by James Quinn
Murmurs of agreement rose from around the table and a confirming nod came from the Chief to carry on. Porter counted each of the agents off on his fingers, holding onto each respective one like a man holding onto a rope in a sea storm.
“So,” continued Porter, “we have ORION, a Dutch citizen who has risen to be a senior executive with the AGIG Bank in Zurich. He passes the information to Moscow about IMF funding and advises the KGB on the moving of monies for its agents and operations in the West.”
“CIRIUS we know, and then we have LYRA. If CIRIUS is our longest serving agent, then LYRA is our star agent. LYRA is a former Italian Member of Parliament and currently Special Advisor to the UN. British mother, Italian father: she was married to an American businessman who had close ties to the current US Administration. He died several years ago. Moscow believes that she is the KGB's eyes and ears inside both the UN and the White House. Her importance to the network can't be overstated.”
“Next we have SCORPIUS. I know, that codename sounds very dramatic doesn't it, but it belies his commitment to destroying the KGB and the Communist regime. He's a former Nazi engineer, a protégé of Van Braun no less, who currently works at the Weapons Research facility in Hampshire, where he is part of a team heading the next phase of submarine delivered nuclear missiles. He passes his KGB control 'doctored' technical information about missile guidance and propulsion systems.”
“Finally, we have PYXIS, a junior officer at the Government Code and Communications Headquarters outstation in Cyprus. He's of the post-war intake. He had family at Bletchley during the war. The Russians seem to trust him as the KGB is more and more interested in not only new technical code developments, but also who is listening to whom in the Middle East. Plus, there is the whole stable of sub-agents, couriers, safe-houses, de-briefing teams and of course the agent handling team. Not to mention the policy making and disinformation unit that provides the intelligence that we feed to the KGB. All in all, that's a pretty big operation to risk.”
Porter leaned back in his seat, spent after delivering the revue of his agents. But it was only a brief pause. He shrugged and continued with the outline of his operation.
“From the KGB's point of view, the agents of Constellation were perfect, high access, low maintenance. The only thing that concerned them was that not one of them was a thoroughbred, Russian born communist; they were all Western turncoats, and were therefore, by default, classed as completely untrustworthy and totally unreliable. But that's the Russian psyche for you; they see conspiracy and intrigue everywhere. They could have Stalin himself providing the intelligence and they'd still think he was a traitor. It's who they are.”
There were several discreet rumblings of laughter from around the table. All the men recognized the truth in Porter's statement. He pulled a wry grin at his own wit before carrying on.
“But – and it took a long, long time – the Russians began to see the merits of using these agents. They proved themselves again and again and again. Oh, not in the big things, but in the small details of intelligence. A piece of gossip that turned out to be factual, a sub-agent who allowed himself to be recruited, a shred of information that confirmed a piece of intelligence. The usual things. It was an operation within an operation. First to get the network recruited and then to establish their bona fides. And eventually the Russians started to have a little faith, and then a bit more trust, until eventually someone in Moscow was having a nice little career promotion on the back of Constellation's intelligence product. And that was when we knew that they had bought into us hook, line and sinker.”
Porter could see Sir Richard, C, nodding in silent agreement. He knew that Sir 'Dickie' had been on the front-line of the espionage war during the second round of unpleasantness, running German agents first in Europe before 1940 and later running them back as doubles, and he knew the pitfalls from first-hand experience.
“Constellation has been able, over the past few years, to influence Soviet policy on political decision making, strategic armed forces, missile strength and a wide variety of technical capabilities. At times we've made it appear as if the West is weak and at other times as though we are strong. Our aim is to keep the Russians off balance and thus far, we have been quite successful.” Porter sighed and looked at his hands; sadness had descended over him and C had recognized it immediately as the melancholy of the agent-runner. “They're my boys and gals, you see. I've borne them, carried them, bullied them and fretted over them in some of their darkest days.”
Another pause for breath, then Porter once again hammered out his theory on what not to do, to save his beloved network. “Now to our options, as I see it, in my role as their controller. Simply removing those agents from danger, oh, were that it was at all possible. That would be the easy option, certainly, but I fear that even the slightest hint of something out of the ordinary would cause ripples throughout Russian Intelligence. The KGB is nothing if not suspicious of everything, even its own agents. We move them, and remember that's a whole network, questions will be asked by the Russians. Why are you all going to ground? What is this, a group holiday?”
There was no laughter this time. They were into serious territory and they all knew it.
Porter became more earnest, his voice taking on more authority. “If we alert them, again it will cause them to act out of character. Something they've spent many a year building up, to gain the trust of Russian Intelligence. A scared and frightened agent begins to do silly things, takes risks, and acts like a bloody nightmare. What we need to do is keep them operationally unconscious for as long as we can about this assassination team. Apart from anything else, one of Constellation's agents, LYRA, before she was widowed, was married to a very influential American citizen with close personal links to the hierarchy in the White House…the current President's Chief of Staff no less. Links she still retains to this day!”
Masterman, who so far had shown very little interest in the whole briefing did, however raise an eyebrow at that. This portly, slovenly man must be one hell of an agent-runner to have such a prize of an agent, he thought to himself.
“She's a very clever lady who believes that cooperation between Europe and America is essential for dismantling the Communist regime. If we declared the details of Constellation's work to the CIA, it would mean bringing forth details of American citizens working indirectly for us,” said Porter.
“And knowing the CIA, they'd want to take over the whole shooting match,” said Harper, who knew from bitter experience how the Agency had a reputation for running roughshod over someone else's show.
“Not to mention the considerable embarrassment that it would cause, not only between services, but also on a political level. We spy on our friends as well as our enemies. It would bring the whole house of cards down,” said Barton.
“What about agent PYXIS? Why doesn't he make their list?” asked C.
Porter nodded as if he had been expecting the question. “PYXIS is our new boy, Chief, and has only been active for a little over a year. Wherever the original intelligence came from, it appears to have been before he was recruited.”
“I see,” said C. “Well, that's good luck for him – shame it can't be said for the rest of the network. Poor buggers.”
“But that's not the most surprising thing about this recording. Far from it,” said Porter.
“Well, what is Bernie? Come on man, speak up,” said Barton.
“Well, Sir, it's the fact that only four of the targets mentioned are a part of Constellation. The remaining names don't have anything to do with us. They appear to be legitimate Soviet agents!”
“Good Lord!”
“Yes, the Diplomat and the Quartermaster. We seem to have run into a genuine Soviet intelligence operation,” said Porter, amused at the irony of it all.
“And what do we make of the seventh target, this so far unnamed Russian Intelligence officer?” said C. “Surely if we go around bumping off each other's spies, it will cause no end of chaos
between services.”
Barton took out his pipe and lit it. He waved the match like a man with recently numb fingers and then ceremoniously tossed it into a nearby ashtray. “That is harder to manage I agree; after all there isn't much of a description of the man. More importantly, why do they want him dead? Agents, well alright, I can see how that may be expedient, we do the same ourselves from time to time,” he said flicking a brief glance down to Masterman's end of the table. “But it's a little extreme to start eliminating a fellow professional, even if he is a bloody Russian.”
The men around the table all knew the unwritten rule of the intelligence business: no sanctioned killing of other service's officers, no matter how tempting it might be on occasion. They were professionals and after all such a lunatic action was only one step away from all out warfare. The Cold War was already at fever pitch and it wouldn't take much to tip the balance.
C turned to Porter. “Anyone you know, Bernie?”
Porter considered this. “Well, Sir, the Russian intelligence officer that runs several of the Constellation agents, sort of my opposite number if you like, has a reputation for being ruthless. Perhaps the Americans have tired of having to play against him. Of course it could be a dozen other KGB officers of equal experience, but without further information it's only guesswork about which one it could be I'm afraid.”
C nodded. He knew that agents could, over the course of their careers have several different case officers; it was normal routine in the spy world. “Maybe you could have a dig about with your agents Bernie, see if there is anyone that fits the bill from their Russian contacts. At least if we can identify him we can make a more informed decision about whether to feed him to the dogs.”
* * *
They stopped for another tea break, a stretch of their legs and backs and a quick trip to the toilet for several of the older members.
When they resumed it was C who moved the meeting on to the next phase. “So Bernie, we were talking about Constellation and how it is necessary to protect it. Perhaps you could share some more information about the time constraints that we have placed upon ourselves in carrying this out. I know that some of us are up to speed in this operation of yours, but it would rather help if you could lay out what you are hoping to achieve in the endgame.”
Porter, refreshed and cleansed, once again leaned forward across the table and spoke with a quiet authority. “Gentlemen, Constellation is only one facet of this operation. It is in fact running in tandem with a much larger and more complex strategic intelligence operation. If Constellation is the means, then Operation SHREDDER is the end result.”
Porter turned his gaze to Harper, the Director of Soviet Operations. “Perhaps you might like to take over from here, sir. SHREDDER is after all, under your direct control.”
Harper nodded. The senior intelligence officer checked through his notes, made a small annotation, and began. “Thank you Porter. Over the past few years the Russians have been carrying out more and more aggressive operations and ramping up the tensions of the Cold War to unparalleled levels. Assassinations, rolling up of networks, plus the recent crisis in Cuba seem to have caught the West on the hop, which, let's face it, is an unenviable position for any intelligence service to be in.”
The men around the table mused on the thought of recent Soviet operations, both military and espionage, and how many Western intelligence services had taken a beating on more than one occasion.
“Well,” continued Harper, “after being in such a low position it was decided that an operation should be mounted, a long term operation. Its aim was to frighten the Soviet Union into a stalemate. I think that the phrase that was used at the time was that if you can't fight, then you should wear a big hat.”
“Oh, I say, I rather like that,” said C, a sly grin spreading across his face.
“Indeed, Chief. As you all know the thought of going to war; dare I say it, a nuclear war with Russia is something of a pipe dream by the hawks in the military. Nobody wants that. It would be the end of all days.”
“It's why we do what we do, to stop the madness happening,” said Barton.
“Agreed and Constellation has played a huge part in containing the excesses of the KGB and its subordinates,” replied Porter.
“So what is the endgame that is so important Harper? What has Constellation been working for all these years?” queried C.
Harper ran a hand over his smooth mane of hair, dislodging several strands before he hurriedly brushed them neatly back into place. “It's a bluff, pure and simple. A big bluff that says we are the scary ones so do not dare to challenge us. There is to be a meeting later this year, in the autumn actually; exactly when is just guesswork at the moment. What we do know however is that in attendance will be several senior KGB officers, senior officials from the Russian military and numerous members of the Politburo. The purpose of the meeting is for the KGB to present, in a sort of symposium I suppose, the latest evidence of Western powers arming to the hilt to stand against the Soviet Union arms proliferation.”
“What will this evidence show?” tested Barton.
“It will lay out in minute detail that we in the West have developed a range of inter-continental ballistic missiles and armaments that are far in advance of anything that the Russians have or are likely to have for the next decade. The evidence that is provided is expected to give the Russians pause, wrong foot them and make them reconsider any aggressive actions.”
“And this false evidence comes from your Constellation network, Porter?” asked Barton.
“Yes. Each of the Constellation agents has, over many years, provided a piece to a jigsaw that is leading to this final operation. On their own, these pieces of intelligence are meaningless, but put together – like a jigsaw – they make up a beautiful picture of a fully armed, technologically advanced and determined Western nuclear policy,” replied Porter.
“So the survival of Constellation, both literally and figuratively is essential for the success of Operation SHREDDER. Is that a fair summation?” said C.
“Absolutely. The ramifications of SHREDDER failing, being exposed or not believed, would set back our military and strategic advantage over the Russians by years. Something that I'm not sure we could recover from. Therefore, the survival and safety of Constellation is paramount, especially agents LYRA and SCORPIUS,” answered Porter.
“Why those two agents in particular, Bernie?” asked C.
“Because they will provide the final clues to the Russians, Sir. SCORPIUS will provide the technical evidence and LYRA the evidence of a more aggressive Western policy in that area. They are our two best agents within Constellation; they are trusted by the Russians and have proved themselves to the KGB again and again. If they confirm what the Russians have been told, then we will have a classic closed loop; namely intelligence supplied and authenticated by several members of the same network,” said Harper.
It was a huge gamble; they all knew that, risking a long term intelligence operation on a very spurious deception plan. But then that was what SIS was there for: to take on the jobs that were harder than most.
“And if it is a success, what is the outcome you're hoping for?” queried Barton.
“Best outcome for SHREDDER is that we scare the living daylights out of the Russians and give them pause about their future actions. Second best outcome is that at the very least we set the KGB off against its military counterparts,” said Harper.
“Explain?” queried C.
“Well, the Soviet military machine, like most military organizations, always wants to have the best hardware and the latest weapons. If we can offer them proof that the weapon systems at our disposal outshine anything that they have by a country mile, then their military can't hope to compete with what they believe we have in the West. They will revert to type and try to dismiss the KGB's intelligence as rubbish.”
“A case of if we don't have it, no one can have it. Their Russian generals will spend so much time bicker
ing with the KGB that they'll cause an internal war. Excellent work,” commented Barton, rubbing his hands beneath the table with glee.
“So it would seem that we are playing for some very high stakes. I must say I do rather like the subtlety and complexity of it all. I suspect it's the type of operation that we all dreamed we'd have the chance to run when we were toddlers in spy school,” considered C.
Chapter Two
“So, the agents, what do we do next?” asked Barton.
“There's only one thing you can do!” The voice when it came caused them to startle. Seated at the far end of the table was Masterman, who so far, hadn't been a contributor to the discussion. His voice was deep and filled with a military style authority. It was a voice that resolved disputes.
The four intelligence bureaucrats turned to their colleague, but it was only the Chief who spoke. “Go on Stephen, you have a suggestion.”
Masterman looked at them. “Thank you, Sir Richard. It seems to me that obviously we can't go cap-in-hand to the Americans and make it known that we have stumbled, albeit inadvertently, onto one of their operations. It would compromise our successful double agent network. Correct?”
“Absolutely,” said Barton.
“We can't pull them out of the game because that would send a warning signal to Russian counter-intelligence, I mean all those agents mysteriously disappearing at the same time. The same for putting a security cordon around them at close quarters. It's too invasive, too easy for the Russians to spot even the most discreet of bodyguards and far too risky. Besides, these extra agents could be a blessing in disguise.”
“In what way?” asked the Chief.
“Because it would make it easier for a good tracker to pick up the scent. These killers have to come out of hiding at some point, who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and they'll make a mistake whilst they are planning to hit one of the genuine KGB agents.”