does she know my name?’
Jasminder felt his eyes on her. ‘I can’t remember, but I suppose so.’
‘Have you spoken to her recently?’
‘No. I rang her last week and left a message, but she didn’t reply. I was a bit surprised; I thought I’d try again when I got back. I like her.’
‘Good. I want you to ring her. But I also want you to tell her how upset you are. You and I have split up. We’re still good friends; we’ll still see each other occasionally; but the sex wasn’t working. Have you got that? And don’t think of telling her anything else – like the truth – or I’ll know.’
‘Yes, but she’ll probably be surprised. I told her it was getting serious. And what do you mean, you’ll know?’
He smiled. ‘Don’t think you’re our only source in Britain,’ he said. ‘We have many eyes and ears. So just blame me for the break up – with my divorce pending, I realised I shouldn’t rush into things. I needed time on my own. She’ll understand, I’m sure.’
‘Do you want me to say the same thing to Emma?’
‘Yes, and to anyone else you might have told about me. We’re just friends now… mates as the English like to say… and that will be good enough cover for our meetings.’
‘Some friend!’ She gently stroked the side of her face where Koslov had hit her. It was very tender to the touch, though so far there was no visible bruising. ‘I wish you’d never saved me from the men in that park in Islington. But I suppose that was all a set-up.’ In her mind, Jasminder had been going over the whole of her relationship with Laurenz. ‘I didn’t even work for MI6 in those days. Why did you choose me?’
‘We saw your potential,’ he replied with a grin. ‘But don’t try to work it out. Just focus on how you are going to get the material we want. I’ll be helping you work out your plan at our meetings.’
‘Meetings?’
‘Yes. I’ll want to see you regularly – sometimes at my flat, sometimes in other places. The only difference now is that I’ll be your mentor, not your lover – though we could have sex sometimes if you liked.’
Jasminder shuddered but didn’t reply. She felt sick at the thought of his touching her. The sex, like everything else, had been an act. He had never cared about her at all. He had been reporting everything they’d done to that dreadful Koslov. Between them they’d been manipulating her into a position where she had no choice but to cooperate. Looking at the cool and unemotional expression on his face now, she resolved again to do her very best to destroy him.
Laurenz turned to her and said, ‘Now I think you should try and get some sleep. These chairs are quite comfortable, and you can recline them almost back into a bed. You’ve got a big day tomorrow, and I want you to hit the ground running.’
43
Tim meant well, but he wasn’t much of a housekeeper. By her
third day at home, Peggy was back in charge of the washing machine and the dishwasher. Tim was still cooking his vegetarian meals, though they were no longer the gloopy stews of the past. He’d bought himself a new cookery book and they were now eating rather tasty nut roasts and rissoles which Peggy consumed without complaint, knowing that until she had two working arms again, it was safer for her to keep out of the kitchen.
She stayed at home for a week after she came out of hospital. She was still on painkillers and feeling very tired – shock, the doctor told her. She saw more of Tim than usual, as he worked from home for at least a part of most days. She soon realised that something about him had changed. The pre-accident version of Tim – sulky, snappy, secretive and often aggressive – had been supplanted by a quieter, sadder, man who seemed, frankly, rather embarrassed. He wasn’t the same lovable man she’d lived with for several years, before he’d got involved with the internet chat rooms – the scholar, who’d been full of enthusiasm for his university work, full of ideas but endearingly hopeless at anything practical. This was a third version of Tim – easier to live with than the Snowdenista but sad, even depressed, and if anything too keen to follow Peggy’s lead. She was mystified by the sudden disappearance of the stroppy cynic she’d been living with in the past few months.
Then she learned the cause of this sea change. On the evening before she went back to work, they were sitting over supper when Tim said, ‘I had a visitor when you were in hospital.’
‘Really. Who was it?’
‘Liz Carlyle.’
Peggy was surprised; Liz had come to see her in hospital. Why had she also come to the flat? She said as much now.
Tim stirred his supper with his fork uneasily. ‘She wanted a word with me.’
‘Oh?’ She could see he was feeling awkward.
‘It was about my phone. The iPhone I was given.’
Peggy merely nodded, bracing herself for what was coming next. Doubtless Tim would blame her for mentioning the phone to Liz. There would be the usual rant about the security services, the usual cry that 1984 was here.
But instead he said, very mildly, ‘She seemed to think I’d been very naïve about this woman Marina – exchanging emails then accepting the phone.’
‘Oh,’ said Peggy, startled.
‘Perhaps I have,’ said Tim, looking away. For a terrible moment, Peggy thought he was about to cry. But he pulled himself together and said, ‘Liz took the phone away to have it looked at. She asked me to tell her if I had any more emails from Marina.’
‘I see. Have you?’
‘No, and I don’t expect to. But I’d like you to tell Liz when you see her tomorrow—’ And he stopped, his cheeks flushed.
‘Tell her what?’
‘That I’m sorry and I’ll let you both know if I hear anything.’ He suddenly gulped, and his eyes were misty. ‘I’ve been such a fool.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Peggy softly. ‘I admit this woman Marina has behaved pretty strangely, but it might be quite innocent. Who knows? She might just be a bit of a nut.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Tim sadly, and she could tell from his tone that he didn’t believe Peggy thought so either.
Peggy went back to work early on Monday – she was in the office well before eight o’clock – but Liz was already there. ‘I couldn’t let you beat me in,’ she said with a smile. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Peggy, though one arm was still in a sling. ‘Eager and raring to go.’
‘Let’s have a coffee and I’ll fill you in on what’s been happening,’ said Liz, and they took the lift to the ground-floor café.
‘So how’s Tim?’ asked Liz as they sat down at a corner table.
‘Well, it’s all a bit peculiar. He’s being very nice at the moment – almost weirdly nice. I gather you came to see him while I was in hospital.’
‘I did. I hope you don’t mind, but that phone business alarmed me.’
‘I understand. I thought it seemed very odd too. And I think Tim gets it, now he’s thought about it. Whatever you said, it shook him up. In a good way. It’s as though he’s seen sense.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘He asked me to tell you that if Marina contacts him, we’ll be the first to know.’
‘Excellent.’ Liz seemed a little abstracted.
‘One more thing about that phone,’ said Peggy. ‘It came to me in the hospital, then I forgot about it and I’ve just remembered again. I’ve seen another one just like it.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Liz replied with a smile. ‘Those iPhones are very popular.’
‘No, that’s not what I mean. Another one that’s the same model, the same colour, and which someone had recently been given as a present. It may just be a coincidence – I expect it is – but I thought I should mention it.’
She had Liz’s full attention now. ‘Who had this phone? And who gave it to them?’
‘Jasminder Kapoor. You know, the new Communications Director at Six. I admired it when she put it down on the table the other day while we were having a drink. She told me her boyfriend gave it to her to celebrate her new job. He didn’t seem to realise she couldn’t take it in to work with her.’
‘Who is this boyfriend? Have you met him?’
‘I just saw him fleetingly the other day. He was waiting for her outside the National Gallery and I was walking with her on my way home. His name is Laurenz Hansen. Apparently he’s Norwegian, works for a private bank. He didn’t seem very friendly. She said he’s shy of meeting her friends at present because he’s going through a sticky divorce. Sounded a bit odd, I thought, but maybe it’s different in Norway. She seems devoted to him. She met him when he saved her from some muggers.’
‘I can’t see how meeting her friends could affect his divorce in any country.’
‘That’s what I thought, but maybe he’s afraid they might tell his wife he’s having an affair.’
‘It all sounds rather unlikely.’
‘Yes, it does. But Jasminder seemed to buy it. I only met him by accident. Why, what are you thinking?’
Liz paused for a minute, then she said, ‘I’m thinking this phone business seems quite a coincidence – maybe too much of one. One phone comes from a woman making what looks like a classic approach to Tim, who happens to live with a member of MI5. Then a man gives exactly the same phone to a newly appointed member of MI6.’
‘I know – it’s weird. What have you done with Tim’s phone by the way? Was there anything odd about it?’
‘Well, there was something a bit strange, but I don’t know whether it was sinister or not. The phone had an app on it that Tim was supposed to use to contact Marina. In fact, he said he’d never used it, so presumably the app had never been opened. I sent the phone to Technical Ted upstairs but he couldn’t work out what it was. It was an app he’d never seen before and he couldn’t open it. He said there was nothing else on the phone, which seemed a bit rum since Tim himself told me he had been using it. So the phone has gone to Charlie Simmons in GCHQ and I’m waiting for his report.’
Peggy thought about this for a moment. ‘The only thing is, there’s no connection between Tim and Jasminder. Tim doesn’t even like her; he thought her speech at the university, that evening when I first met her, was wet. And when she came to the flat once so I could help her fill in her application form for the job in Six, he blanked her out.’
Liz leaned across the little table. ‘That’s not the connection I had in mind. I was thinking more about the people who gave them the phones – Marina and this man Laurenz.’
‘Do you think they’re connected?’
‘I’m not sure. But when I saw him in Tallinn, Mischa talked about a pincer movement – that requires two claws. I don’t think we should jump to conclusions yet, but this looks to me horribly like a pincer movement. Two claws closing in on MI6 and MI5. Just what he said.’
‘But Tim’s not in MI5,’ said Peggy, her face suddenly very pale.
‘No, but you are. And they were not to know how close you and Tim were, or whether you took papers home or talked to him about work.’
‘But I never take papers home,’ said Peggy, on the verge of tears, ‘or talk about work to Tim.’
‘I know that, but they must have seen it as a golden opportunity. When they found out what sort of person Tim is, they probably realised they weren’t going to get any further.’
Peggy looked shocked.
‘It’s all right,’ said Liz firmly. ‘Stop thinking about what might have happened. It didn’t. But now we’ve got to make sure we stop this Laurenz character doing whatever he’s up to with Jasminder. Did you see her application form? What did she say about him?’
‘She didn’t mention him, actually. She asked me what I thought and said that she’d only known him a very short time and he’d only stayed at her flat once, so we agreed it didn’t seem to qualify as a cohabiting relationship. But I know that they’re much closer now and she stays with him at his flat, so she should have declared him. Shall I find out?’
‘Yes. Get in touch with Personnel over there and ask them to look at her file. Don’t alarm them, but say they shouldn’t mention it to Jasminder at the moment. We don’t want to set the cat among the pigeons.’
I have a strong feeling that the cat may be alarmingly near the pigeons already, thought Peggy as she got up to go to her office in the open plan. But I haven’t a clue how it got there.
44
Peggy had the bit between her teeth now. She had learned from the Personnel department at MI6 that Jasminder had not declared Laurenz Hansen as her cohabitee. Peggy guessed why – it was part of Laurenz’s exaggerated desire for secrecy. She suspected that he had put pressure on Jasminder to keep their relationship secret, and felt annoyed for her friend. Peggy was increasingly convinced that there was something wrong about Laurenz, and she was determined to find out what it was.
Breaking Cover Page 23