by Duncan James
“I suppose it is too much to hope that you have brought me here tell me news about my husband?” she said, immediately going on to the offensive.
“I have brought you here, Sasha, as we are enquiring into the murder of the woman you were supposed to be looking after.”
“Her death is appalling news,” she responded, “and yet another example of the total ineptitude of the organisation you are supposed to be running.”
“Please be calm,” appealed Ivanovic.
“Be calm,” she repeated. “Be calm! How can you expect me to be calm? You have no idea where my husband went when he left London after you sent him there, you have no idea where he is now, or even whether he is dead or alive. And now, a matter of days after she was instructed by you to return to her fatherland after years of exemplary service abroad, you have murdered another of your top agents. I suppose that it what happened to my husband. I suppose you murdered him as well.”
She was quite enjoying this.
“We had nothing to do with the murder of Barbara Wilkinson, and neither do we know yet what has happened to your husband,” insisted the Director. “You have been brought here in case you can help our inquiries into this murder, which happened virtually on your own doorstep.”
“I had no idea you were a common-or-garden policeman,” countered Sasha. “I had always believed that, useless though you appear to be, you were in charge of an important part of our espionage organisation. Now you tell me you are trying to act as a detective, investigating a murder which you should have prevented in the first place.”
Ivanovic sighed. Further argument would plainly be a waste of time and breath.
“You have already told our colleagues here that you know nothing about the death of your friend Barbara, and that you heard and saw nothing suspicious. So let us move on.”
He ruffled through the papers on his desk.
“It will not surprise you to learn,” he continued, “that Barbara’s flat had been fitted with listening devices. From our monitoring of these, it is obvious that she has confided in you, when she had refused to confide in us.”
“What, for instance?”
“For instance, she told you that your husband had gone to Switzerland rather than returning here to Moscow. For instance, she told you that Professor Jack Barclay was still alive, and that he was in Geneva with a new identity as Dr Roger Lloyd. Is this true?”
“Quite true, as you know. You have been spying on her, and have the tapes.”
“Why do you think she chose to tell you, a complete stranger, and not us, her employer for many years?”
“Probably because, after all those years, she knew as I know how utterly useless you all are.”
Ivanovic wished he had never asked.
“We were never convinced,” he said, changing the subject, “that your husband had succeeded in his mission to kill Barclay, and now we know for sure that he had failed.”
“You will also know that he was a dedicated servant of the State, and that in spite of your own failings, he chose to follow the man in order to finish the task you had set him.”
Ivanovic was not sure he was on top of this interview.
“As it happens,” he said, “we are no longer interested in the removal of Barclay. Because of the efforts of others in England, he has successfully been removed from the threatening research he was involved in, and is therefore no longer a danger to us. However, I gather that you intend travelling to Geneva in an effort to trace Barclay and finish off what your husband so conspicuously failed to achieve. Is that true?”
“You have the tapes,” repeated Sasha. “What I also hope to do more than anything is to trace my husband, which you have so far completely failed to do. I shall be leaving soon, with that as my main objective.”
“We shall also be renewing our efforts to trace your husband, in the light of the new information we have at our disposal. This has already been passed to our agents in Bern, for their attention.”
“A lot of use that will be!”
“Whatever you do, Mrs Makienko is up to you, but do not expect any help or support from us. We shall keep a watch on your movements, as you would expect, and as I have said, will continue our own enquiries.”
“If you watch my movements as well as you watched those of Dmitri, you will have no idea of where I am or what I am doing,” she countered fiercely, and stood to leave.
Director Egor Ivanovic turned to his secretary, as she stormed out of his office.
“We should have employed her and not her husband,” he said ruefully.
***
Nick Marsden was not in the most relaxed of moods when he got back into the office.
“How’s Russia?” asked Peter chirpily.
“As bloody as ever! At least I’ve got the boy back home, so he is going to be all right.”
“Quite a trauma for him, though.”
“He’s young enough to get over it. I’m not so sure I shall, though. I think I’m getting a bit old for this sort of work.”
“If you don’t have a sense of humour, you should never have joined,” said Peter.
“When I was posted here, I thought I was in for a quieter life behind a desk, planning things, and that unarmed combat and being parachuted in to icy wastes up mountains, and stuff like that, was all behind me,”
“You need a break,” said Peter.
“I think you’re right,” Nick agreed. “Perhaps I’ll have a word with Bill when he gets in. He’s helping out at home getting Donald organised. Anything much been happening since I’ve been away?”
“No. All our Ops seem to be running smoothly, apart from yours! I’ve a funny feeling that Bill is on to something we don’t know about. If you ask me, he has spent far more time than he need closeted in the Ops Room. He seems to have been busy enough, but don’t ask me what he’s been doing. We’ve alerted Switzerland to be on the look-out for Sasha Makienko, by the way, and the Swiss police are going to warn Lloyd as well.”
“That’s good. Have we heard from Lloyd lately?”
“Not feeling well was the last we heard, but the Swiss didn’t comment on him when I rang.”
“I wonder what the Makienko woman plans to do if she ever finds Lloyd. Not finish him off, I hope.”
“She probably thinks he might know what happened to husband Dmitri.”
“Which he does, of course. If he tells her anything, she’ll have a hell of a lot of digging to do after all this time. It never stops snowing over there.”
“Perhaps he should be told not to say anything. Maybe we should get Bill to give him a ring. He knows the man better than anyone. It’s a pity Dusty can’t get over there. He and Lloyd were quite close in the end, so you said.”
“I think I’ll take a day off and visit the bloke, since you mention him. It’ll do me good. It’s quite remarkable how he’s survived everything, you know. Nearly died from the cold, nearly got killed by Makienko, and then nearly died of his injuries on the aircraft getting him home.”
“Tough bugger, obviously.”
“And highly motivated. But if it wasn’t for the little Royal Navy Petty Officer medical lady I had in my team, he would probably not have made it.”
“You took care of Makienko first,” Peter reminded him.
“It was lucky we arrived when we did,” said Nick. “Otherwise it would have been a different story.”
“I gather he’s lucky he didn’t need an amputation.”
“Very lucky. But Dusty has been working pretty hard to get fit again, so it means that he’ll only be on the three week rehabilitation course at Headley, while they get him well enough to return to work. The guys there will put the finishing touches to his recovery. I’ve heard a lot about the place, so it will be good to see at first-hand what they do. And I quite like the Surrey countryside, too. Some good pubs as well.”
“It would be good if I could come with you. I’d like to meet this guy.”
“Speak to Bill. I’m
sure he’ll agree if things are reasonably quiet. Apart from anything else, we need to be sure that Dusty wants to come back here, and what training he might need.”
“And check out the pubs!”
Bill Clayton spoke to Lloyd, who seemed glad to make contact again. But it was not a happy call, so Bill said.
“He’s agreed to say nothing about Makienko if his wife should turn up, but she’ll need to be quick. He’s planning to return to England in a week or so. He needs to catch up with some old colleagues he said, but he’s plainly not at all well. He’s been enjoying life at CERN, but they’ve shut down the Hadron Collider for maintenance for a few months, so it’s only analytical work to be done, going over the material they’ve already collected. I think he’s finding that a bit boring.”
“What’s the latest risk assessment so far as he’s concerned?”
“I don’t think there is one. He’s far removed from the work he was doing at Cullum, so I think he no longer poses a threat to anyone, and neither will he be head-hunted to the extent he was. Others have now taken over his role. But I don’t propose to ask Robin Algar.”
“It’s odd he hasn’t been on lately asking about Barbara and our spy hunt,” commented Nick. “I wonder why?”
“I think he already knows,” said Bill mysteriously.
“Who can have told him, then? He certainly hasn’t asked us what’s going on.”
Bill shrugged, and went back to the Ops Room.
“The plot thickens,” commented Peter. “I wonder what he’s up to.”
Nick shrugged, and went back to his office.
Not long after that, the policeman in charge of things down at Blackbushe Airport got on the phone. He spoke to Peter.
“We’ve spent quite a time quizzing the security people who were supposed to be on duty the night your people left the country illegally,” he announced.
“And?”
“And what they say is very odd indeed.”
“What then?”
“They claim that they were paid and paid handsomely, to keep out of the way for a couple of hours,” said the Superintendent.
“Bribed, you mean.”
“Quite. Two and a half grand each, to be precise. In cash.”
“Not bad! Who paid them?”
“Well, this is the odd part. They say it was the Prime Minister. At least, one says that’s who he thought it was, while the other bloke says it was Downing Street, and not the PM himself. Either way, it’s very odd, and they can’t be shaken from their story, whether questioned together or on their own.”
“They must have made it up,” claimed Peter.
“Somehow, I don’t think so,” said the policeman. “They were paid a grand up front, in cash, and the other one-and-a-half next day. Again, in cash. Foreign sounding bloke in a smart car delivered it, so they say, but of course they didn’t get the number, did they! We’ve also managed to recover most of the money.”
“Are the notes traceable, do you think?”
“We’re checking.”
“Where are they now, these two?”
“Under arrest, for further questioning. All sorts of charges are being suggested, from aiding and abetting, perverting the course of justice, and upwards.”
“Keep at it then, and keep me informed. I must tell my guvnor straight away.”
For some reason, Bill didn’t seem all that surprised.
***
Sasha Makienko was not at all sure she wanted to go to Geneva, or what she would do when she got there. She was quite sure, however, that she needed to get away from Moscow. She’d had enough of the place lately.
It almost seemed as if things had taken a turn for the better when her new neighbour arrived, and now she was gone as well. Not just her husband, but Barbara as well.
She was sick with worry about Dmitri. If she knew he was dead, she could at least grieve, but nobody could tell her anything. Nobody knew whether he was dead or alive, or where he was or what had happened to him. Only Barbara had known that he had gone to Switzerland, probably to Geneva, and why he had gone.
But would she, Sasha, be able to discover anything new if she went? Probably not. But she would no doubt feel better for having at least tried to find out. The Professor might have some idea, if, indeed, he had survived Dmitri’s attempt to kill him. Barbara thought he had. Her first task, she decided, would be to find him, and that meant finding the science place where he worked. A nuclear research place called CERN; she’d heard of it, but knew nothing about it. She looked it up on the internet, as much as anything to find out where it was exactly.
The next thing she did was to get a guide book and a map of Geneva. She knew there was a good bookshop near the GUM Department Store, and they had everything she needed.
She somehow felt a bit better now she was doing something. While she was in that part of the City, she also checked at a travel agency about flights and fares to Geneva. Quite expensive, but then Dmitri’s pay was still going into the bank, so that would not be a problem.
The interesting and distressing thing was, though, that he had not withdrawn any money from the account for some weeks. She wondered if that could possibly mean that he was dead, after all. The Government had to keep paying him, of course, until they were sure that he was no longer alive, and then she would get half his salary as a pension. But so far, it was all being paid in to their account. There was plenty there for the ticket.
Having got so far, she pressed on, never quite sure what would happen if and when she got to Switzerland. She decided to stay in Geneva itself, at least for the time being, rather than in one of the smaller villages nearer to CERN. And why not? She needed a break. Her life had been in turmoil recently, what with their hasty expulsion from London, then her husband disappearing and now her new flat-mate being murdered. She needed a break, and time to work out what to do next. She was only a housewife, after all, and not really used to all this sort of thing, as her husband was. Or had been. Which was why she was not really sure if she was doing the best thing, or what to do first when she got there.
Fortunately, she spoke a bit of French, so she was able to get about all right. She decided that she rather liked Geneva. Good shops and good restaurants as well, although it was more expensive than she had thought. So she relaxed for a few days, and did a bit of sightseeing, a bit of shopping, and had a trip up the lake on one of the steamers.
Eventually, she decided to find CERN. From the main station in Geneva, at Cornavin, she could catch a number 18 tram, which took her right to the main entrance, where it terminated. Only 3.50 Swiss francs, too.
But when she got there, she did not go in. It was all rather intimidating. There was a huge exhibition Globe on the opposite side of the road, but she was no scientist, so what really went on at CERN was not of great interest to her. The main site was a vast complex of buildings, but she noticed that nearly everyone from the tram went up the steps into the main reception area. The returning tram was equally full of people who came from the main reception area.
So she got back on it, and returned to central Geneva.
What to do next was the real problem.
In Director Ivanovic’s office, she had been full of steely resolve. If Dmitri had failed, she would finish the job for him. She would also find out what had happened to her beloved Dmitri.
But if Dmitri had failed to ‘eliminate’ the Professor that meant she had to, if she was to finish the job on his behalf. And that meant killing the man. Murder. Now, she suddenly wasn’t at all sure. She wasn’t that sort of person. Murder? Thinking about it, she didn’t think she could bring herself to do it, in spite of all her bravado in the Director’s office. After all, the Director himself had said that the Professor was no longer a threat. So perhaps, after all, she wouldn’t have to do what she had set out to do.
But she would like to know where Dmitri was, and what had happened to him. Only the Professor could tell her that, it seemed, so she had to meet him at le
ast. Then she could judge whether he was still a threat, or a nasty piece of work who should be removed, or whatever. That would be the time to decide whether or not she had the courage to finish off what her husband had failed to do. If she had the courage.
Most of all, she wanted to know about Dmitri.
This was not, she decided, the sort of problem that normal, ordinary Muscovite housewives have to face. And, after all, that’s what she was. Wife of a brave husband, who was a bit of a loose cannon perhaps and of independent mind and spirit maybe, but nevertheless she was only his wife. Not in the same profession, or of the same rather wild-cat character, or with the same training or anything. Just a housewife, that’s all.
Yet here she was, in a hotel in Geneva, trying to pluck up the courage to meet a nuclear scientist she knew nothing about, with a view to killing him. Perhaps.
Or perhaps not.
He might be quite a nice man, perhaps with a wife of his own somewhere. And children. But he might also know something about her husband, and what had happened to him. That’s the important bit. Find out about Dmitri.
But could she really just turn up, ask to meet him, and announce herself as the wife of the man who had tried to kill him? What would his reaction be to that? Perhaps he would want to kill her, rather than the other way round.
She really did wonder why she was here, and what she was going to do.
But having got that far, she really had to press on, and find out about Dmitri if she could.
So she would go back to the place, and ring the bell, and ask to speak to a Professor Lloyd.
Tomorrow.
***
Gladys was getting a bit fed up with her boss working from the Ops Room instead of from his own office upstairs. She would have been glad of a quid for every time she had rushed up and down the stairs, from her office next to his proper one, to his temporary desk downstairs.
Giving up smoking had been bad enough, but now she was losing weight because of exercise she was not used to. It looked as if Barbara was never going to come back to her old job, so Gladys was not about to complain. She was enjoying life, if she was honest, and did not relish the thought of returning to her old post in charge of Section 11’s administration.
What was nice, she thought, was the way Bill Clayton had without question trusted her from the start. Sure, she had a good security clearance, but so did Barbara. So she was pleased that he had shown such confidence in her.