Faithless

by Tony Walker

  "Son, you are pretty naïve if you think that. I presume you have access to classified information but your wife is a peace nut undermining the work you do every day."

  "I have nothing to do with nuclear weapons. I'm pretty certain also that I am not required by the terms of my employment to back everything Thatcher and Reagan come out with."

  "But you need to be behind your Government's position, son. Otherwise you'll be exploited by the propaganda of every totalitarian out there."

  "I'm grateful for your concern." John turned his back on the man and reached out to Karen. "You ok?"

  "I want to go home."

  Angie had her arm round Karen. John said, "Can you help her into the car with the babies?"

  "Sure."

  "I'll just go and say goodbye to Joe."

  He walked over to where Joe was standing with Philip and Ailsa. Ailsa was dressed casually in a spaghetti strap blue summer top. She had expensive looking sunglasses pushed up onto her head.

  John apologised for the fuss. "Sorry Joe, man. Really sorry."

  "Never mind, dude."

  "Did you hear it all?"

  "Pretty much. Hard to miss." He leaned in, "I'm not without sympathy. We're on the peace loving side ourselves here me and Angie. We just have to keep it to ourselves."

  "Doublethink."

  "Something like that."

  "Still, sorry for ruining your do."

  "Another time, man. Seriously. Just me and you and Karen and Angie. We can talk about love and flowers and things that don't explode."

  "Sounds great. I'll see if we can get a babysitter" He shrugged "She's overwrought from having to look after twins mostly on her own."

  Philip nodded at him, "I wouldn't worry about it, old man. But the belligerent war monger does have a point. Keep your disquiet to yourself."

  Ailsa said, "Spouses are tricky at things like this. I don't bring mine. He'd have the opposite effect to yours. He'd bore everyone to death."

  Joe smiled at her. "I'd better go. See you tomorrow probably."

  "Probably," Ailsa said. Then she added. She's very fiery, your wife."

  "Scottish."

  "We Scottish women are a handful. But I think you must like us."

  Back in the car Karen was quiet.

  "You ok, my lamb?" he said.

  "Aye, I'll be fine. Ignorant old fascist twat."

  "Yep, he was. I didn't know you had joined CND though?"

  "You should pay more attention."

  "I'm worried about war too."

  "But you still work for them."

  June 1985, London: John took to his work at K3. He met all the support agents and managed to be whatever they wanted him to be. He could empty his personality so that they filled it with whatever preconception or projection suited them. He could be a stiff lipped patriot for the colonels; an understated charmer for the female director of a firm dealing in Soviet cotton; a nerdy computer gamer for the IT consultant whom the Soviet technical attaché was cultivating. He reflected whatever light they shone on him.

  K3 knew that Vladimir Vinogradov, suspected to be though not yet formally identified as KGB Line X officer in London since January, had come to the attention of Danish Security in Copenhagen during his last posting. K3 himself decided that it was worth sending some officers out to Copenhagen to PET headquarters to have a talk to the Danish security service who had studied him while he was there. John was pleased to be selected. His co-worker was going to be Ailsa. SIS in their typical way had something extra in mind that necessitated Ailsa going over to Vauxhall Bridge Road to talk to UKB. He wasn't made privy to that.

  John was torn between feeling guilty at leaving Karen with the twins for three days and feeling pleased at his first foreign trip. He spoke to Joe who arranged that Angie would go over and keep Karen company. Joe assured him that it was no hardship and Angie would love it.

  On a bright Monday afternoon they flew from Heathrow to Kastrup Airport. Ailsa read a book the whole way, a historical novel about Ann Boleyn and not at all what he imagined an arrogant upper class Oxbridge First would read. They got a taxi from the airport to their hotel near on the Vester Volgade, round the corner from the National Museum. The weather was wonderful and the taxi windows were down letting in the cooling breeze. The taxi driver helped them out with their bags and the porter came to collect their cases. John had a small holdall; Ailsa a large heavy Liberty print suitcase which the porter struggled with.

  "What have you got in there - bricks?" said John.

  She merely raised an eyebrow and ignored him, giving the porter a generous tip accompanied by a smile from her elegantly glossed lips. At the desk the waiter first greeted them in Danish but within a second switched to English. "Sir, Madam. How pleasant to welcome you to the Hotel Danmark. You have a room booked?"

  Ailsa snorted. "Rooms. Two singles. We're not married and we're not having an affair." She turned and smiled at John. "No offence. I mean it's not that you're ugly or anything."

  "None taken. Neither are you."

  "But?"

  He laughed. "But. I'm not tempted."

  "I see. I think I'm mildly offended."

  The desk clerk looked on in polite impatience.

  Ailsa said, "One room in the name Parker." She turned to John and said, "And what's your name?"

  "Gilroy." The clerk looked puzzled but smiled to clear away the confusion. "Yes, upstairs. They are next door. I hope that is not a problem?" His eyes twinkled.

  "It's ok," said John. "I'll just ignore her if she knocks."

  "You should be so lucky," said Ailsa.

  Another porter came and attempted to get their bags. "It's ok. I'll carry mine," John said.

  "But you can carry mine. Thanks awfully," said Ailsa.

  The porter left them with another generous tip from Ailsa. John lingered at the door as Ailsa went into her room. He called after her. "What do you want to do tonight? Are we going to eat?"

  "No, I have business. I'll be dining out."

  "Oh. I didn't know."

  "It's work. Can't say what. Sorry." She turned round and gave him a smile. It seemed almost friendly. Not one of the ones she reserved for men she didn't know, which were only to get them to open doors or smooth the way before her. "I'll see you tomorrow though for breakfast. We're due at PET at 11? Have you been to Copenhagen before?"

  He shook his head.

  She said, "You might get a ticket for the ballet. Theatre would be awkward as it's in Danish of course. There may be an English language film on somewhere?"

  "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'll go for a walk and find something to do."

  At breakfast the next morning, he was wearing his work suit and had already got himself some cheese and cold meat from the buffet and was sitting down at their table. She came down wearing a salmon pink dress and a black jacket. She sat down. "I'm not really hungry," she said. "Have you ordered coffee yet?"

  He shook his head. She looked over and caught the waiter's eye with one of her smiles. He came right over. "Madam?"

  "Black coffee for me. And you?" she asked John.

  "White."

  He nodded. "White coffee for my friend."

  "I'd rather have tea though."

  She sighed. "Awkward."

  "Tea with lemon sir?"

  "Do you have milk?" asked John.

  "Of course."

  "Just bring a jug of milk and I'll make it up myself."

  After the waiter had gone she looked at him and laughed. "You're very Scottish."

  "I take that as a compliment."

  "I meant it that way." She leaned over to his plate and with her knife cut off a bit of his cheese. After tasting it she said, "Not bad. I think I am hungry after all." She said, "I realise you did that thing with the tea just to show me I can't boss you around."

  "Very perspicacious Mrs Parker."

  "I'm unmarried today."

  "You're used to men doing what you want I guess."

  She la
ughed. "Pretty much."

  PET's office was in a dull looking suburb in the northern part of Copenhagen. The Danes were welcoming and keen to help their British counterparts. They sat down in a boring meeting room while the director of counterintelligence welcomed the representatives from MI5 and MI6 and offered them pastries and coffee. John was impatient to get on with the real business but Ailsa smiled serenely at her hosts and appeared to be delighted by every little compliment. She was like a queen receiving her due homage. Eventually the great and the good left and they were alone with two officers from the Danish Soviet desk. "So," said the tall blonde Dane, "you work on the Soviet Embassy desk in London?"

  John nodded. "I used to until not long ago."

  "Is your Residency very busy? I suppose you have more resources than us."

  "It comes and goes. Keeps us on our toes. What about the KGB here?"

  The shorter blonde Dane said "They are quite a big Residency. They do lots of work against Russian émigrés here in Copenhagen and of course against NATO embassies."

  "Who's the KGB Resident here?" asked Ailsa.

  "A Georgian. A high flyer called Bebur Gelashvili. He's earmarked for the top. Do you know of him?"

  Ailsa shook her head and looked at John. "No," said John. "I don't think he's been posted to London.

  "Not yet," said the Dane, "but it would be a natural future posting."

  "Anyway," said John. "Let's talk about Vinogradov."

  The Danes explained that they were certain from their analysis of his movements and contacts that Vinogradov had been a KGB Line X officer. They had not managed to identify any of his agents but he had taken up the slot of a previous identified KGB man and behaved in a typical manner. Both the UK and Scandinavia were covered by the same KGB section in the First Chief Directorate so it made sense that he was later be posted to London.

  "But there was something unusual about Vinogradov," said the Dane.

  "Oh?" asked John

  The Dane said theatrically, "He went to church."

  "Good God," said John. "Which one?"

  "He went to the Aleksandr Nevsky Orthodox Church here in Copenhagen."

  "How many times?"

  "Only twice in the three years he was here."

  "But he must know that Russian émigré community will be heavily penetrated by the KGB Line KR officer? The priest is bound to be a KGB informer."

  The Dane nodded. "I should think so. Luckily he's also ours."

  "What did he say about Vinogradov?"

  "He said he only spoke to him once, but that he didn't seem very religious."

  "So what was he doing going to church?" said John.

  "Signalling?" said the Dane.

  "But who to?" asked John.

  Ailsa looked at him as if he were stupid. "To us of course."

  Later that afternoon as they arrived back in their hotel lobby Ailsa said, "I'm going to change then do you fancy going out for a walk? We could go and see the Little Mermaid. The weather's lovely."

  John shook his head. "No, I've got something else to do."

  She looked searchingly at him. "Really? What are you 5 people doing snooping around here?"

  "You have your secret business. We have ours."

  "Tommyrot."

  "I could be going to see a friend."

  "You don't have any friends here."

  "How do you know? You hardly know me."

  "Come on - you've rarely been outside Finchley." She teased him.

  He felt himself rise to the bait. "Unlike you?"

  "Unlike me. But I didn't mean it like that." She saw she had offended him. "It was in my background to travel. It's expected. No great shakes."

  "You're very patronising Ailsa."

  She looked apologetic. She reached out and touched his arm and squeezed it like she was his friend. "I am a snooty cow I know. I don't mean to be. " Then her curiosity took over again. " But what are you going to do?"

  "I can see why you're an intelligence officer. You're very nosy."

  "Tell me," she insisted.

  "No."

  "I hate you."

  "I'll see you later."

  "Will you be back for dinner?"

  "Yes."

  "I'll see you then. Maybe you'll tell me then."

  "I won't. It's just something silly."

  "You're having an affair?"

  "No."

  "You're going to buy your wife some underwear?"

  "Closer. But no. Not underwear. I was going to get her a gift though."

  "I could come with you and help you choose. I'm a woman."

  "She doesn't have your taste."

  "Few do. Can't I come?"

  "I'll see you later."

  "Your loss. Want to eat about 7:30?"

  "Fine. I'll see you down here."

  "Ok. Enjoy your sexy shopping."

  "I will." She smiled and walked off. He watched her go up the stairs without a backward glance. Then he stepped out onto the Vester Volgade.

  Hours later when he came back, Ailsa was waiting for him in the hotel bar. She had dressed up in a black cocktail dress. John was wearing a t-shirt and jeans from his walk round the city in the warm summer sun.

  "I'm on my second," she said, indicating the gin and tonic on the table in front of her. "And I've already had an offer from an American businessman to join him for dinner."

  "You should."

  "I was waiting for you. I'm not fickle. Anyway you'll need to go and change. I'm not going into dinner with you dressed like that."

  John said, "I can't be bothered."

  "Go on and change," she said, "I'll get a you a drink. What do you want?"

  "I'll have a G&T too," he sighed. "Do I really have to change?"

  "Yes! Go on."

  "No wonder your case was so heavy with all those bloody dresses into it."

  "Go on. Stop procrastinating."

  He walked out of the bar. An American man sitting alone at a table said, "Women eh? Can't live with them. Can't live without them."

  John smiled. "Fortunately she's not mine."

  The American nodded. "She looks like trouble. But she looks so good it might be putting up with."

  John went up the stairs to his room. He came down wearing a blazer and chinos with a white open necked shirt.

  "Better," said Ailsa. "You look quite nice. Even without a tie."

  He looked at her in her cocktail dress. "I think you think you're Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's."

  She laughed her silver laugh, amused by him. "She's lovely. Thank you." She indicated his drink on the table. "Come on, the waiter's been to say our table's ready."

  He picked up his drink and took a sip of it. "I haven't ordered."

  "I ordered for you."

  He found her maddeningly but fascinatingly arrogant. He'd never met a woman with such brazen confidence. But she did it in a way that insinuated she was interested enough in you to take you over. He didn't know whether he was charmed or angry. He said, "And what did you order for me?"

  "It's all high quality authentic local produce – or that's what it said on the menu. Firstly I've ordered Hønsekødssuppe which is chicken soup with meatballs. And then for the main course some kind of charred herring. Exactly the same as me."

  "Sounds ok. Though it could have gone drastically wrong."

  "How would that be?"

  "Because I'm not exactly the same as you."

  "I'd noticed that, darling," she said.

  They walked through into the dining room. The waiter pulled out Ailsa's chair and she gave him a beaming smile. "Before you go, could I possibly have another G&T?" The waiter nodded.

  "Your third?" said John.

  She narrowed her eyes. "There's no point you looking so critically at me. I can handle my drink."

  He shrugged. "None of my business."

  "So, where did you go today?" she asked.

  "Just wandered around."

  "You were gone a long time."


  "Were you counting the hours?"

  "Sort of. I was reading too. I've finished my book."

  "Do you get bored easily?"

  "Yes, but don't change the subject. What did you buy her?"

  "A necklace."

  "Can I see it?"

  "It's in my room. I'm not going to get it."

  "Oh."

  The drink arrived and shortly after the soup. As they were in a public dining room, they avoided talking about work. Ailsa told him she was thinking of joining a ladies' cricket team.

  "They'll all be lesbians," he said.

  "Don't be judgemental. Anyway, I might like that for all you know."

  "You might."

  They finished their meal and retired with a liqueur to the lounge. She had a Cointreau and he had a malt whisky. Outside the night had fallen over Copenhagen. Ailsa was slightly drunk.

  "Looking forward to going home tomorrow?" he asked.

  "Not really. Bloody work. Bloody husband."

  "I presumed you liked your work."

  "Did you?"

  "You seem very good at it."

  "I'm good at putting people at their ease. For men that mainly means listening to their boring stories and implying that I fancy them."

  "So you're not happy at work then?"

  "It's not really the work. I just get a little down time to time. But who doesn't? What about you? Do you like your new job?"

  "I do. It makes me feel glamorous."

  "Are you happy?"

  "That's a big question. I love my kids."

  "Lovely. Tell me about them."

  "Eilidh and Morag. They're just babies only 18 months old."

  She smiled. "I approve of the good Highland names."

  "My grandma spoke Gaelic."

  "What about your wife?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You said you loved your kids. Then you full stopped."

  He looked puzzled.

  "You didn't add... and I love my wife. Or as would have been more proper, you should have said her first."

  "I've been with my wife since I was 16. I've never been with another woman."

  She looked shocked. "Really?"

  "Really."

  "That's sweet. So romantic."

  "It's just life."

  "You must really love her. Childhood sweethearts. How lovely."