by Tony Walker
"I thought he might be considering coming over for real. He was very insistent we make a plan for saving his wife from you."
"Don't worry. I discussed that with him. It's to make it more convincing."
"I'll take your word for it."
"It's to boost your career. If you have a coup like this you will end up being promoted and be of very great use to us."
"I know the theory. He doesn't know about me?"
"Of course not."
"Does he know why he's doing this?"
"He thinks it's just to feed disinformation to the Americans via the British. We want to frighten the Americans by letting them know how their aggressive rhetoric is destabilising things. Also, if the CIA think Vinogradov is a good source then the British will be able to bargain with them to get information from the CIA about their operations against us worldwide. And then you will let us know what they are. But Vinogradov doesn't know any further than the disinformation. I promise you."
"Ok I am reassured. But if I do believe that Vinogradov may be doing some independent thinking, I'll let you know."
"But not like this John. Not face to face. At least not in London. Use the other methods of getting in touch with me." He leaned over and stole a chip. He pulled a face.
"The ketchup helps disguise the taste," said John.
"Awful food. I will leave now. But I want to say how important the material you are providing is. You are helping us stop a world war." As he got up he said, "How's Karen?"
"Not good. She's in hospital with depression. My mother is here looking after the girls."
Bebur shook his hand. "I promise you if anything goes wrong I will get them out of here to be with you in Russia."
"Thank you."
John stood and Bebur hugged him. After he'd gone John waited ten minutes and then left, leaving most of his burger and fries uneaten.
June 1985 - Copenhagen: The day John left Ailsa in the hotel, he walked from the Vester Volgade into the City, going briskly along the Strøget and, as he did so checking the shops for potential gifts to take home to Karen. He had memorised the route from his guidebook. Across Gammeltorv Square then up the Nørregarde until he could see the Reformation Monument opposite the imposing pillars of the Church of Our Lady. And there standing in front of it was Yelena in a floral summer dress. She smiled when she saw him coming towards her and then when he was close, she leant forward and kissed him like an old friend.
"It's lovely to see you John. It's been a long time."
"Can we get off the street Yelena?"
"Of course. We have a place."
He followed as she walked back into the narrow shopping streets. He tried to take notice of notice of where he was going but it was difficult to concentrate. "You're sure you're not being followed?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I'm an Embassy wife out for a walk on a beautiful day. I've done a bit of shopping." She raised her right arm and showed dangling plastic bags with the names of various Danish stores. He noticed she'd bought some shoes.
Suddenly, Yelena ducked into a door cut out of a large graffiti ornamented gate that blocked the entrance to what must have once been a stable yard. He did not immediately follow but looked around to try and orientate himself. With a giggle, she reached out and grabbed his bare arm to pull him after her. "Don't get lost, silly." He had to step over and into the quiet, damp courtyard. Pigeons fluttered away as they stepped inside and alighted on ledges above their head to continue their cooing. Once they were in she smiled. She pointed up to some metal stairs that led up to a dirty door next to a filthy window. "It's good. We're safe here. Up there."
"You go first," he said.
"It is possible," she said and went ahead up the clanging stairs. He followed her warily. She knocked on the door and Bebur Gelashvili opened it. He ushered John in and then gave him a hug and kissed him on each cheek in the Russian way. "You are very welcome here John."
"I'm shaking like a leaf."
"Take a tea. Or I have Coke. It is a warm day." The room was bare. It had been some kind of workshop; there were cobweb draped tools on the dusty shelves and yellowing machine tool manuals in Danish. There was a fold up table standing on thin metal legs and three odd chairs; two camp chairs and one made of wicker that had a hole in it. Bebur sat on that one. On the table was paper and a pencil and three cans of coke. An electric kettle sat on a dirty worktop beside a stained sink. The kettle had recently boiled from the steam coiling from its mouth. There were four clean mugs and a plate with a knife and half a lemon.
"We appreciate the risk you have taken," said Bebur.
John nodded. He reached over and got a can of coke. He snapped back the ring pull and drank it down in deep gulps until it was half empty. "Sorry, I'm thirsty."
Bebur smiled. "It is for you. You are looking well."
John nodded. "You too." Then he looked at Yelena. "And you too of course. Though you always look lovely."
Yelena blushed. "You are gallant. I have just learned that word."
"You have made my wife blush!" laughed Bebur. "I could get jealous! But seriously John you have provided us with useful information. This is the first time we have been able to meet face to face."
"So you got the stuff through the DLB?"
Bebur nodded.
"What is DLB?" asked Yelena.
"Dead letter box," said John. "In this case an empty Coke can in the park." He wiggled his Coke can as an illustration.
"You should know what is a DLB," said Bebur.
Yelena looked peeved. "Why? I am not a trained intelligence officer like you. Why should I?"
Bebur waved at her to be quiet. She flushed but said nothing.
Bebur said, "I know we have known each other for a long time. But you know there are procedures. There are things I have to clarify."
"For the file," said John.
Bebur nodded. "Just so - for the file. So I wanted to ask you John. Why do you want to work for us?"
"I told Mr Kirkby. Though that's not his name."
"Using an Illegal was the only way we could make contact."
"I told him why I came over to you."
"I know, but I'd like you to tell me. For the file."
"Because all my life I've seen how unjust Capitalist society is. How the haves connive to keep their privilege and live off the backs of ordinary people. How they exploit them and feed them scraps to make them think they are free - offering them TVs and designer trainers to keep them quiet. Feeding them nonsense about how their low wages and bad housing are all the fault of immigrants and foreigners."
Bebur looked thoughtful. "But you are privileged compared to the low paid and unemployed. You have a position in British Intelligence. Why is this your fight?"
"But this is what I come from. This is what I am loyal to."
"You went to an expensive school. We have researched you,"
Yelena looked at him protectively. Now and again she flashed a look of disapproval at her husband's questioning. John said, "You should know my real father was a member of the Party. MI5 deceived him into betraying what he believed in."
"Though you never met him."
"He couldn't live with what he'd done - even though they tricked him into it. I want to make up for what they did to him."
"You are a romantic I think. Sentimental maybe."
John flushed. "If you don't trust me I should leave now."
Yelena looked alarmed - as if she were about to come and hug him and protect him from her wicked husband.
Bebur gestured for him to continue sitting. "You must understand we have to be sure. You could be a provocation to lure us out and cause us harm."
John nodded. "I understand. But my side was chosen for me."
Bebur shook his head. "No. You could have joined them. They accepted you as one of their own. They would think you are betraying them."
"If I don't help you, I betray what I am."
Bebur changed the subject. He no longer explored
John's motivation, but instead sought to strengthen it. "You know the time and money MI5 puts into identifying left wing "subversives". You know they follow and listen to people who demand workers rights."
"I know very well."
"But they put little into into identifying fascist groups."
"Half an officer. She deals with Scottish and Welsh Nationalists too."
Bebur nodded. "And if the West loves democracy and hates dictatorships, why does it fund right wing death squads in South America? Why does it fund dictatorships in Libya and Iraq who torture and "disappear" whoever speaks against them?"
"They don't hate dictatorships when they protect business and capital. They only target people who speak up for the poor."
"And who funds Reagan and Thatcher?"
"Millionaires who don't want the State giving healthcare and education for the poor."
Bebur appeared satisfied. "We think alike. I am proud to call you Comrade. You are running great risks for our cause and we will never forget that."
"It's my cause too. I've seen them run down my people with horses. I know the truth."
"Remember they will lie. They will use any weapon including blackmail, including murder but especially they distort the press by paying journalists to write stories favourable to them and still pretend the press is free. You take a great risk going against them. "
"I'm prepared to take the risk."
"I know. But if you ever need us, we will get you out. We never leave our people behind." He took John's hand and held it tight. "I'm glad you came. I wanted to see you and tell you that you are not alone."
John looked at his watch. "I only have so much time. I need to buy a present for Karen. That's my cover for this absence."
Yelena smiled. "I have saved you time. I have bought a beautiful gift."
She reached into one the shopping bags she had brought with her. She pulled out a lilac box with silver writing in Danish on it, which she clicked open and there nestling on a bed of silk was a beautiful gold necklace with a ring of fire opals round a ruby as its centre piece.
"My God, Yelena that is beautiful. I don't know if I can afford it though."
She waved away his protest. "No it is a gift to you for this work. It is also my gift to Karen for sparing you to come and meet us."
"She doesn't know anything about it."
Bebur nodded. "Of course. I don't need to tell you not to confide in anyone. Not even her."
August 1985 - London: A week later Karen came home. She'd been in hospital over a month. She seemed much better. Coming through the door, she smiled and hugged the girls who were delighted to see her back. There were hugs and tears between her and John's mother. Later that day, they all went to King's Cross Station to see Elizabeth off back to Edinburgh. John took care with Karen. He tried to think of little things she would appreciate. He made her breakfast in bed. He offered to take the girls when she looked tired. Sometimes she would wave him away with a smile and let the little ones fall asleep on her breast. Other times she nodded and let him take them and rock them to sleep in his arms, dancing slowly round to the lullabies on the CD player. At weekends they went out to feed the ducks. When it was warm, they listened to classical music on the grass at Kenwood. He took her to her favourite shop in Hampstead and bought her earrings with garnets. She wore them with the fire opal necklace he'd brought back from Copenhagen.
For the next two weeks he hardly saw Ailsa. It seemed that when he was in she was out. He felt guilt in his stomach. He attempted to shut the memory of her naked in the bed behind locked and bolted doors but she seeped back like a subtle poison. The remorse was worse when he was with Karen - standing in the kitchen with her, making her a bacon sandwich, watching through the window as she smoked in the garden and she waving back with a shy smile. But he still couldn't touch Karen. Not that Karen wanted him to. Despite what she said about wanting to repair things, the thought of sexual contact still disgusted her and she treated his body as if it was vile and unclean.
He saw Ailsa in the office day after day. She made coffee and didn't speak. She joked with the others but didn't talk to him. He felt a gnawing coldness in his belly. He wanted to end it to give himself peace with Karen. But when he feared it was over, he didn't want it to end at all. There were some times Ailsa couldn't avoid him. It was Wednesday. Ailsa came up to him in the office and said. "It's Vinogradov day. Do you want to make our way over? I've got a car."
He nodded.
In the car, she drove. Traffic was slow. "Good job we started off early," she said.
He said, "I've missed you. I thought you'd been deliberately avoiding me."
She stared through the windscreen. "I thought it was for the best. I've missed you too. But the anxiety of being with you is unbearable. I've been sick with it. I can't sleep. I just imagine my whole life crashing down. "
"So it's business as usual between you and Duncan?"
"Don't be cruel."
He watched the shops go by outside. Sourly he said, "I suppose it's down to security. He's got lots of money. You have a big house."
"That's what you think?" She said dryly.
"What else is there? I can't give you what Duncan can. Your life with me would be very different. Much poorer."
"I have my own money."
"I don't want your money," he said.
"I hate you sometimes for the way you make me feel." She reached out with her left and took his. "Can't we be nice to each other?"
"Nice? Sure."
She said, "When it was just sex, it was ok. But now feelings have got involved. They mess your life up." She took her hand back to change gear.
He said, "So where does that leave us?"
"I can't leave him. But I want you in my life. Sounds like one of the agony aunt letters in TV Quick." Then she laughed. "See how I'm reduced to banalities?"
"Love is banal," he said. He felt angry but he took her hand back, not wanting to let her go. "But you're not being fair," he said.
"I know"
Vinogradov was late. Ailsa made coffee. John opened a window to look out. No reports from the watchers. Then he heard Rob Parry's voice to say that Vinogradov was hurrying out of the Tube. When he got there he looked nervous. He lit his habitual cigarette. Ailsa offered him coffee but he wanted water. John waited for him to speak. Ailsa smiled politely. He knew she didn't like Vinogradov and wondered if he could tell.
Then Vinogradov said, "I was talking to Sokolenko, the Line KR Officer. You know him?"
John shook his head. "I know who he is. We haven't met."
Vinogradov took a sip of water then a drag of his cigarette. In some way he seemed to be enjoying himself. "Yes, Sokolenko probably shouldn't have told me."
"If he shouldn't why did he?" asked John.
"He must have thought I needed to know."
"Could you tell us what he told you?" asked Ailsa sweetly.
Vinogradov looked at Ailsa and said, "Of course. He said that we have an agent inside your Soviet section." There was the hint of a smile.
"Interesting." said Ailsa, her face showing nothing. John looked away and took a sip of water from his glass.
Ailsa said, "Which Soviet Section - MI5 or MI6? K3? K4? SOV/OPS? which?"
Vinogradov shrugged and said, "I don't know. He did not say any more."
"But why would he tell you?" said John sharply.
Vinogradov ignored John's tone of voice. He said, "There is such an atmosphere of mistrust in KGB residencies. Here we are surrounded by the riches of Western life. We all know that what we have in our heads is worth millions of dollars to the CIA or SIS. Such a temptation."
"But not for you." said John.
"Not the riches. I have not asked you for a penny. That is not what I am doing this for."
"Of course not," said Ailsa, reassuringly. "You know how we appreciate your courage and your commitment to freedom."
"I want better understanding between the West and the Soviet Union. I want to avoid
war."
"You've said all this before," said John tetchily. Ailsa shot him a warning glance.
"So why did Sokolenko tell you about this agent?" asked John rapidly.
"I have indicated. He probably told others in the Residency to frighten them off any ideas of talking to British Intelligence."
"So it might not be true?" asked Ailsa.
Vinogradov shrugged. "No of course. It might be deception. We all do this in our business, no?"
"You seem remarkably unworried," said John.
Vinogradov glared at him. "I am very worried. But as a professional intelligence officer I do not let my emotions give me away."
"We will investigate this," said Ailsa quickly.
Vinogradov said, "Until you do, I can have nothing to do with you. I cannot risk my life recklessly. I have my wife and children who depend on me."
"Ok," said Ailsa reasonably. "We won't schedule another meet. But we will probably want to know more than this. If you can find out more without arousing suspicion, we'll be very grateful."
" I can use the DLB. I hope this operation is very closed. My name I mean."
"Of course. It has a very limited indoctrination list," said Ailsa. "You have the emergency contact number?"
"Yes. I ask for Mr Anderton, and when he is not in I put the phone down and you will meet me in 30 minutes in Soho Square."
When they were driving back to the office. Ailsa said, "Well that's a turn up for the books."
John nodded. "But that's what they'd tell us if Vinogradov was a plant. Guaranteed to paralyse us."
"That's right of course. Leave it with me though. I'll speak to TCI."
"And even if he isn't a plant, the KGB management lie to their own people all the time."
"And ours don't of course," she said.
"Well I'm sure somebody's lying somewhere," said John.
"You can bet your bottom dollar on that one. I'm going to drive down to Century House. Can I drop you off here?" They were approaching Hyde Park Corner.
"Sure. When will I see you again?"
"I don't know."
"We need to talk," he said. "Somewhere private."