Breaking Cover

by Stella Rimington

  Miles grinned. ‘It would have been sensational if you’d discovered that a great British sporting icon was being run by the FSB. How Putin would have laughed!’

  ‘That’s a thought,’ said Liz. ‘I wonder if we’d have got more powers to investigate, when the fans found out.’

  ‘We’d have all got the sack as a useless waste of space,’ said Miles, laughing. ‘Except for you,’ he teased her. ‘You and your team would have been promoted. Speaking of which, what have you done with Peggy? Have you given her the weekend off?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ Liz said with mock-severity. ‘She’s solving the mystery of Mrs Patricov, I hope. But, Miles, I can’t thank you enough for sending Mischa our way. He gave us the lead that kick-started the whole investigation.’

  ‘Glad to help,’ he said casually, but Liz knew it wouldn’t have been that easy. Miles would have had to persuade his colleagues to give her access to such a valuable source. She knew Andy Bokus was directing CIA counter-intelligence in Europe, and couldn’t believe he would have been happy about the Brits seeing Mischa on their own.

  ‘I’m afraid it won’t be happening again in future,’ said Miles.

  ‘Oh?’ Had Bokus won a rearguard action against further Anglo-American cooperation?

  ‘Mischa’s gone back to Moscow. He’s told us he doesn’t want to help any more.’

  Liz said, ‘Maybe his brother’s left the FSB.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. It’s more to do with Mischa himself. He’s scared, I think. Now that he’s living directly under the Putin regime, he’s suddenly realised the risks he’s been running. I suppose the prospect of a firing squad does concentrate the mind.’

  There was a knock on the door and Peggy came in looking cheerful. Miles leaped to his feet and Peggy smiled and blushed slightly.

  ‘Good morning, Miles,’ she said. ‘You look very relaxed.’

  ‘I can afford to,’ he replied. ‘You’ve been doing all the work. Have a seat.’ He offered her his chair. ‘I’ll prop up the desk.’

  ‘This office is ridiculously small,’ said Liz, ‘but I daren’t complain or I might lose it altogether. So what’s the news?’

  ‘Exactly what we thought,’ said Peggy. ‘It’s her all right. Mrs Patricov and Tim’s email friend Marina are one and the same.’

  ‘Tim recognised the photograph then?’

  ‘Yes. He was quite sure.’

  ‘Just a minute,’ Miles broke in. ‘Before you two get all carried away, can you explain what you’re talking about? Who is Tim again?’

  Liz explained. ‘Mrs Patricov, or Marina as she also called herself, chatted up someone named Tim at a lecture Jasminder gave at King’s College, London.’

  ‘Oh yes, I remember that from our meeting. The woman was called Marina.’

  ‘Right. She gave him that phone, which you heard Charlie Simmons talking about at the meeting. When Mrs Patricov was caught yesterday with Hansen – Karpis – it got us wondering whether she might be the mysterious Marina. And thanks to Tim, we now know she is.’

  Miles nodded. ‘So you’ve uncovered the Illegals partnership that Mischa was talking about, right? The pincer operation. Karpis and Mrs Patricov are its two jaws.’

  ‘Yes, I’m confident they are. It seems to have been originally designed to infiltrate the civil liberties movement but then they got an unexpected bonus – Jasminder was recruited by Six and Tim turned out to live with an MI5 officer. So their focus changed, though fairly soon I think they decided to drop Tim since he didn’t tell them anything and concentrate on Jasminder, who was both wonderfully positioned and more vulnerable. Hansen seems to have been very clever about the way he manipulated her. No doubt we’ll hear all about how it was done when Geoffrey reports back on his interview with her.’

  ‘Poor thing,’ said Peggy. ‘It must be so dreadful for her. Will it be all right for me to get in touch?’

  ‘You should wait till we hear from Geoffrey. I expect Six have put her somewhere safe until they decide what to do next.’

  They sat in silence for a moment, thinking about the full implications of what had happened.

  ‘Will Ms Kapoor have to face charges?’ asked Miles.

  ‘I doubt it,’ replied Liz. ‘I don’t suppose she gave them anything of much value. From what Bruno said after he’d taken her out, she seemed to be thrashing around in a very unfocused way. But obviously she’ll have to go.’

  ‘I wonder what she’ll do next.’

  ‘Hard to say,’ said Liz. ‘If she wanted to, I’m sure she could go back into a civil liberties job. No one in the outside world will know why she resigned; I imagine the press will blame MI6 – say that C’s campaign for openness was just a sham, as evidenced by Jasminder’s quick departure. Six may have to put up with that – it’s better than having the real story get out, since then the press would take the opposite line, and ask in outraged tones how the Service could hire someone so obviously untrustworthy.’ She shook her head wearily. ‘But anyway, Jasminder will know why she left, and she’ll know that we know. I imagine it’s going to be difficult for her – emotionally, if not professionally.’

  ‘Case closed then,’ said Miles, getting up from the corner of the desk. He turned to Peggy. ‘Congratulations on a job well done. Could we have a drink some time to celebrate?’

  ‘I’d like that,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘I’m due back at the Embassy now; the Ambassador’s having a do for the staff. But I’ll be in touch soon.’

  After he’d gone Liz looked at Peggy, and they both smiled. ‘He’s really sweet,’ said Peggy.

  ‘Sweet on you, I think you mean,’ teased Liz, pleased to see her blush. It was clear to Liz that Peggy’s life with Tim was over. She had already told him she wanted to move out of their flat to be closer to work, and from her account of the conversation it seemed clear that he’d understood this meant moving without him. It was sad in many ways, but he’d done too much damage to make their relationship recoverable. He was contrite, but that did not alter the fact that he’d done it.

  Still, there was Miles Brookhaven to take Peggy’s mind off Tim. Liz found herself wondering what it would be like to have that kind of prospect in her own life. After Martin’s death she had thought she would never want to be close to anyone again – she would concentrate on her work and have her memories and that would be enough. She didn’t know if that had changed – or if it ever would. But now that Martin had gone, for the first time for years she had no one to share her relief that the case was over – no one to relax with. There was a cold empty void in her life, one that used to be filled with the warmth of their close mutual attachment. It was a gap that one day – she had no idea when – she would like to fill.

  55

  Miles had been gone for ten minutes and Peggy had just come back with much-needed coffee for them both when Liz’s phone rang.

  She picked it up and a familiar voice said, ‘Fane here.’

  ‘Hello, Geoffrey. I was about to ring you. We’ve just been having a wash-up with Miles. Tim, the lecturer from King’s, has definitely identified Marina as Mrs Patricov. I’ve also heard from Chief Constable Pearson in Manchester. Apparently Hansen–Karpis hasn’t said a word, but Pearson thinks Mrs Patricov will sing like a bird when Bruno and I question her. But any news of Jasminder?’ She hadn’t yet heard the details of Fane’s interview with her.

  There was a long pause at the other end of the line. Finally he said, ‘There is actually. I’m afraid it’s bad.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’m very sorry to tell you that Jasminder’s dead.’

  ‘Dead?’ said Liz. Her stomach lurched. She could see Peggy watching her. Her face had gone pale. ‘What happened?’ Liz asked.

  ‘Drowned,’ said Fane. He sounded short of breath. ‘Her body was found this morning under the Albert Bridge. Apparently, she jumped off Tower Bridge last night. A woman in a flat overlooking the bridge saw her and phoned the police. There was a ma
n nearby but she’d gone over before he could stop her. The tide was coming in fast and they’ve been looking for her all night. It wasn’t until low tide that they found her. The only identification was a receipt from a shop where she’d paid by credit card. It’s taken this long to confirm it was her.’

  ‘You’re saying she jumped into the river?’ Liz could see Peggy’s enquiring expression, and could do nothing but look back at her grimly.

  ‘Apparently. There’s no question of her being pushed. The woman in the riverside flat saw it all quite clearly and was on the phone immediately.’ Fane paused for a moment then went on, speaking quickly. ‘Jasminder had already resigned from the Service. I made it quite clear that we weren’t going to prosecute her and that we’d help her in every way we could. I was very sympathetic; I didn’t criticise her or blame her in any way—’ His voice faltered; he was obviously upset.

  ‘I’m sure you dealt with it perfectly, Geoffrey. None of this is your fault. It sounds as if you couldn’t have been kinder to her.’

  Fane waited a moment to reply. ‘It’s good of you to say so, but I can’t help feeling – I mean, I was the one who questioned her. We’d prepared a safe house for her to go to while I finished the questioning; then we were going to discuss how she was to deal with the media. But I agreed she could go home to collect her things. I should have sent someone with her, but I didn’t. That was my fault.’

  It was clear that all this had deeply shaken Fane – he who had so opposed Jasminder’s appointment must have come round to it. He would have been terribly shocked at first to learn of her betrayal. Or was that too strong a word? No, thought Liz. Admittedly Jasminder had been pressurised into doing wrong, which made it explicable – but not, Liz thought, defensible. Jasminder could have asked for help as soon as Laurenz Hansen had turned the screw. That had been her fatal mistake, ‘fatal’ now being the word.

  ‘There will be a memorial service of course,’ Fane said, as he regained his composure. ‘In the meantime we’ll have the press to deal with.’

  ‘Yes. That will be bad for a time; the media will blame us – that’s inevitable. It’s more important that you don’t blame yourself. You did what you had to do, and you could have been much harder on her than you were.’

  ‘Well, I must have been hard enough,’ said Fane bitterly. Liz realised there was nothing more she could say to help him. She muttered a few more words of sympathy, then Fane said goodbye abruptly.

  Putting down the phone, Liz looked at an anxious Peggy.

  ‘Jasminder’s dead, isn’t she?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. She was found drowned in the river this morning. She jumped off Tower Bridge last night.’

  Tears welled up in Peggy’s eyes. ‘That’s a horrible way to go. She must have been desperate. What on earth made her do… that?’ Then she shook her head abruptly. ‘What a stupid question.’

  Liz said, ‘She must have found it impossible to see a way through. She was going to have to leave the Service; she would have had to explain why it hadn’t worked out, and what had gone wrong. It would all have been lies, too, because she wouldn’t have been allowed to explain what had really happened. And then what could she have done next? I suppose she couldn’t see a way forward.’

  Peggy slumped in her seat. ‘I feel terrible. I think she and I could have become good friends. But instead I helped unearth her secrets.’

  ‘You didn’t have a choice,’ said Liz. ‘You did the right thing. Think of how you’d feel, possibly years from now, if she’d stayed in place and relayed intelligence to the Russians. You’d have been like all those colleagues of Philby, Burgess and Maclean who couldn’t believe that their friends could be spies. But instead you did your job, and helped expose a plot that could have done tremendous damage to the country.’

  Peggy sighed. ‘I’m sure you’re right. And thank you for the kind words.’ She stood up. ‘I think I might go for a walk, if you don’t mind. I’d like to clear my head.’

  ‘Of course. Then go home. You’ve worked hard enough for one week. They’re bringing Karpis and Marina down to Paddington Green police station this afternoon and Bruno and I will start the interviews tomorrow. But I’ll be in the office early on Monday – something new’s come in and I’m going to need your help.’

  Peggy nodded and left the room. Liz sat still for a minute, suddenly feeling overwhelmed herself. She knew she’d been right to speak to Peggy that way, but recognised as well that sometimes the professional requirements of their jobs rode roughshod over personal feelings. It had to be like that, of course, but it didn’t make life any easier. She had her own guilt to bear; if she hadn’t rather mischievously suggested Jasminder to MI6, none of this would have happened.

  Her phone rang again, and reluctantly she answered it. ‘Liz Carlyle.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said a cheerful voice. ‘I guessed you’d be at your desk even though it’s Saturday.’

  ‘Who is that?’ said Liz, feeling annoyed at the intrusion.

  ‘I hope it’s your favourite policeman. For the moment anyway. Chief Constable Pearson at your service, ma’am.’

  Liz smiled. ‘Always a pleasure to speak to you.’

  ‘I’m in Tate Britain. They say the restaurant’s very good here. I hope you haven’t had lunch yet because, on the off chance you’d be free, I’ve booked a table. If you had time, we could look at a picture or two after lunch. I’ve never understood Francis Bacon myself and I thought maybe you could provide a brief tutorial.’

  ‘Fat chance of that.’ Liz glanced out of the window and saw that the river was calmer now, the swell dying as the tide turned. She shivered as she watched it briefly, thinking she would never see it again without remembering Jasminder. Then she said, ‘We might give Francis Bacon a miss this time. But lunch would be lovely, thank you.’

  A NOTE ON THE AUTHOR

  Dame Stella Rimington joined the Security Service (MI5) in 1968. During her career she worked in all the main fields of the Service: counter-subversion, counter-espionage and counter-terrorism. She was appointed Director General in 1992, the first woman to hold the post. She has written her autobiography and nine Liz Carlyle novels. She lives in London and Norfolk.

  BY THE SAME AUTHOR

  The Liz Carlyle series

  At Risk

  Secret Asset

  Illegal Action

  Dead Line

  Present Danger

  Rip Tide

  The Geneva Trap

  Close Call

  Non-fiction

  Open Secret: The Autobiography of the Former Director-General of MI5

  Also available by Stella Rimington

  The Geneva Trap

  A Liz Carlyle novel

  A Russian agent. A deadly secret. The embers of the Cold War are about to about to reignite…

  It all began by accident. Geneva, 2012. When a Russian spy approaches MI6 with vital information about an imminent cyber attack, he refuses to talk to anyone but Liz Carlyle of MI5. But who is he, and what is his connection to Liz? At a US Air Force base in Nevada, officers watch in horror as one of their unmanned drones plummets out of the sky, and panic spreads through the British and American Intelligence services, Is this a Russian plot to disable the West’s defences? Or is the threat coming from elsewhere?

  As Liz and her team hunt for a mole inside the MOD, the trail leads them from Geneva, to Marseilles and into a labyrinth of international intrigue, in a race against time to stop the Cold War heating up once again…

  ‘She bids to join the ranks of such secret agent authors as Somerset Maugham, Graham Greene and John le Carré’ Wall Street Journal

  Click here to order

  Close Call

  A Liz Carlyle novel

  The most dangerous threats are those closest to home

  In a Middle Eastern souk, CIA agent Miles Brook haven was attacked. At the time he was infiltrating rebel groups in the area. No one was certain if his cover had been blown or if the act was just
an arbitrary attack on Westerners. Months later, the incident remains a mystery. Now Liz Carlyle and MI5 have been charged with the task of watching the international under-the-counter arms trade: a trade that has been booming in the wake of the Arab Spring. As the clock counts down, Liz finds herself on a manhunt through Paris and Berlin, and into her own long-forgotten past. A past buried so deep that she never thought it would resurface…

  ‘This is something rare: the spy novel that prizes authenticity over fabrication that is true to the character and spirit of intelligence work’ Mail on Sunday

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  Rip Tide

  A Liz Carlyle novel

  To catch an enemy with nothing to lose, Liz Carlyle must venture into dangerous waters.

  When pirates attack a cargo ship off the Somalian coast and one of them is found to be a British-born Pakistani, alarm bells start ringing at London’s Thames House. MI5 Intelligence Officer Liz Carlyle is brought in to establish how and why a young British Muslim could go missing from his well-to-do family in Birmingham and end up onboard a pirate skiff in the Indian Ocean, armed with a Kalashnikov.

  After an undercover operative connected to the case turns up dead in the shipping office of an NGO in Athens it looks like piracy may be the least of the Service’s problems. Liz and her team must unravel the connections between Pakistan, Greece and Somalia, relying on their wits – and the judicious use of force – to get to the truth. And they don’t have long, as trouble is brewing closer to home: the kind of explosive trouble that MI5 could do without …

  Stella Rimington, former Director General of MI5, returns with a tense and heart-stopping spy thriller where the secrets are deep, the stakes are high and the enemy is always just out of sight.

  ‘She uses her knowledge of covert spy operations to create powerful story lines that are exciting yet plausible’ Daily Express

  Click here to order

  http://www.bloomsbury.com/author/stella-rimington/

  First published in Great Britain 2016

  This electronic edition published in 2016 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc