A Friend in Deed

by G D Harper

  My blog became the most talked about and widely read political website in the UK, but it was a pyrrhic victory. Outside of the Westminster political bubble, it was having little real impact on voters’ intentions. It was incredibly disheartening.

  Then Nigel called, telling me to come to see him, immediately. His voice had a zombie-like tinge that was unsettling, even a little sinister. It didn’t sound like he was having a meltdown; just the opposite, he was eerily calm. He said he had found something out, something I needed to know immediately. I set off, full of trepidation about what he was going to tell me.

  It sounded serious, and I steeled myself to hear some big news. But nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to find out.

  chapter thirteen

  Nigel was in his chair, gently swaying from side to side, like a contented baby rocking in its cradle.

  ‘Okay, Nigel, what is it? You’re looking very pleased with yourself. What have you found out?’

  He looked serious. ‘You said it wasn’t a Bad Thing. You did. I said it’s not like stealing from a shop, and you agreed with me. Didn’t you, Duncan?’

  The swaying had stopped now. He was approaching an equilibrium point before he went into being agitated. I tried to keep him as calm as possible.

  ‘Nigel, you know I haven’t got a good memory. Not as good as you, remembering everything like Sherlock Holmes. Remind me, what’s not like stealing from a shop?’

  ‘Hacking. Remember you asked me about it when we first met? And I told you it was easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy? And you said it was alright to do it if it meant you uncovered lies?’

  I was getting concerned.

  ‘You’ve been doing some hacking? Is that why you wanted to see me?’

  ‘That Russian malware virus was super, super smart. The smartest computer coding in the world. Smarter than anything I’d ever seen before. I’ve been practising writing coding like that. So I could be super smart.’

  I started to take deep, calming breaths.

  ‘Have you been hacking into Act Now!’s computers, Nigel? We discussed that, remember? I said that I’d split my fees with you for stories where the things you found out formed the basis of the story. But that it had to be verifiable and you couldn’t do anything illegal. I’m sure you’ve not forgotten.’ I spoke with a severe authority, like a headmaster berating a badly-behaved schoolboy.

  It had little effect on the smirk on Nigel’s face.

  ‘You said it was illegal because it was stealing and I said that it wasn’t really stealing because it helped discover lies and lies were bad and could be worse than stealing. If you do a little stealing but find a big lie, then it’s not illegal any more. It’s a Good Thing.’

  ‘Nigel, tell me what you’ve been up to.’

  ‘And I knew I’d find a big lie. And I did. She’s a big, big liar. Liar, liar, pants on fire.’

  ‘Nigel, you are not making any sense. What are you talking about?’

  ‘Tanya. She was only pretending to be Mrs Hudson, and helping us out. I built a malware virus like the Russians and I put it on the computers at the British Council, where you told me she worked. And then I went snooping just like Sherlock Holmes and found that Tanya Petrenko used to work at the British Council, but she left a year ago. But she didn’t really leave, they still pay her salary, but the same amount is paid into the British Council every month from another bank account to cover it. Her phone is only a voicemail account, nobody else can pick it up if it rings. It’s the only phone in the British Council like that. The person who took over her job organises all the exhibition openings in Russian-speaking countries. Not her. I’ve been through the emails – the new person does everything for exhibition openings, Tanya’s not even copied in. She does go along to the openings, sends in her expenses, and they’re paid from this other bank account. But somebody else does all the work.’

  ‘What does she do, then?’ My head was spinning.

  ‘She goes into the office once a day and sends one email on a secure computer. I looked at the time she swipes in, the computer is switched on five minutes later and closed down five minutes before she leaves. She does nothing else. I tried to see what she was writing, but the email she sends is super-encrypted and the computer has its own second-tier firewall. I should be able to get past any normal firewall, but this one is special. I can look at whatever’s on any other computer in the British Council, but not that one.’

  ‘There must be some innocent explanation,’ I said. ‘Maybe this other person’s her assistant, and maybe you need extra security when dealing with the Russians.’ Tanya had never mentioned an assistant. I was clutching at straws.

  ‘She’s a big liar. I knew she was. That’s why I stole the data. But it was a Good Thing stealing because I found a big, big lie.’ Nigel started to swing in his chair in self-congratulatory oscillation.

  I finally snapped, furious at his smugness.

  ‘What gives you the right to go snooping after Tanya? She’s one of us. A friend. You don’t betray a friend.’

  Then I stopped to think. The starkness of her flat, nothing to show her past; nothing lying around from her job at the British Council. I thought about our first meeting, randomly bumping into each other at the National Portrait Gallery. Then the good fortune of her giving me a red-hot tip about the Russians building Britain’s nuclear power stations. And then, once I’d swallowed that information, how she went on to become a source of even more intelligence about Act Now! and the Russians.

  ‘But why would a Russian spy want to undermine their own programme? And why would the British Council let them? It doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘It does.’ Nigel was as excited now as the time he told me about alien spaceships saving Chernobyl. ‘Do you want to know my theory? She’s not a Russian spy. She’s a British one. MI5 are using her to feed information to you about Act Now!, because they can’t do it themselves, prosecute their own government. They needed someone to get all the secrets out in the open, so they’d be forced by public pressure to investigate. That’s why you’ve been getting told everything.’

  For a second I wanted to scream in anguish, to release the torment inside me. My mind flailed about, trying to make sense of what Nigel was telling me. Then a new wave of emotion flooded over me; one of fury and anger. First at Tanya for her treachery, as I processed how believable the things that Nigel had found out could be. And then at myself. For being so stupid, so gullible, so convinced that I was a brilliant investigator that I never for a second considered whether I was being used and manipulated. I was so conceited about how smart I was, I never thought about why so much of this stuff started landing on my lap after Tanya showed up.

  ‘Show me,’ I said, picking at my nails. ‘Show me everything you’ve found.’

  Nigel handed me a pile of printouts he had made of his findings. I picked them up and started reading. I wanted to vomit. Everything Tanya had told me was a lie.

  I glanced over at Nigel. His face was blank as he stared into space. He caught me looking at him and something deep inside fought its way through the dysfunctional synapses of his brain.

  ‘I’m sorry, Duncan,’ he said. ‘She was a bad friend.’

  ‘Is there any way Tanya or her bosses could know you’ve been snooping around? Any chance at all?’

  ‘No. I’ve never been able to find the slightest crack in her computer security, so in a way that’s a Good Thing, it means I can’t have left a trace. Unless someone is monitoring the proxy sources I investigated, we’re in the clear.’ He looked up and gave me a cheery smile. ‘It’s the two of us, again, isn’t it? You and me, Holmes and Watson, no Mrs Hudson.’

  His words cut through me. I could feel my anger bubbling up again, with an intensity even greater than before. Everything, even that night in bed together, all of it a sham. I pulled myself back under control.

 
‘Yes, just the two of us, Nigel.’

  I headed over to Tanya’s flat, my head feeling it was going to explode with all the emotions raging through me: anger, indignation, betrayal, all fighting for supremacy. But underneath them all, another one was silently, profoundly taking over. Sadness. No matter what her reasons, no matter what she said, our friendship was over. It wasn’t that she had lied to me, it was that I could never believe her ever again.

  I rang the doorbell. I almost willed her not to answer, to give me a short, precious delay from having to confront her. But after a few seconds I heard that familiar voice saying hello, with the cute little emphasis on the second syllable that always made me smile.

  ‘It’s Duncan.’

  ‘Duncan. We are meeting? I forget.’

  ‘No, you didn’t forget. I need to talk to you. Can you let me in?’

  She must have heard the ice in my voice. She made no reply, the sound of the buzzer unlocking the door her only response. I walked up the stairs, that long climb so often the precursor to an evening of laughter and frivolity. Now the sound of every footstep was like the tolling of a funeral bell.

  She was standing at the entrance to her third-floor flat, half-hiding behind the door. As I approached, she must have seen something in my eyes, and the door started to close. For a moment I thought I would be left standing on the outside, but then she stopped, opened the door and stood with her back to the hallway wall. She stared at the floor, no eye contact. Eschewing our regular embrace, I walked grim-faced into the living room.

  ‘What has happened? Are you okay?’ Her voice was full of concern. There was a sickly expression on her face as she held her elbows tightly against her side. ‘Tell me, Duncan.’

  ‘I’ve found out that you don’t work for the British Council. That you’ve got security systems on your computer that only a professional spy would have. You’ve been setting me up, feeding me with information, to try to discredit Act Now!. Everything about you is a lie, isn’t it?’

  She slid down the wall, pulled some hair across her face and let it hang there. Then she clasped her knees together and hugged herself tightly.

  ‘Da,’ she said softly.

  I turned away. That way I didn’t have to look at her. ‘So, you’ve been using me from the beginning? Our meeting wasn’t an accident, it’s all been part of a plan to manipulate me to do whatever you and your bosses wanted to do? Did they even tell you to fuck me? How can you live with yourself, Tanya? Is that even your real name?’

  I stopped. My anger was taking control and I had to stay calm. I had achieved my first objective, proving that Nigel’s suspicions were correct. Now I needed to find out why, what game I had been a part of. Then I could slam the door behind me and get on with the rest of my life.

  ‘Duncan, I think you should leave. You are angry, and I don’t want to say more. Please go.’

  ‘I need to know. Who are you? Why are you doing this?’

  She ran her hand through her hair. ‘I can’t tell you. I can’t.’

  ‘Then all this goes on the internet with your name all over it.’ I threw Nigel’s folder at her. ‘Here, have a look.’

  She flicked through the folder. ‘This was Nigel, I suppose?’ she said, her voice carrying a weary resignation. ‘You publish this, and my days in London are over.’

  ‘Then tell me what’s true and I might go easy on you. If you deserve it.’

  ‘My name really is Tanya Petrenko. I’m from Ukraine and I used to be model.’ She stood up and I could see tears in her eyes. ‘I got job at British Council four years ago. All that is true. Then my brother was killed by Russian supporters in Ukraine and my world collapsed. My little brother, who only wanted Russians to leave us alone.’ She stared at me, shaking, trembling.

  I remained silent, not trusting myself to speak.

  She shrugged. ‘I quit job. Cannot be fun person when you are dying inside. I plan to go back to Ukraine, maybe be primary school teacher, I have qualification. But before I left, this guy I never met before at British Council, he told me if I wanted my brother not to have died for nothing, there was something more important I could do for his memory. Find out Russian plans for UK from top Russia guys with big mouths. Who like Ukrainian girls.’

  She walked into the living room and crumpled onto the sofa. I sat down opposite her, steeling myself to stay silent.

  ‘I tell them I’m no whore,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘But he was convincing. He knew I was, well, not exactly schoolgirl virgin. He said, we make opportunity for you to meet guys. You like them, great. You don’t like them, no problem, say goodbye. Never would I have to do something disgusting. I say yes, for one year. For my brother. When year up, they offer me new job.’

  She looked me straight in the eye, her gaze burning with growing intensity. I looked away.

  ‘When Act Now! win election, MI5 had big problem. They knew Russia was behind new government, but for security service to make accusation would be catastrophe. They need someone else to tell story, then they can say they were forced to investigate. Only once they are ready to prove everything, would they dare to bring down government. They draw up list of people to help with story. But they must never know they were part of plan. I’m told to meet three guys, write report, then they choose the one to give stories to. They chose you.’

  ‘You knew who I was before we ever met at the art gallery?’ I needed to hear her say it.

  ‘Da. They knew you visited there. When you left your Soho House club they tell me to go there, pretend to bump into you. The first few times we met, I was doing my job. Then I become unprofessional, start to like you too much. I tell my bosses that we need to use another guy, but they tell me no.’

  ‘And were you doing your job when we slept together?’ I tried to keep the venom out of my voice.

  ‘No. Unprofessional behaviour.’ Tanya gave a thin smile. ‘I wanted to. You can believe me or not.’

  ‘So how much of our time together was “unprofessional behaviour” and how much was doing your job?’

  ‘All I had to do was get information to you that you believed you were finding out for yourself. You passed first test, realising the importance of what I tell you and using smart IT guy to help you find more. They promote you to next level, get Dmitry Vlasov to give you files. He had contacted MI5 saying he had information, they told him they would send you out to Moscow to get it, but you did not know MI5 were behind you. Dmitry promised he would play along so that you believed everything you were finding out, you were doing by yourself. You could not betray MI5 operation, if you didn’t know you were part of it. Then you passed third and final test.’

  There was a sour taste developing in my mouth; metallic, bitter. I went to ask for a glass of water but stopped myself. I wanted this to be over as quickly as possible.

  ‘What was the third test?’

  ‘Courage. If you did good job of publicising what Dmitry found out, they were going to give you crown jewel of their intelligence, Pavel Mikin himself. But to be chosen for that, you needed to be not only be good blogger. You needed to be brave.’

  ‘And how did you test my courage?’ I had to keep forcing myself to talk to her.

  ‘Plane ticket to London. Making it business class was nice touch, wasn’t it? Classy.’ Tanya almost went to smile again but caught herself just in time. ‘The plan was, that after you got information from Dmitry and guy from troll factory, MI5 would play stunt of leaving you ticket on next plane back to London. To see if you were street smart enough to run, but also brave enough to take evidence with you and write story when you got back. You passed on both counts.’

  ‘And my prize was Pavel Mikin getting in touch?’

  ‘Exactly. MI5 had turned him into double agent and he was my new job before you; I was his handler, based in Moscow. But they daren’t risk publicising themselves what he was telling them, th
e constitutional repercussions would have been unprecedented. Fan would be hit by shit. You had to be completely convincing that you were independent investigative journalist. And you were convincing, because that’s what you believed you were.’

  ‘You and Mikin must have enjoyed a good laugh about my gullibility when you saw him in Moscow.’

  ‘No, Duncan.’ My jibe had rankled her. She stood up. There was a sharp tone in her voice. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You were lucky one to be chosen. I don’t hear you complaining that you are now famous blogger, not scrabbling for crumbs from the table. That the world waits to hear what the next big scandal is you tell them. Maybe you should not complain so much.’

  Her words had a ring of truth to them. But I wasn’t going to give way in my anger. ‘You lied to me. And you were good at it. That didn’t happen by accident.’

  ‘I hated every second of lying to you. MI5 knew that you wouldn’t want to go back to Moscow because of the plane ticket threat and so you’d agree with using me as an intermediary as the only way forward. When you agreed, I was able to work directly with Pavel as his handler again, to get information to you, and you would think it had been your idea.’

  ‘I want you out of my life, Tanya. I never want to see you again.’

  ‘I understand.’ Her voice was toneless, her movements lacklustre. ‘When I got to know you as friend, I worried this day would come. I ask myself many times if I should tell you. But you wanted these stories. They made you top blogger. Why not help you achieve your dream? That was what I told myself. But I also said, if day comes you find out, then no more lies. My bosses, they told me if that ever happened to say nothing, get away from you, terminate the operation. But I have to look you in eye this once and tell you truth.’

  Her despair was unsettling, and for a second my bitterness started to waver. Then the hurt returned. ‘Well, you haven’t tried to deny everything. Thanks for that at least.’