by Matthew Dunn
Gregor was silent.
Sign asked, “Is Susan still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you at risk? I think I know the answer but I want to hear details from you.”
Natalia looked around the lake. “It is beautiful here.” She returned her attention to Sign. “At the back of the file is a trigger.”
“A trigger?”
“A Russian spy file is either of mere historical interest or it’s a weapon. The Archer file is a weapon. The trigger was a piece of paper, dated four days’ ago. It’s very specific. Tomorrow Jayne Archer will be sent a photo of her sister. Alongside the photo will be an instruction. The instruction is: tell us who in the SVR is betraying the names of our officers in Europe and the United States. That person’s me. The instruction also says that if she doesn’t comply her sister will suffer an agonising death. The SVR knows Jayne is now head of the MI6 Russia Department. They’ve therefore made their killer blow. Under SVR instruction, her fake mother recently told Jayne about the existence of her twin sister. Jayne will have to decide whether she sacrifices her sister’s life or my life. I know she will betray me.”
Sign nodded. “She will.”
“And there’s nothing you can do about it. We’ve been outplayed by an ingenious Russian long game. It was all about having leverage at some point. That point is now. Jayne’s stars and my stars have now aligned. Jayne’s promotion and my treachery made the trigger possible.” She shook her head. “You suspected all of this might happen.”
“It was one of seven possibilities. But, I confess this was the one that kept haunting me.”
“What can be done? Can we warn Jayne? Stop her from giving the Russians my name?”
“It’s too late. Your name is in Jayne’s head. Even if she’s arrested in Britain, she’ll find a way to speak to the Russians. Plus, she can’t be arrested yet because she hasn’t done anything. As we speak, Jayne has no idea about her background. All we can do is protect you.” Sign nodded at Gregor.
Gregor started rowing to shore.
Sign said to Natalia, “This is what will happen – you and I will have zero contact with Jayne Archer; tomorrow we’ll get you out of Russia.”
“Tomorrow?!”
“Tomorrow evening. I have to make preparations. Trusted allies of mine will be involved. Even tomorrow will be a tight turnaround but I’m confident it can be achieved. When we reach Britain you will be placed into temporary protective custody. Your identity will be changed. You will then be given a place to live. You will lead an independent life.”
“Da. A new life.” A tear rolled down her cheek. To herself and quietly she repeated, “A new life.”
When they reached land they walked to the house. Gregor whistled three times. Knutsen, Yuri, and Lenin got out of their hiding places and went to the farm. Yuri had a rifle resting on his shoulder. Knutsen was holding his pistol in both hands.
When everyone was inside, Gregor said to Natalia, “Get some rest. You will need it. The rest of us have some jobs to do.”
Natalia was grateful. She was mentally and physically exhausted. “I will be safe?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mind helping out.”
“I know. But, you’ve done your shift today. Like all good sailors, you work, rest, eat, sleep, and work. Now is the rest part of the day. I’ve set the boiler’s thermostat to permanent. There will be plenty of hot water if you want a bath. But, I must warn you – all we have in the bathroom is an anti-dandruff shampoo and a bar of soap. We weren’t expecting female company.”
Natalia yawned. “I’m so tired.”
“Stress will do that to you.” Gregor put his arm on her shoulder and guided her to the stairs. “Make sure you shut your bedroom door. Lenin is a bastard. Given half a chance he’ll sleep on our beds. When that happens the sheets smell like something out of the bowels of Hell.”
When she was gone, Gregor asked Sign, “Is her exfiltration out of Russia going to be cold?”
“Yes.”
Gregor frowned. “She’s not equipped for that. All she has is city work clothes.”
“You and I had less when we escaped that gang in Kurdistan. And we did so during winter.”
“Less? We were naked.” Gregor was deep in thought. “We must do what we can to clothe her. To a man, a cold sailor who’s on watch will tell you that there is no gift on Earth more precious than being given a warm jumper. Yuri – I have a job for you.”
Yuri stood before his father. “It’s going to be a shit job, isn’t it?”
“It’s a job, so wind your neck in. I need you to buy Natalia some clothes. Windproof jacket, thermal vest, jumper, lined waterproof trousers, pair of hiking boots, thick socks, gloves, and a woollen hat. The outdoor shop in Yaroslavl will sell what we need.”
“What’s her shoe size?”
Gregor looked at Sign.
Sign said, “I’ve no idea. Do you have a measuring instrument?”
Gregor rummaged in one of the kitchen drawers and handed Sign a tape measure.
Sign gave it to Yuri. “The ground outside is wet. Look at our footprints from our route to the lake. Discount the big prints. Measure the length of Natalia’s prints.”
Ten minutes’ later Yuri was back in the house. “Twenty two centimetres.”
Gregor asked, “What’s that in shoe size?”
No one knew.
Gregor threw up his arms. “You’ll just have to tell the shop assistant that her current shoes are twenty two centimetres long, that they are heeled work shoes, and you require boots that are a centimetre longer to accommodate thick socks. What’s her clothing size?”
Yuri frowned. “Size?”
“You know – three, four, five, twelve, sixteen, all that stuff.”
“No man knows what any of that means.”
Gregor leaned against the workbench. “True.”
“Shouldn’t we just go upstairs and ask her what her measurements are?”
“She’s probably sleeping. And even if she’s not, the point of us solving this riddle is to supply her with a highly considerate and surprising gesture.” Gregor grabbed his phone and searched women’s clothes sizes on the Internet. When the results came up he exclaimed, “For the love of God, this is more complicated than trying to navigate a submarine through a minefield.” He put the phone down. “It appears women come in all shapes and sizes, and none of the sizes are an exact science. Right – how tall is she?”
Yuri put his hand to his throat. “About up to here.”
“That’ll do. Tell that to the shop assistant. What about,” Gregor waved his hands around his waist and chest, “women’s body things? Do we need to factor that in?”
Sign was trying not to laugh. “No we don’t. Buy her elasticated trousers, stretch thermals, and a baggy jumper. She won’t look like she’s on the front cover of Hiking Weekly, or whatever, but at least she’ll be warm. Yuri – also, get herself something nice in Yaroslavl. If you’re unsure, speak to a woman in one of the shops. Ignore them if they suggest perfume or any bathroom toiletries. Listen to them if they suggest anything more neutral but personal. If pushed, tell them that you’re going out on a first date and just want to give your girlfriend something nice. Got it?”
Yuri nodded. “Got it.” He took cash out of the safe and left.
Gregor said to Knutsen, “You and Lenin need to stay here and keep guard over her.”
Knutsen angled his head, “Aye aye captain.”
Gregor smiled. “The very best of my men were insolent.” He patted Knutsen on the shoulder. “It was like herding cats. But you wouldn’t want anyone else by your side if the shit hit the fan. Natalia’s in the good hands.”
The comment took the wind out of Knutsen’s sails. Without a drop of sarcasm, he replied, “I’ll protect her.”
Gregor held his gaze for a moment, his eyes twinkling. He said, “Excellent. To your post.” He turned to Sign. “Pick a rifle from the rack. We must now kill
our dinner.”
Sign and Gregor moved through the wood, their rifle butts firm in their armpits.
Sign whispered, “What are we hunting for? Anything that moves?”
Gregor replied, “I’ll show you.” He moved on.
Sign followed him.
Close to the lake’s shore, Gregor crouched while still hidden amid the trees. He raised his fist, thereby silently indicating to Sign to also stop. He was motionless, on one knee, watching. He was barely audible when he said, “They carry a disease that humans are immune to but pigs can die from. We’re hunting boar. We only need one. I have to cull them once a year, to keep numbers manageable and sustainable. They forage at this time of the day and at night. If we see one, I’ll make a clean head shot. If there are other boars in the vicinity, fire shots over their head to scare them off. They’re nasty fellows when they’re angry.”
“Why are we so close to the lake? Shouldn’t we be deeper in the forest?”
Gregor smiled. “The boars like paddling in the shallow water. It’s their playtime.” His smile vanished. “This isn’t sport. For every boar I cull I spend days constructing shelters and putting down food so they can reproduce and survive the winter. Like everything here, we coexist and help each other.”
Three hours’ later, Natalia came downstairs. She’d had a shallow sleep and a bath. Yuri was back. His face lit up when he saw her. He said, “I’ve bought you some things.” He patted shopping bags that were on the table. “Things that will keep you warm. Apparently your route out of Russia might be a cold one. I’ve also bought you this.” He handed her a book of poetry by Alexander Pushkin. “I struggle to read. Maybe you could read me a poem after dinner. Try on the clothes. I hope they fit.”
Natalia looked at the bags. “You bought me these?”
“Yes. It was a difficult job.” Yuri was now standing in the kitchen, chopping vegetables.
Natalia went to her room and changed into her new outdoors clothes and boots. Everything fitted perfectly. She returned to the kitchen, wearing her new attire. “Thank you, Yuri.”
Yuri grinned. “You look perfect. Hey – have you got a boyfriend?”
Natalia wagged her finger. “Steady on tiger. Boyfriends are the last thing on my mind right now.” She smiled. “But I appreciate you asking. Where is everyone else?”
“Just outside the house.” Yuri wiped his brow as he dashed between pans of boiling water. “Here. Take this to my Dad.” He handed her a basket containing a paint brush, large jar of homemade garlic marmalade, fresh herbs, bag of crushed ice, four tumblers, and a bottle of vodka.
Natalia wandered outside. The sun was going down, though the stunning surroundings were still visible. The torches on the lake-facing balcony had been lit. Others were dotted around the grounds. Sign and Gregor were standing next to a pit of coals. Above the pit was a boar that was skewered on a rotisserie. Gregor was slowing turning the swine. Knutsen was in the paddock, doing training with Lenin. He was throwing the boar’s entrails high into the sky while screaming a variety of obscenities, including, “Why the fuck do I have to do this revolting job?!” Lenin was leaping, catching the guts and devouring them. The air was cold, but the heat from the torches and the fire negated any discomfort. Natalia thought she was in a dream. This place was magical. She handed the basket to Gregor.
“Did you sleep, my dear?” He asked.
“A bit.”
“Then you are ready to fight another day.” He opened the jar, poured the sauce over the rotating boar, used the brush to wipe the marinade around the skinned carcass, threw the herbs onto the coals to infuse the smoke, cracked open the vodka, placed handfuls of ice into the tumblers, and poured everyone a drink. He shouted, “Mr. Tank Engine! Drink time!”
Knutsen was now running around the paddock with the boar hide on his head and back. Lenin was chasing him. The wolf bowled him over, ripped off the hide, then looked confused. “It’s okay, motherfucker,” said Knutsen gently as he ruffled his head. “Apparently this is something to do with learning about how to spot a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Except you’re the wolf and all I had was a bloody enormous pig skin to teach you the lesson.” He staggered to his feet. “One thing’s for sure – if you can take me down you can take down a buffalo. Come on. Let’s join the others.” His body was throbbing as he limped to the roasting boar.
Sign asked, “Any broken bones?”
Knutsen grabbed his drink from Gregor. “Not fucking yet.” He looked at Natalia. “Excuse my language.”
“I don’t mind.” Natalia asked Sign, “Where are you taking me tomorrow?”
Sign assisted Gregor with the basting of their meal. “St. Petersburg. As you know, it’s at least an eight hour drive. Yuri will take us there. He will be working through most of the night to ensure his vehicle can make the trip. The slightest vehicle impediment must be eradicated. We will be carrying spare canisters of fuel, food, bottles of water, and empty bottles to urinate in. We will not be stopping anywhere on route.”
Gregor stepped away from his chef duties and addressed Natalia. “You’re new clothes look good. Ben has brought me in to his confidence and told me how he’s going to get you out of Russia. From St. Petersburg, you, Ben, and Thomas will sail on a ship that’s bound for Liverpool. Ben knows the skipper. The journey will take seven days. Pack accordingly. Leave everything else here. We will burn what you don’t need.” He raised his glass and shouted, “Onwards, my friends!”
“Onwards,” they all replied in unison before sipping their drinks.
Sign asked Knutsen to help Gregor with the boar. To Natalia he said, “Let’s take our drinks onto the balcony.” When the two of them sere sat there, looking at the lake, the roasting swine, and the torches, he said, “You are no longer a member of the SVR. You are no longer a spy for MI6. Soon your name will no longer be Natalia Asina. And once you’re safely in Britain you will no longer be Russian. You’ll be Ukrainian, though will have a British passport. In consultation with you, I will arrange all matters in relation to your living arrangements and your job.”
The enormity of the changes hit Natalia. “Maybe I could be a teacher?”
“No. You would be listed on the school’s staff list. Even though your name will be different, you must be invisible. You have seven days on our boat trip to think about suitable jobs. Don’t reach for the stars. Take something that pays the bills and leaves enough left over to treat yourself now and again. Don’t go on holiday outside of Britain. Under no circumstances use social media. Don’t do Internet shopping, use courier services, and browse Internet websites containing political news. Ideally, don’t use the Internet at all. Be constantly suspicious of people until you really get to know them. You will be financially secure. I will help you get a job. And you will receive a pension when you’re sixty. It will come out of a government slush fund that has no links to the government. You are free to date and marry, but once again be very cautious as to whether to trust a lover. You will be able to contact me and Tom while we’re still alive. It might be prudent to run a potential lover’s name by us before you engage in a relationship. We’ll do background checks and let you know if he’s safe. Never, ever, speak to anyone about Russia. You’ve never been here and know nothing about the country beyond what you’ve seen on the news. You came to Britain after your parents died. You have no other family.” He gave her more details about her new identity before concluding, “For the rest of your life, you will be off the radar.”
Her voice was distant when she stated, “I must be held captive in Britain.”
With kindness in his voice, Sign replied, “Don’t look at it that way. It takes at least four lifetimes to experience ten percent of what Britain has within its shores. You will not be bored. On the contrary, it will be an adventure.”
She nodded. “Will I see you and Tom again?”
“Only if there’s an emergency.”
“What will you do if Jayne Archer betrays me? And what about her fake English paren
ts?”
“Her father’s dead. Her mother and Jayne are close. I will deal with both of them.”
“How?”
“By delivering them the truth.” Sign didn’t elaborate. He pointed at the others. “I’m retired from MI6 but still hold powerful sway within the highest circles in government. Tom is a former cop. Gregor is a former naval officer and assassin. You are now a former SVR officer. But, look at what you see. All of us are happy and carving a new life. Do not be frightened of the unknown. It can very often bring sublime joy.”
“If you’re retired from MI6, who’s paying you to help me?”
“The person who’s about to betray you.”
“Then, how will you get your money?”
“I won’t.” Sign sipped his drink. “Money is considerably less important than a human life. Let’s go and join the others. The meat smells delicious. It won’t be fully cooked for an hour or so. But we can have another drink while we wait. I might even persuade Gregor to play his balalaika and give us a sing-song.”
Natalia grabbed his arm. Her grip was tight. “If you’d already considered the possibility that Susan was going to be used as leverage against Jayne in order to flush me out, why did you send me to Moscow?”
Sign stared at the lake. “It was only a possibility. I needed to know the truth.” He looked at her. “If I hadn’t gotten to the truth, this time tomorrow you’d be dead. And we can’t have that happening, can we?”
She released her grip. With a slight smile on her face and a lighter tone of voice, she said, “I’m actually a pretty good singer. Maybe Gregor and I could do a duet.”
Archer served her mother shepherd’s pie in her home in Putney. Elizabeth was now with her fulltime. The nurse had visited, supplied medicine and medical kit, made checks of the house, and departed after saying that everything in the property was perfect. Archer had made a real effort to make the house welcoming. Candles were lit; classical music was softly playing in the lounge; a bouquet of roses was in a vase adjacent to her mother’s bed; the curtains were parted, revealing on one side of the house a view of the adjacent Thames and the old fashioned embankment lamps straddling the mighty river; a bottle of Elizabeth’s favourite Rioja was in the centre of the dining table. It was evening. The sun had gone down. Daytime tourists had been replaced by evening revellers. The double glazing in the house meant they could barely hear them as they walked along the promenade. But, it was still good to see life in action.