Bomb Grade

by Brian Freemantle

  ‘But look at the timing!’ insisted Fenby. ‘That stuff’s been there leaking for getting on for twenty-four hours now! We’re looking at another Chernobyl!’

  ‘No, we’re not,’ corrected Hillary, not bothering to soften the rejection. ‘Chernobyl was a melt-down, a China Syndrome. And it was an entire reactor: the amount was hugely much greater. But it’s still dangerous. Those poor bastards posted around it are in real trouble if they haven’t got the proper protective clothing and unless it’s sealed pretty damned quick Pizhma – I presume it’s a town or a village – is going to be affected. Other places, too, if there are any, the longer it remains unsealed. I can’t be any more precise until I know positively what was in the canisters and the extent and degree it had been irradiated.’

  Fenby’s concern was such that he did not even notice Hillary’s careless cursing.

  He had a big one here – the biggest of his career so far – of international consequence with the added burden of the House Speaker’s very personal attention. Everything had to be right, exactly right, with no wrong moves and certainly no oversights. Overkill didn’t matter; overkill was fine, in fact, because too much not too little got done in overkill.

  He smiled across the expansive desk at the girl who sat, as she’d sat before, with her legs crossed to display practically the whole length of her thigh. ‘I want to be on top of this, one hundred per cent,’ he said, unthinking of the double entendre that broadened Hillary’s smile. ‘I want you in Moscow.’

  ‘Me! Moscow!’

  ‘As soon as you can,’ said Fenby. ‘I’ll get State to arrange the visa as quickly as possible.’

  The conference, which continued after the departure of Kestler and Charlie, broke up in near disarray and with Natalia as exposed as ever although with more chance to influence decisions for which she was ultimately accountable. The Interior Minister insisted Natalia chair the immediately convened and following meeting to prevent the Pizhma haul getting out of the country, which was technically her responsibility as the department head, although Natalia thought there was an element of inferred criticism of Aleksai and suspected he thought so too. The impression increased, spreading, she believed, to the military commanders, when the meeting ended with the belated investigation following virtually every suggestion put forward by Charlie and the American. That second session was expanded, again on Radomir Badim’s orders by internal division commanders from the Federal Security Service, the new intelligence service formed from the old KGB, and the Federal Militia to provide as much additional manpower as possible to secure borders into Europe and the West. A further ministerial edict was that every planning decision be channelled to the minister through Natalia, which kept her the inevitable focus for mistakes as much as for successes. And realistically she recognized the risks of mistakes were far greater than the benefit of successes.

  Ever conscious of that, Natalia questioned and examined every proposal, relegating to secondary importance the chauvinism of the military and the other male division chiefs and Popov’s barely concealed impatience at her operational experience. Natalia rigidly limited her questioning to the practicalities of stopping the stolen nuclear material reaching the West, but was not reluctant to challenge Popov.

  She was as annoyed with him as he appeared to be with her. She’d been very vulnerable at the beginning of the minister’s inquest and Aleksai had done nothing to help: indeed, he had led the denunciation of Western involvement with which she would have been culpably linked if it had been judged ill-concieved, and she’d felt satisfaction as well as embarrassment for her lover when the attack had blown up in his face.

  It was a resentment Natalia intended privately to let him know beyond what he’d doubtless already assumed, but she acknowledged the opportunity wasn’t going to be easy that night. As pointedly as Natalia felt able when she left to report to the minister, she demanded Popov contact her with the street-level, city-by-city details of the regional and outer border closures upon which they had decided.

  She returned uneasily to Leninskaya, hoping Popov would assume the contact insistence a relayed demand from Radomir Badim that had to be complied with. Which it virtually turned out to be anyway from the point-by-point interrogation to which she was subjected by the minister, as well as by Viskov and Fomin, before they agreed every proposal. Because of the uncertainty, Natalia left Sasha in the care of the crèche staff.

  It clearly was Popov’s assumption from the formality with which he telephoned, an hour after she arrived back at the apartment.

  He recited the demanded details in a flat, expressionless tone, scarcely making any allowances for her to take notes. She didn’t ask him to slow or repeat anything. ‘Is there anything additional you want?’ he concluded.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘I shall stay at the ministry tonight.’

  Objectively Natalia accepted it was right he should remain in the ministry building: the need was greater now than when he was preparing for the Kirov interception. ‘Call me immediately there is any development’

  ‘Of course. Anything else?’

  ‘I would have liked more support this afternoon.’ If she couldn’t tell him to his face she’d tell him this way.

  ‘So would I!’

  ‘You were too anxious to criticize!’

  ‘And you to approve!’

  ‘I wasn’t approving! Just showing practical common sense to practical common sense suggestions!’

  ‘Which no one was left in any doubt about that I should have had and already initiated!’

  ‘You’re assuming a criticism nobody made!’

  ‘Your Englishman made it.’

  ‘He’s not my Englishman! And you asked him what he would do in the circumstances, didn’t you!’

  ‘I was made to look a fool!’

  By yourself, nobody else, thought Natalia. Aloud she said, ‘Blaming Western involvement, which you set out to do, could have cost me the directorship!’

  ‘That’s an exaggeration.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I don’t have to tell you what that would mean … not just to me. To Sasha, too.’

  ‘And I don’t have to tell you how much I want properly to look after you. And Sasha.’

  Natalia hadn’t expected him to turn the conversation like that and for several moments could not think of a response. She recognized it as the olive branch to end their argument but she didn’t want so quickly to take it. He hadn’t done enough to help her. So it was right he should know how deeply she was annoyed: too deeply to be mollified in a five-minute telephone conversation. Reverting to the formality with which he’d begun, Natalia said, ‘Call me, if there is anything.’

  Rebuffed, Popov said, ‘I will,’ and replaced the telephone without any farewell.

  Natalia remained by the receiver, gazing at it. She hadn’t said what she’d wanted to say and knew what she had said hadn’t been right. She felt confused and angry, at herself and at Aleksai and peremptory ministers and presidential aides and at whatever they were involved in, about which she felt most confused of all. She grabbed the receiver when it sounded, anxious to hear Aleksai apologize.

  ‘We should talk,’ suggested Charlie.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Natalia. ‘We should.’

  ‘What’s the seriousness of the leak?’ demanded Patrick Pacey.

  ‘We need far more information before any proper assessment can be made,’ said Dean. ‘There’s a scientific team being assembled at Aldermaston. We’re feeding them the raw information as it comes in. Washington is cooperating fully: the President telephoned Downing Street an hour ago. I’ve had three separate telephone conversations with Fenby.’

  ‘Is it a Chernobyl situation?’ persisted Pacey.

  ‘We don’t know enough to answer that.’

  ‘The fallout, from Chernobyl, reached England!’ Simpson pointed out.

  ‘This can’t possibly be as big,’ guessed Dean.

  ‘Chernobyl was a reactor,’ re
minded Pacey, unnecessarily. ‘This is weapons-graded. Surely that will be more powerful?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ repeated the exasperated Dean.

  ‘Why break open the canisters deliberately?’ said Johnson.

  ‘It’s beyond belief!’ said Pacey.

  ‘It all is,’ agreed Dean.

  ‘What are the Russians doing about public warnings?’ asked Johnson.

  ‘There’s still the insistence on a news blackout.’

  ‘They’ve never given a damn about endangering their civilian population with their nuclear programme,’ reminded Pacey.

  ‘We could have a catastrophe,’ said the deputy Director, point-lessly.

  ‘I’m not sure what we have got,’ said Dean. There was one thing he was sure about, though.

  chapter 21

  The doorstep greeting wasn’t as awkward as the first time but Charlie thought it was close. He halted again at the inner door, for Natalia to precede him to where he expected Sasha to be.

  ‘She’s being looked after. In case something urgent comes up,’ explained Natalia, without being asked.

  There was a moment of uncertainty. ‘I’m glad you agreed. It’s right.’

  ‘I know.’ She hoped he believed her about Sasha and didn’t think she’d done something ridiculous like hiding the child away. Or be offended by what she had half decided to suggest.

  ‘Last time didn’t work out very well, did it?’ She’d changed again, into a one-piece trousered outfit not unlike that which Popov and the spetznaz officers had worn, although Natalia’s was made of a silky blue material. He wasn’t sure if she’d tried with make-up but if she had she’d failed: her eyes were hollowed and dark ringed and her face was pinched.

  ‘That’s hardly surprising, in the circumstances.’ She waved him to a chair. He didn’t choose the one by the door this time. ‘I’ve got some Scotch. It isn’t Islay.’

  He smiled, briefly. ‘A long memory!’

  ‘About a lot of things. But just memories, Charlie.’

  ‘You already told me,’ he acknowledged, disappointed she’d felt the need to reiterate the rejection. ‘And Scotch would be fine.’

  He studied the room in her absence, caught again by the complete absence of anyone’s occupation but her own, although she’d stressed Popov didn’t live with her. At once Charlie extended the scrutiny. Sasha did live with her but there wasn’t any trace of the child, either. Natalia had always been obsessively neat, chiding him for his untidiness. Memories, like Natalia had reminded; out-of-place memories. She carried wine back for herself. When she handed Charlie his glass she said, ‘The toast used to be “Death to the enemy.”’

  ‘It still is. They’re just more difficult to find these days.’

  Natalia settled herself on the couch where she’d sat with Sasha, leaning back as if she needed the support of the cushions. The whisky was smooth enough and Charlie began to relax, too. His initial doorway impression had been wrong. Tonight things were much easier. So far, at least.

  ‘Well?’ Now that he was here – now that she had reversed all the resolutions – Natalia felt too tired to force things as they probably should have been forced. She wasn’t sure any more that she would go through with it. She’d let him lead, maybe make up her mind as things went along.

  ‘I want to make a lot of things clear,’ began Charlie. ‘I promise you I won’t do anything to cause you any embarrassment. Or difficulty. You. Or Sasha.’ Charlie paused, momentarily unable to say what he felt he had to. ‘She’ll be Popov’s daughter, if that’s what you want …’

  Natalia wasn’t sure – not committed-for-the-rest-of-her-life sure – that’s what she did want. Not that Charlie’s reappearance affected any uncertainty. She was sure that was over. She knew she needed Charlie professionally and it was easy sitting here with him now and it would even have been pleasant imagining times like it in future. But what there had once been with Charlie could never be again. ‘You really mean that? … that you’d let Sasha think of someone else as her father?’

  Charlie supposed that’s what he did mean but it didn’t sound right put as direct as that. ‘Popov’s more to her than I am. Isn’t that best for her?’ He wasn’t accustomed to selfless decision and didn’t like this one.

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘And let’s get something else clear. I didn’t set out to force a confrontation between him and me this afternoon. There was nothing personal.’ Charlie meant it, although it was the truth according to Charlie’s rules. Popov had been shown up to be all the things Charlie had mentally labelled him and Charlie had felt then and felt now a satisfaction at having done it in front of Natalia.

  Natalia pushed the fatigue away, making her decision, moving aside the wine that wasn’t helping the tiredness. ‘I know. It was unnecessary: achieved nothing. I don’t know why he did, not like that.’

  ‘It could have been personally difficult for you.’ He never expected the reaction the remark achieved.

  Natalia came abruptly forward, elbows on her knees. ‘I took a huge chance with you once, Charlie. More than once. Risked everything …’

  ‘ … I’ve said …’

  ‘… I’m not opening old wounds,’ overrode Natalia, refusing his interruption in her anxiety to get out what she wanted to say. ‘You must be totally honest with me!’

  ‘I will be,’ promised Charlie, hoping she believed him.

  She hesitated, knowing she couldn’t extract any assurance beyond that. ‘What are you here for? Here in Moscow?’

  Charlie looked blankly at her. ‘You know what I’m doing here!’

  ‘Do I?’

  Charlie understood. ‘It’s all changed, Natalia. Like it’s changed here. We’re becoming like an FBI now. I’m here because of nuclear smuggling. That’s all. I promise.’

  She remained silent for several minutes, seeking the courage to say the words. ‘I’m going to take another chance. The risk isn’t as great, not like before. I know I need help, your help, Charlie, if I’m to stay where I am. Which I have to do, for Sasha …’ It wasn’t coming out as she wanted. ‘You saw what it was like this afternoon. The resentment. And not just Aleksai. All of them. But they won’t be held responsible for failure …’

  ‘Stop it …’ Charlie halted just short of calling her darling. ‘Stop it, Natalia. You don’t need to explain. You know you’ll have everything … anything … you want.’ It was instinctive for Charlie to think that to fulfil that undertaking he’d have to get everything from Natalia in return but he didn’t feel embarrassed about it. Professionally, it put him in a spectacular position.

  ‘I’m trusting you again.’

  ‘I know that.’ He caught the sad resignation in her voice.

  ‘Every time I’ve done it before you’ve let me down.’

  ‘I won’t this time.’

  ‘You’ve got to mean that, Charlie.’

  ‘All I can tell you is that I do mean it and all I can do is ask you to believe me.’

  ‘It isn’t that simple …’ Natalia began.

  ‘Yes it is,’ anticipated Charlie. ‘Aleksai will never know. No one will ever know.’

  ‘Now it’s me being utterly selfish, thinking only of myself. Myself and Sasha.’

  ‘It’s your turn.’ Where the hell was he now? Professionally on the inside track, ahead of everyone. But personally it would need Machiavelli with a slide rule and compasses to work it out. He was going to do all he could to keep in power the mother of his child whom he’d just agreed to surrender to her new lover who couldn’t be allowed to find out what was going on. It was almost too much for a soap opera novel. ‘Have you really thought it through?’

  ‘No,’ Natalia admitted, honestly. ‘Neither have you.’

  ‘I don’t have to.’

  ‘I know it won’t be easy!’ she accepted, abruptly belligerent. ‘Give me just one other choice!’

  If he’d been able, Charlie wouldn’t have told her. He wasn’t offended by the obvious i
nference that if there had been another choice she would have taken it. ‘How strong is the resentment?’

  ‘Total, in most cases. Strong in others.’

  ‘So we could be excluded if our usefulness dries up?’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Natalia. ‘You always knew that, surely?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be wise for you to protest.’

  ‘And I won’t, unless I’m sure of the grounds for doing so.’

  Had he not known and now trusted Natalia so completely, Charlie would have suspected this extraordinary episode to be a brilliant con trick for the Russians to close them out but at the same time learn everything being fed in from the West. ‘Don’t, even if you think you are sure.’

  Natalia hadn’t thought through the complications of what she was asking. She shook her head in another abrupt mood change, this time despair. ‘It won’t work, will it? If you and Kestler are kept out, how can I introduce something I’ve no way of knowing!’

  She was too tired to think properly: if she hadn’t been, perhaps she wouldn’t have sought his help in the first place. ‘We’ll make the approach in such a way they’ll have to meet with us. It won’t be down to Popov alone now, will it?’

  ‘Probably not,’ said Natalia, uncertainly. She brightened. ‘I’m the official link between the operational group and the ministry and presidential secretariat.’

  A mixed blessing for her, incredible for him! As the idea came to him, Charlie said, ‘But you must openly campaign for our inclusion, when I tell you.’

  Natalia’s exhausted reasoning was ebbing and flowing, each and every thought difficult to hold. There was an overwhelming relief, at there being someone upon whom she could rely. Trust and rely. The contradiction snatched at her. How could she feel relief and trust and reliance for someone who had so consistently let her down? She just did. Natalia didn’t want to think or consider beyond that simple decision. ‘How?’

  ‘All you have to do is judge the moment. Which you will always be able to do, from what I tell you in advance. And from knowing who’s going to be at your meetings. Always wait until Badim or Fomin or someone in higher authority is involved. At those sessions press as hard as you can for our inclusion. Your judgment, to those in authority, will be proven right, every time, because you’ll know in advance everything we’ve got. And the opposition and resentment of those arguing against you will be proven wrong, every time. When there aren’t people in higher authority, don’t push. Wait.’