Curtain of Fear (4 page)

Anxious to get a clearer idea of her, he asked Bilto where he had met her; to which Bilto replied that he had first known her several years before, when she had been married to her first husband, and had fallen in love with her then; but he seemed loath to vouchsafe any further information. He was just starting on another double whisky which, counting the nearly-empty glass that had been on the table when Nicholas joined him, made five in less than two hours. Although he showed no signs of drunkenness, it suddenly struck Nicholas that he was drinking exceptionally heavy, but that might be because he was worrying about the safety of his woman, and was trying to keep his nerves steady during the ordeal of waiting until he learned that she was safely out of Czechoslovakia.

In any case, once having spoken of her, it seemed that she had taken permanent possession of his thoughts, for during the remainder of the meal he was obviously preoccupied and made
little attempt to respond to Nicholas' conversational openings.

They did not have a lengthy meal, so it was only a little after eight when he paid the bill and took Nicholas up to his room. As soon as he had closed the door behind him he asked:

“Nicky; do you still remember enough Czech to speak it?”

“Yes,” Nicholas nodded. “I learnt it just at the right time to retain a fair knowledge of it all my life.”

“Good! Then we had better use that language. In this business of mine we can't be too careful.”

One glance round the room had shown Nicholas that Bilto's things were only half unpacked. As he lowered himself into the single arm chair, he wondered what was coming next. Bilto moved some clothes off the bed, sat down opposite him and breaking into Czech, went on:

“First I would like to have an absolutely definite reassurance about your feelings. I hadn't expected to find you involved with a rich young woman who has reactionary sentiments. Are you quite certain that has made no difference to your outlook?”

“None whatever,” Nicholas declared emphatically.

“So far, so good. Now give me the basis of your political beliefs?”

“I believe that the primary requirement of mankind is lasting peace, as the only condition possible for the development of a World State in which the peoples of all nations will be relieved of the levy now made on their earnings by the capitalist system, and enjoy equally the full benefits of their labour, the produce of the earth, and the inventiveness of man. I believe that the only serious menace to a lasting peace is the attitude of the capitalist governments towards the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and that every possible means should be exploited to bring about the downfall of those governments, so that they may be replaced by governments truly representative of the masses, who will co-operate in uniting the workers of the world in one brotherhood.”

“Excellently put.” Bilto's lean face broke into a smile. “I am
now entirely satisfied about you. I take it, though, that since we last met you have not actually become a Communist Party member?”

“No. I have been approached about it, but thought it wiser to decline.”

“And you were right—at all events for the present. The work you are doing will have every bit as much value if you remain what they now call a ‘fellow traveller', and you will receive just as much credit for it in the long run. It suits my book better, too, as if you were a member of the Party the Special Branch might be keeping tabs on you.”

“I am a member of the ‘Friends of the Russian People' and several Peace organisations; but I have no reason at all to think that the police have ever taken an interest in me.”

“Good. Naturally I don't belong to any of those things. It would be out of the question for anyone employed at Harwell to do so. I don't think there is any definite regulation forbidding it; but it's quite extraordinary how effective the English technique is of putting a stop to things they don't like by merely indicating that they ‘are not done'—anyhow in a closed community like that. In these days, even the suggestion of an interest in the Russian point of view would set all sorts of alarm bells clanging down there. In fact I've never even risked anyone on the station finding me in possession of one of the type of periodicals for which you write. I have bought them on trips into Oxford, read as much as I wanted to of them in the lounges of the hotels in Abingdon on the way back, and left them there for the instruction of anyone who might chance to pick them up. However, that is by the way. We scientists who are working on nuclear projects are now subject to retain regulations, and I am going to break one of them. It is about that I want to talk to you.”

Here it comes at last, thought Nicholas, settling himself a little more deeply in his chair.

Looking him straight in the eyes Bilto went on, “Since Bruno Pontecorvo hopped it during his Italian holiday, all of us have had to sign an undertaking not to attempt to leave the
country without first having obtained permission to do so. I have to go abroad, and I am going without it.”

After a moment's thought, Nicholas said, “If they catch you on the way out it will cost you your job; and you will probably be arrested on some charge connected with the breaking of your undertaking, into the bargain. Is taking such a risk really necessary? Wouldn't it be wiser to apply for permission, and so regularise the trip you have to take?”

“No. You are not making due allowance for the fact that, although on account of the highly-specialised war work I was doing they granted me British citizenship in 1942, I was born a Czech. And before the War broke out the Nazis did their utmost to deprive refugees like myself of the means of earning a living. It is quite on the cards that their Embassy passed information to the British about my Communist activities as a student, and later in Prague. If so, it was probably discounted when the question of my naturalisation was gone into, on the grounds that it had all the hallmarks of a typical piece of malicious Nazi slander; but it would still be on my file. If I applied for permission, I have no doubt that the authorities would be very nice about it. The reply would probably be that owing to pressure of work I could not be spared. But it is a hundred to one that they would turn my application down.”

“Why not anyhow try applying first, and take the law into your own hands only if you meet with a refusal?”

“No; that would be fatal. The security people are nervous as cats now about anyone connected with nuclear projects. From the moment my application went in they would order a special watch to be kept on me. My only chance is to slip out before M.I.5 is tipped off that I'm contemplating going abroad. And anyhow, I cannot possibly delay my departure. That is now out of the question.”

“I see your point,” Nicholas agreed. “And I take it this step is rendered both necessary and urgent on account of the woman you propose to marry. Go ahead, then, and tell me in what way you want me to help you?”

“Thanks,” Bilto nodded. “I felt sure I could count on you;
and my request is quite a simple one which cannot, possibly get you into any trouble. As you have pointed out yourself I may be caught on the way out and find myself under arrest. Anyhow my absence is bound to be discovered soon, and when it is they will start poking into my affairs; so I want you to take charge of my interests here.”

As he spoke he rose to his feet, picked up a brief-case, put it on the dressing-table, opened it and took out a number of papers; then he went on, “I have here a Power of Attorney made out in your name. That will give you the necessary authority to deal with everything. There are shares here worth about two thousand pounds, and a Post-Office Savings Book with a credit of nearly two-fifty. Then there is the log-book of my car; it is a 1950 Morris, and ought to be worth five hundred. My things at Harwell won't fetch much, but add whatever they bring in to the pool. You will appreciate, of course, that I dared not dispose of all my assets myself in case doing so gave rise to suspicions about my intentions; but I want you to sell everything. If I am arrested, use the money to secure me the best legal defence you can get; if not, take five hundred for yourself and distribute the rest in any manner you consider will best serve the cause.”

Nicholas sat bolt upright and stared at him in astonishment. “But … but …” he stammered, “that would be crazy. If I did as you suggest you'd be left without a brass farthing when you get back.”

Bilto gave a very slightly drunken laugh. “You've become mighty slow-witted all of a sudden, Nicky. If they catch me leaving with the papers I'll have on me, it will mean ten years in prison. I wouldn't have any use for money there. I won't need any where I'm going, either. To-night I am being flown to Prague, and I am not coming back!”

For a moment Nicholas said nothing. He was desperately endeavouring to re-orientate his thoughts. To gain a little time he fished out a packet of cigarettes, and lowered his glance from Bilto's while he lit one. He had assumed that Bilto was under the necessity of going to Western Germany in order to ensure the freeing from her entanglement of the woman he proposed to marry, and that he hoped to get back without anyone at Harwell suspecting that he had used his leave to go abroad. It had not even occurred to him that an atomic scientist of his cousin's standing would dare to risk going behind the Iron Curtain; far less, that he had deliberately arranged to do so and meant to stay there.

Taking his silence for agreement, Bilto said, “I have been contemplating this step for some months. With the knowledge I have acquired at Harwell, I feel the time has come when I can be of much more use working on the other side than by just passing on odd bits of information.”

“Bilto.” Nicholas' voice was a trifle thick. “Have you really considered the full implications of what you are about to do? I mean, it is one thing to work for peace and quite another to make the Russians a present of our latest discoveries in the nuclear field.”

A sudden frown creased Bilto's broad forehead. “I don't agree about that; and since you are a convinced Internationalist I am surprised that you should even question the ethics of the step I am about to take. It has always been a principle among scientists that all advances in knowledge should be shared, and it is only this accursed nationalism which has prevented a continuance of that ancient practice in recent times.”

“Yes, you are right about that.”

“Of course I am! If the British and Americans had not with-held
the results of their nuclear experiments from the Russians, and ceased to collaborate with them in many other ways directly the war was won, there would have been no cold war—the cost of which is to-day keeping many millions of wretched people on both sides of the Curtain in a state of semi-starvation—and no likelihood of a third world-wide blood-bath. Instead, the nations would be living in friendship and prosperity, and atomic energy would have been developed solely for its potentialities in saving labour and making life easier for everyone.”

“Again I agree with you. It was such ideas which impelled Alan Nunn May to disclose atomic secrets to the Russians through their Embassy in Canada; and I've always felt that he was fully justified in doing what he did at that time. But remember, on his return to England in 1946 he refused to continue supplying them with information because by then conditions had changed.”

“You mean that by then the leaders of the capitalist nations had already alienated the Soviet Government, and begun to envisage the desirability of planning a war to destroy Communism.”

Nicholas shrugged. “You know well enough which side I am on, but one must be fair; and it would be fairer to say that both sides had become suspicious of the future intentions of the other.”

“Do you suggest that the Soviet Government had begun to plan for a war against the Western powers?”

“Certainly not. From the beginning it has given abundant evidence of its desire for peace, and still continues to do so. Russia has absolutely nothing to gain by war, and everything to lose. She has more territory than any other nation, and in it abundant resources of all the raw materials necessary to her well-being. It is self-evident that her dearest wish must be a continuance of peace, so that she may develop those resources for the benefit of her people instead of having to squander them in what for her could only prove a pointless and probably indecisive war. We all know that her ultimate object is to bring the people of all nations freedom and security as citizens of Workers' Republics modelled on the U.S.S.R., but she does not
need to go to war to achieve that. It will take time, but can be done internally by people like ourselves, and, one hopes, without bloodshed.”

“Of course it can. The spread of education is bound to bring it about. Gradually the thick-headed masses will become conscious of the fact that they are still being exploited for the benefit of an upper class, and that their own interests demand the total elimination of that class by the establishment of proletarian governments. But we are getting away from the point. Do you agree that Russia has done her utmost to bring about a better understanding with the nations of the West by initiating innumerable international conferences, and that their basic object has been to secure a lasting peace?”

“I do.” Nicholas stubbed out his cigarette. “And you can go further than that. These conferences might have proved successful had not the governments of the capitalist countries consistently thrown spanners in the works, and frequently taken steps to prevent the attendance of delegates whose presence would have rendered them truly international.”

Bilto smiled. “We seem to be having a rather one-sided argument. It is clear that we both feel that no blame attaches to Russia for the present deplorable situation, and that as an internationalist, poor old Fuchs was right in doing his best to redress the balance.”