Tom duly arrived at the Peters’ home in Putney, showed his credentials and greeted Victor and Shona warmly. He declined the offer of a drink or a cup of tea and began by apologising for encouraging Marina to go away for a few weeks.
“It is very important for us to keep her away from the press or any other outside influences while we work on this case against the Russian, so we were very happy when she said she has found a friend to visit in Canada. In fact, she is already on the way today. But please do not tell anyone where she has gone,” he insisted.
“Canada?” replied a surprised Victor and Shona gave a gasp. “We didn’t know she was in touch with a friend there, did we Shona?”
“Not that I can remember,” she said. “This seems very sudden but we are getting a lot of surprises these days”.
Victor added: “Yes, we are not sure what is going on and as it happens, I’ve had several press people calling up and asking where she is. And then a man from the Russian embassy came here just this morning asking the same question, but I could not tell them any details, anyway, because I didn’t know.”
“So what else did the Russian want – and do you know who he is?”
“Not really. He gave me a phone number to call and said ask for Jack.”
“Well, I work with MI5 as it happens, and I imagine you know what that is?” Tom continued, and Victor nodded. “Well, we are carrying out an important inquiry into whether this Russian navy man is actually a secret agent and whether he tricked Marina into a relationship to try to get information from her – you know she was doing confidential work for the Navy in Portsmouth, of course? And your family background and Russian connections make this of real concern to us.”
“I don’t think you have any worries on that account,” said Victor. “My parents and now my brother and I are very grateful for the way we have been able to live our lives in Britain, and we feel very British. In fact, it seemed to me to be a sort of acceptance of this when Marina was taken on by the Royal Navy. We are very proud of that.”
“Thank you for that assurance, Mr. Peters. We also know that there are a couple of thousand Russian emigres in London and that the intelligence service at the Russian embassy relies on quite a few of them as informants of one sort or another. We have to keep a close eye on them, and we are aware that you and your brother are known to the embassy and appear on their files, but so far as I know, your family is not under any sort of suspicion. This situation with your daughter is the first time that your names have been highlighted, but we still have to take it seriously. Did your visitor today say anything else?”
“He suggested in a roundabout way that I could possibly be of help to him – perhaps by passing on any information I might get from Marina – and I didn’t like the sound of that. After he left, I chatted to my brother Andrew and we agreed that we did not want anything to do with him. If I hear from him again, I will tell him just that, unless you think it could put Marina in any sort of danger?”
“Don’t worry about that – we will take good care of Marina. Have you had any other contacts with the Russian embassy?”
“Not really,” replied Victor. “My wife and I went to a reception at the embassy earlier this year, and it seemed that they like to stay in touch with people such as my brother and me who are in business here – just a social thing, that’s all.”
Shona then asked, “Is Marina quite safe, Mr. Spencer? Is she in any sort of trouble? This all sounds very worrying.”
“No, no,” said Tom. “You can rely on our team to make sure this all works out. She is helping us in many ways, and we are discovering that your daughter is a bright and intelligent lady; we are all very impressed by her.”
Victor and Shona appreciated this, and Tom then changed the subject. They all relaxed as they chatted about the Peters’ successful business, and he admired their lovely home and their choice of Putney, near the river, for their retirement years.
“Well, it was good to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Peters,” said Tom, getting up to leave. “Let me know if you hear anything further from this Jack fellow, and I will let you know how Marina is getting on. I assure you that she is not in any sort of trouble. It is just that she will be our key witness when the Russian comes to trial as a spy, so she is very important to us.”
He left, and a couple of minutes later, the doorbell rang again. This time, it was a man who introduced himself as a reporter from the Daily Star, who apologised for intruding and asked, “Was that another reporter who just left here?”
“No, no,” said Victor. “It was a friend, and I really don’t want to talk to the press any more. You are the third today.”
The reporter was persistent and insisted that he just wanted to check a few facts if Victor could spare him a few minutes. Victor reluctantly invited him into the house. He explained that after the brief court appearance by the Russian, his editor wanted him to discover more background details about Marina and her family. Victor could not resist and began to describe how his parents had emigrated from Russia in the 1930s to search for a better life in England; how they had been helped at first by other Russians living in East London; how they had started their own business; how they had become British citizens in 1945; and how their two sons had then expanded their small shop in South London into the Peters Brothers business which now supplied fabrics to some of the best couturiers and designers in London.
The reporter began to warm to this story, with the Russian family angle fitting well as a follow up to the story of the forthcoming trial appearance of Nikolai Aldanov. For his questions about Marina, he found Victor to be more reluctant to answer. He quickly suspected that the police or MI5 had told him not to pass on any information and asked, “Is Marina in custody? Has she been charged with anything?”
“I really can’t tell you anything more,” said Victor. “As far as I know, she is the main witness in the case they are bringing against the Russian, and they don’t want her to talk about it before the trial. I spoke to her earlier today, and she is fine, and I think she is going away to stay with a friend for a few days.”
“Any idea where she is?”
“No, she thought it would be better if I didn’t know, so that’s all I can say today.”
They said their farewells, and the reporter drove off, quite happy with the story he had now gleaned about Marina’s family links with Russia. This would become another exclusive feature for the Daily Star the next day.
21.
IT’S DISNEYWORLD
Marina’s flight landed in sunny Florida in the late afternoon, local time. She had been able to unwind a little at last and enjoy the business class service – but she cautiously limited herself to just one glass of white wine. During the eight-hour flight, she managed to get some sleep as well as watching a movie in a futile attempt to calm her anxieties about what lay ahead. She had no real idea about what to expect next as she walked down the ramp with the rest of the passengers and into the international arrivals area of the terminal. All the signs around the building were welcoming her to the World of Disney, reminding her that she had arrived in the land of Mickey Mouse. Her new passport and immigration documents were checked without question. With only carry-on luggage, she was quickly through the customs formalities and wondered what welcome awaited Mary McMasters.
She did not have long to wait. As she emerged through the doors into the arrivals hall, she spotted a large card bearing her new name. There were two men waiting for her. One of them was ready to take her luggage and was somewhat surprised to find she did not have any – just her carry-on bag. They introduced themselves as Joe and Don and led her to a waiting car, a large SUV with blackened rear windows, parked right at the door of the terminal building, with the driver poised to open the trunk and car door. There was no requirement for luggage in the trunk, so they climbed in, with Joe accompanying her in the back seats.
“How was the flight, Miss McMasters?” he asked as they drove off.
“Just fine
, thanks,” replied Marina, adjusting to her new name. “Thank you for meeting me. Can you tell me where we are going now?”
“OK,” replied Joe. “Here’s the plan. We are taking you to the Ritz Carlton hotel in town, about a 30-minute drive, and we will introduce you to one of our Deputy Directors who will be waiting there – she’s Sally-Ann Waters, and she will be taking care of you during your visit. I will also stick around for a while in case there is anything you need. I am calling her now to give her our ETA.”
As they drove, Marina was overwhelmed by the huge signboards and neon displays along the highway, advertising all the attractions of the Disney empire. It was certainly another world she had just stepped into. When they arrived, the hotel entrance and reception area were also mind-blowing, with their bright lights and luxurious décor. Joe took her through to a relatively quiet bar area to meet Sally-Ann.
“It’s so good to see you, Mary,” she said with outstretched arms. “Welcome to the Colonies. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re looking great, but I guess you’re a bit tired after that long flight.”
Somehow, Sally-Ann was exactly what Marina had expected from her limited knowledge of American businesswomen in films and on TV – slim, smart, blonde and confident. Then, with a crisp and clear accent, she asked Joe: “Where’s Ms. McMasters’ luggage? Take it to her room.”
“This is it,” replied Marina, pointing to her carry-on. “I left in such a hurry this morning that I only have my overnight bag. I was told to buy everything I need when I get here.”
“OK, we can handle that,” said a rather surprised Sally-Ann. “Joe, go and get Ms. McMasters checked in and bring back her room key.” Then turning to Marina, she continued: “Let’s have a quick chat here, then maybe you would prefer to get to your room and order something to eat from room service before catching up on some sleep. We have a nice programme worked out for you over the next two or three weeks – nothing too strenuous, so don’t worry – and we can go over it tomorrow morning at the office. There are some decent shops here in the hotel where you can probably find anything you need, either tonight or tomorrow.”
“This all sounds wonderful,” said Marina. “What do I need in the way of clothes? How warm is it here, and will I need office-type things or is it more casual?”
“We are not too formal in the CIA,” said Sally-Ann. “Tee-shirts and pants are normal for most of us, and you may need a light sweater or jacket in the air-conditioning. Outside, it is pretty warm by your standards – maybe around 25 degrees during the day.”
“Did you just say the CIA?” interrupted Marina. “I recognise that name. I didn’t realise that I was going to be looked after by the CIA – that sounds a bit serious. Is this all very hush-hush?”
“Don’t worry, Mary – it is just that we are the American cousins of the folk who you were working with in the UK.”
“OK, I think I understand. What will be happening next?”
“Joe will come by at around 8.30 in the morning, and he’ll drive you to our offices to meet everyone and to go through your programme. Then everything will be clear, I hope. We’ve had a full briefing from your folks in London, so we know what is going on there and what your needs are. There’s nothing to worry about. Here’s Joe now with your room details – sleep well and see you tomorrow.”
Joe took Marina with her overnight bag to the lift, handed over her key, told her to go to the 8th floor and find room 808 – “and see you tomorrow.”
The room was not difficult to find, but Marina was wide-eyed as she entered it. It was spacious and luxurious, with a huge king-size bed and a bathroom twice the size of any she had ever seen. All the facilities were new and shiny, the furnishings were modern, with a 3-seater settee in front of an enormous TV, a fully-stocked minibar and a small kitchenette with all the necessaries for making hot drinks. It was almost too much to take in.
It was still only 6 pm in Orlando, but it had been a long day, and Marina decided that any shopping could wait for the morning when she would probably be awake early, anyway.
She took a look at the room service menu and picked up the phone. “Good evening Miss McMasters,” came the instant reply. “Welcome to the Ritz Carlton. How can I help you?” She ordered a club sandwich, was persuaded to add a portion of “fries” and chose an ice cream dessert to follow. Within ten minutes, there was a knock at the door, and the tray was brought in and laid carefully on the table at the window, with the bright lights of Orlando spread out beyond.
This is the life, thought Marina!
Next morning, after a good sleep, jet-lag meant that she was wide awake by 5 am. After making a cup of tea and relaxing with the TV news for a while, she decided it was time to go in search of breakfast. After taking the lift to the reception area, she first discovered the parade of shops, including two with women’s wear, that indicated that they would be open at 8 am. Then she found the breakfast buffet with its range of familiar and less familiar choices. After a selection of fruit and yogurt, she went back again to try the Belgian waffles with strawberries and maple syrup. It was all so tempting, but there were also new clothes to try on shortly.
She was the first customer in the shop, and she explained that her luggage had been lost somewhere en route from the UK and she needed a couple of new outfits for some business meetings. A very helpful assistant brought out several options to choose from and Marina soon found two which suited very well, together with the necessary accessories. Her new credit card worked, and she then found a small suitcase in a neighbouring shop, reasonably priced, which she might also need, and she returned to her room to get dressed for “work”.
She was just about ready when the phone rang. It was Joe calling from reception to say that he was ready to go, and he added, “Bring your bags down with you because we’ll be checking you out before we move on to the next stage. Is that OK?”
Marina tried hard not to sound too disappointed to be leaving her luxury room so soon; she did as she was asked as quickly as possible and then went down to meet Joe. He had already dealt with the check-out desk and signing for her room – and Marina realised she had no idea what such luxury had cost the CIA! Then, taking her new luggage, he led her out to the waiting car. Marina wondered anxiously, and not for the first time, “What next?”
The car soon left the city streets and headed past a series of hoardings attracting traffic to the various Disney locations before reaching the residential suburbs and then a less developed area with fruit farms and eventually a gated entrance with the sign reading “United States Government: Camp Orchard”.
After being checked briefly by the security guards, they drove another half mile through what appeared to be apple orchards to reach a large building in traditional plantation house style, with white columns either side of the elegant porch and steps. At the door, they were met by Sally-Ann Waters, who greeted “Mary” warmly with a welcome to Camp Orchard. It all seemed surprisingly relaxed and friendly.
“Would you take Miss McMasters’ luggage to Block C?” she instructed Joe, briskly. “She will be in room two and bring the key back to me in the conference room.”
Sally-Ann then described some of the features of the house to her visitor as they walked through the elegant hallway and corridors to reach a room which immediately looked more formal and business-like, with its conference table and chairs plus a range of electronic equipment and computer screens. There were two men waiting there who were introduced as the Director of Camp Orchard, Charles Rooney, and the Head of Research, Robert Chilton – both looking relaxed in jeans, cowboy boots and button-down shirts.
“Hi, Mary,” said the Director. “Call me Chuck. It’s great to have you here. We’ve had a full briefing from London, so we know all about you, and we don’t need to go into all that anymore. We just want you to enjoy your time with us and make a few new friends – and maybe learn a few useful things, as well. You’ve already met Sally-Ann, of course, and she will stay in contact with you for anyt
hing you might need to know. Bob, here, is in charge of the group you will be joining later. Any questions, Mary?”
“Nothing I can think of now,” replied Marina. The Director said, “Good luck,” and left the room. Joe arrived with the room key, which Sally-Ann handed over with a brief “see you later”, and she departed, as well.
“Right, Mary,” said Robert Chilton, without wasting any time. “We’ve got a small group of six new agents in training here – two gals and four guys – and they started just yesterday on a four-week language course in basic Russian. We’ll join them a bit later. They’re a good bunch, five American ex-servicemen and one from Canada, and they’ve done nearly six months with the department, covering a variety of training courses here and overseas. They are all destined to join our Russian section in DC very soon and need to have an understanding of the language, like you. Do you have any Russian yourself?”
“Not really,” she replied. “My family came from Russia two generations ago, and they have all become pretty well anglicised. I suppose I‘ve picked up a few words here and there but nothing that would be useful.”
“We use a mixture of methods here, Mary, starting with some basic classroom sessions to learn about grammar and reading and pronunciation. Then you will go on to the language laboratory where there will be sessions of conversation with recordings and playback until you find yourself feeling quite familiar with hearing and understanding the Russian voice. Then, by the third week, we will have the entire group talking nothing but Russian to each other – you will be surprised how quickly it catches on. You’ll be dreaming in Russian before you know it. The final stage is to have you all reading and understanding documents in Russian. How does that sound?”
“Pretty terrifying, but I suppose it works.”
“OK, then let’s go to meet the group and the instructor in charge.”
The Russian Lieutenant Page 11