by Tony Walker
"These are the good guys," said Pádraig.
Sean laughed. "If you think I'm handing anyone over to the Brits, you've got another think coming."
"So how do you explain this?" asked John.
"You were ill. I thought you were having a heart attack so we stopped and unlocked your cuffs so we could give assistance. We called Connor to help, when he opened the door off you ran like a hare."
"No one will believe that."
"It's the truth, I swear. And as for the Governor, he's a cute hoor but his heart's in the right place. He didn't like your MI5 friends any more than we did."
Pádraig tapped John on the shoulder. "Come on. We need to get out of here. They'll have to radio the incident in soon."
He walked towards the car and just as he was about to get in he turned to Sean. "Thank you."
Sean gave him a mock salute. "You stood up for your beliefs. They'll call you a traitor. Their newspapers will blacken your name. Well done you."
John sat in the back, while Pádraig drove. They were driving to Cork. It was a long drive on winding roads. The day had turned to rain. They let him half lie down under a blanket in the back and he slept from exhaustion. He woke when they eventually got into the city. They drove to a safe house that Pádraig had arranged. They parked out back.
"I'm starving, " said John.
"There'll be food in the house," said Pádraig.
"And what am I doing after that?"
"Come on. Get off the street you eejit."
Eithne squeezed his arm. "Come on, he's right."
They went in via the back door. As they entered the kitchen, Pádraig called through hello to the front room as he went through. There was a man standing there. When he stepped out of the shadow, John saw it was Bebur. He came forward and gave John s hug. He held him tight like he was his friend. As if he'd thought he'd never make it. "It is so good you're here, John," he said.
"But you shouldn't be here. It's not safe."
"I've come for you."
"But you won't have diplomatic immunity. You could be arrested."
"Did you not think I'd take that risk for you? After you have lost so much for us."
June 1991, Moscow: John made his way to Bebur and Yelena's house in Kropotkinskaya after finishing work at the Department of English of the Moscow State University.
He knocked on the door and Yelena came down to meet him. She was carrying her four year old son Volodya. "Here's your Uncle John," she said to the child in Russian and he beamed. John was a frequent visitor and loved to play with the child - reading to him or kicking round a ball. Yelena welcomed John in with a kiss. They went upstairs to the kitchen where Bebur was cooking. He turned round when he heard them enter. "My hands are covered in cheese," he said. "I won't shake yours yet. Yelena get John some vodka."
"What's on the menu?" asked John.
"We have Khachapuri - cheese bread, then we have some Lobio - red bean soup and then some Sacivi chicken in a walnut and garlic sauce. You've had them all before."
"I love them."
"We have some nice Georgian wine which is made by my uncle. He's started to produce it privately. It used to go to the State company of course, but now we are all capitalists."
John played with Yelena and little Volodya while they waited for the meal. Then they sat up at the table in the dining room. When they had finished they talked and drank wine and listened to Bebur's CDs of Georgian music. Volodya fell asleep and Yelena put him to bed. It was still warm so they went up to the roof terrace to drink more wine. Yelena left them to it and said she was going to read.
The two men sat on the terrace in the warm Moscow night looking over the city. The dome of the church of Christ the Saviour dominated the view.
"You haven't done too badly, " said John.
"You mean financially?"
"I suppose."
"I run a private security firm that protects corrupt bankers. They pay me well for saving their worthless lives."
John drank his wine. "It's not what we wanted."
Bebur laughed bitterly. "40% of the population now live in poverty. Today I saw a man standing outside the metro station in a suit selling a fish. One fish. I recognised him as a surgeon."
"It's bad."
"Teachers, engineers can't get jobs. They are free of course. Free to be poor and unemployed and have no health care. At the same time the criminals get richer. Do you know criminal businesses account for nearly half GDP?" He took a long drink of vodka. "And to be honest, I don't even mind the pimps and whores and drug gangs. At least they are honest criminals. They always were criminals and they wouldn't pretend to be otherwise. But the Oligarchs in the security perimeter blocs with their fur and diamond clad mistresses whose eyes sparkle with cocaine. They send their children to private schools in England and have houses in Beverley Hills. I hate them because their money comes from the sweat of working people. But their only contact with the poor is when they are found frozen to death outside their gates and have to be cleared away to avoid staining the wheels of their Lamborghinis."
John smiled. "You're still a communist then?"
"To my dying day. What about you?"
John sat back and looked at the sky. There was Orion, as bright as it ever was above Edinburgh when he was a boy. "I never change. I still believe what I always believed. " He looked at Bebur. "Not that I haven't made some terrible mistakes."
"You lost your children and your homeland for our cause. I don't forget that"
"Our lost cause," He finished his wine. "But it's still the right cause. I would do it all again."
Bebur refilled their glasses. "Do you regret leaving your wife?" he said.
John looked over towards the Cathedral. "Of course. I regret that I hurt her. If I could take that away I would."
"What about Ailsa?"
John smiled. "She's coming out here next month. She says she's going to stay. You know she works for UNICEF now?"
Bebur raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
John laughed. "Really. She gave up her old job just after I left. You know I don't tell you any lies."
"More vodka?"
"Just one more. Tomorrow I begin to get in shape again." Bebur filled his glass.
"By the way I thought I saw Vinogradov the other day on Tverskaya Street. "
"That's possible. He wasn't long in America. He came back to Moscow."
"Wasn't he punished?"
Bebur shook his head.
John said, "Well that's a bit odd. You know Bebur, I'm still suspicious about how MI5 got onto me."
"You mean you think they had someone in the KGB?"
John nodded. "I sometimes wonder if I was given up deliberately."
Bebur shrugged. "Only Directorate K would know that. I never had access to their plans."
"I don't suppose it matters now anyway."
June 1991, Edinburgh: When Karen walked into the bar on the Upper Bow in the middle of Edinburgh's old town, Philip got up to greet her. He had already found a table. She went over and he gave him a big hug.
"Lovely to see you Karen. So glad you could make it."
"It's nice to see you Philip. Let me get you a drink. I still owe you for helping me pack up when we left London."
"That was a while ago."
"I don't forget my debts. What'll it be?"
"A gin and tonic please. We are eating aren't we?"
Karen nodded. She caught the waiter's eye and ordered two gin and tonics.
"How are the girls?" asked Philip.
"Happy at home with grandma. So what are you doing up here?"
"Here on business. You know the MI5 Security Liaison Officer has a lovely office in Edinburgh Castle?"
"So he'll be safe when the Scots rebel." She frowned. "The secret service stuff reminds me of my old life in London. Not happy memories."
"Sorry to bring it all back. But you're ok?"
"I'm happy. I have a boyfriend. He's an actuary. He has an apartment in Nice."<
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Philip smiled. "Very nice."
"Aye, I've fallen on my feet. The girls call him daddy. I don't know if that's right or wrong. Anyway on the phone, you said you were going abroad?"
Philip nodded and sipped his drink. "Going to the Washington Embassy as Counsellor."
"Will you be boss of your lot there? Head of Station or something?"
"You know I can't say!"
"I remember. You sound very high powered anyway. I remember Joe telling me he thought you were tipped for the top."
"Very kind of him. How is he and his wife?"
"They're well. We're going to stay with them in August in Ottawa. Me and Brian and the girls. I've always kept in touch. Angie was like the sister I never had."
They ordered food. When it came they spoke of little things like the weather and Philip's wife's cat and the ordeal it would face in quarantine. Afterwards they had another bottle of wine.
"Dare I ask about John?" said Philip.
"Of course. I think he's ok. He's teaching English at the University in Moscow. He was probably always best suited for the life of an academic. And of course he loves languages. I heard he was learning Georgian."
"That's hard."
"His friend Bebur is Georgian."
Philip nodded. "I know Bebur."
"Old enemies, I guess."
"Not really. There was a mutual respect. All that's over now of course the Soviet Union's gone. John will never be allowed back you know. Or if he is he'll be arrested and serve the rest of his life in prison."
"I know he won't come back. He writes letters to the girls but I don't read them out. They can't remember him. When they're older they can decide for themselves how much they want to do with him."
"He always struck me as a devoted father."
Karen said coldly. "Me too. Just goes to show how wrong you can be."
"For my part I was fond of him," said Philip. "I actually owe him a great deal."