Debut for a Spy (8 page)

“
I couldn't let you go without saying good night,” I said, holding her close. “When will I see you?”

She handed me a slip of paper with a telephone number on it.

“Please, you call me.”

“
Is it safe? Are your calls monitored?”

She smiled.
“There is no problem. Play the game we talk about today, and everybody believes us. I must go now.”

She walked to the stairs leading out of the museum, then turned to me.

“
Do
svidania
, David Baird,” she said softly, and then she was gone.

*

Driving home later, my mind was full of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Only two days before I had not given the Soviet Union more than a passing thought, and now I was entangled with them like the twists of a bramble bush. I felt very confused. Turning on the radio, I sought the soothing distraction of music, but nothing seemed to penetrate my fog. Even Mozart has his limitations.

I parked the car, waved at the night porter as I passed, and took the lift up. Stepping into my flat, I had a sense of foreboding. Something was not right. Not again, I thought, remembering my visitor of the day before. A night light was on in the hall, and I could see that Kate's door was open. Invariably when she was in her own flat the door was closed. What was wrong? I snapped on some lights, walked into the living room, and started as I saw her in a corner on the floor, sitting with her arms around her legs, rocking back and forth.

“Kate, what's the matter? What's happened?” I ran to her.

She appeared to come to, as if in a trance.

“David,” she said wildly, “they're… gone!”

She was racked with a fit of sobbing. I reached for her and held her, afraid to ask the next question.

“Who's gone, Kate?”

She choked on each word.
“The plane… Mom… Dad… everything! No… survivors! They're… they're… both… dead!”

Her keening was the sound of an animal in pain.

CHAPTER SIX

Paris
,
France
–
Thursday
,
June
14
,
1962

It was after midnight, but his instructions had been to report immediately on his return to Paris. He dialed the special number, let it ring once, hung up, then dialed again.

“
Yes?” The query was in French. He responded in kind.

“
It went as planned. There were no problems.”

“
So we have heard. Well done. The baggage handler has been taken. Does he know anything?”

“
Not even where I come from, and names were not used.”

“
Good. Your honorarium will arrive in the usual manner, plus a generous bonus. You are ready for the next assignment?”

“
Yes. I will begin tomorrow.”

“
You understand there must be no warning to the courier?”

“
Leave this to me. I am no amateur who plays at these games.”

He put the receiver down before there was a further exchange. Arrogant bastards, he thought. Dismissing them, he prepared to go out. He needed sexual gratification, and where better to find it than on the streets of Paris? He trembled when he thought of how it might end.

*

London
,
England
–
the
same
night

I held Kate for nearly half an hour before she fell into a fitful sleep. As desperate as I was to find out what had happened, I realized that there was no point in trying to talk to her. It was obvious she had been given a sedative, and this, coupled with her grief, had made her delirious. Eventually I carried her to her room and tucked her in as well as I could. I sat by the bed for a few minutes until I was sure she had settled, then left quietly.

Too agitated to sleep, I made a cup of tea and sat down in the living room, idly fingering the pieces on my chess board as my mind churned. Who could I call at this hour, I wondered, who would be able to tell me what had happened? A newspaper
– of course! I headed for the phone, absentmindedly carrying a pawn with me, setting it down on the phone stand to look up the number of the Observer. I was connected to the newsroom and explained what I wanted.

“
We have very little on that crash as yet, sir. The authorities are not releasing much.”

“What airline was it?”

“
A small charter line called Straitsair. It flies cargo and passengers around the western Mediterranean – some of the islands and Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia and Gibraltar.”

“
Where did the plane go down?”

“
We're not sure. We found out from the control tower in Gibraltar that the flight plan filed was between Gib and Dar-el-Beida airport in Algiers, which is about five hundred miles. The aircraft was a Fokker F27, which has a range of more than double that distance, and it carried a full load of fuel.

“
Forty-two minutes into the flight Gibraltar tower lost all voice communication with Flight SA23, and it disappeared from the radar screen. We've tried every which-way, and that's all we can get out of anybody. We don't know whether there has been an air-sea search, we don't know if there was a visual sighting of what happened from ships or other aircraft, and we can't get anyone to talk to us. It's as if an official silence has been drawn over the whole thing, and we don't know why.”

“
What time did it happen?”

“
Flight SA23 departed Gibraltar at 1422 hours GMT, and all contact was lost at 1504 hours. I'm sorry I can't tell you more.”

“
Not at all – you've given me far more than I started with. Thank you for your time and your help.”

I rang off and just stood there in neutral. There seemed to be nothing I could do to find out more or to help Kate. I wondered about the veil of silence which the journalist had alluded to. Why would they be trying to hide what had happened? I was about to walk back to the living room when the phone rang, startling me.

“Lords 0-5-8-2,” I answered.

“
David Baird?”

“
Yes.”

“
This is Barbara Vandenberg. I must apologize for calling at this hour, but I was so worried about Kate I had to. How is she?”

Barbara Vandenburg was the wife of the American Ambassador to the Court of St. James.

“She's asleep now, Mrs. Vandenburg, but she seemed pretty much out of it when I got home about an hour ago.”

“
When Dwight called me and told me about the Fletchers I went straight over to the Royal Academy to get her. We had her with us at the residence until she insisted on going home about 9:00pm. The embassy doctor gave her a sedative, and I hoped she would fall asleep, but she didn't want to stay here. I've been worrying that I should have insisted.”

“
Do you know what happened, Mrs. Vandenberg? I only have a sketchy account from the Observer.”

She told me what she knew but I'd gotten more from the paper.

“Why does there seem to be a blackout on the details surrounding the disaster, Mrs. Vandenberg? Has the Ambassador commented on it?”

“
David, I don't know anything. I'm just a private citizen like anybody else, and I think I prefer it that way. If Kate needs anything tomorrow, or if I can help in any way, please call the residence and I'll do everything I can. We knew the Fletchers well, and Kate was very special to them, and to us. I feel sick about this.” She sighed deeply.

“
I'll tell her you called, Mrs. Vandenberg, and I'll certainly get in touch if Kate needs anything. Good night.”

Curious, I thought, as I hung up. Cal Fletcher must have been pretty high up on the totem pole to warrant all this attention at the ambassadorial level. I had thought he was just another civil servant doing his routine job, but I was beginning to see it in a different light. I doubted if Kate knew the details of her father's job, and certainly the American Embassy wasn't going to tell me, but I might just know someone who could fill in the blanks. After all, the flight originated from British territory.

I was still holding the pawn, and as I walked over to put it back a light went on in my head. Holy shit! I knew what some of the words were that Nalishkin had said on the phone! In fact, I had them in the palm of my hand. The sooner I talked to Hammond the better.

I went to bed, but sleep eluded me. My mind whirled in confusion as I dozed fitfully, awakening every few minutes in a panic. When the door of my bedroom opened and a white-shrouded apparition stood there I thought I had lost all sense of what was real and what was imagined, and for a moment I was terrified.

But it was only Kate in her nightdress. Her voice had a dream-like quality, and I wasn't sure that she was really awake.

“
David, I'm sorry, but I can't be alone, and I'm so cold. May I stay with you?”

It wasn't cold in the flat, but she was obviously suffering from shock. I hesitated for a split second, but this was no time for stuffy decorum.

“Sure, Kate. Come here.” I pulled the covers back. “Can I get you anything?”

“
A drink of water, please. I'm very thirsty.”

I got it from the fridge and she drank greedily, then I lay down on top of the covers and we settled as I put out the light.

“I used to come to Mom and Dad's bed when I was little, and we would all cuddle together. I love them so much, David. When I got older we'd still have family meetings on their bed either late at night or in the morning, and if I had a problem that's where it got sorted out. I'm going to miss that. This was their room, and I just had to come tonight. Will you hold me, please?”

I put my arm around her, and she snuggled up, and not another word was spoken by either of us. The sedative must still have been working, for she was soon fast asleep, and even though I remained wide awake we stayed like that until morning.

*

Just after 7:00am I eased my arm from around Kate and got up. She looked as if she would be asleep for quite a long time, and I had some burning matters to attend to. I showered and shaved while the coffee brewed, and sat with a cup while I planned what to do in logical sequence. I didn't want to leave Kate alone, so I decided to call one of her student friends from the Royal Academy to spend the day with her, or at least until I could get back. While I pondered, there was a quiet tap at the door.

I approached it a bit apprehensively – too many strange things were happening. Looking through the spy-hole I saw a well-dressed middle-aged lady flanked by two cynical faces in suits, and I opened the door.

“
Good morning, Mrs. Vandenberg. Please come in.”

“
Good morning, David. How did you know who I was?”

“
You're wearing Fifth Avenue, not Mayfair, and in view of what's happened I figured you'd be the only American lady knocking on my door at 7:45am surrounded by the CIA.”

“
They're not CIA, they're Secret Service, but otherwise you're right on.”

She smiled for a moment, and then the concerned look reappeared.

“Is Kate awake? What kind of night did she have?”

I walked them through to the living room.

“She's not awake yet, and she had a pretty restless night. I don't expect she'll be up for awhile.”

“
Do you mind if we wait? I knew Kate's mother well, and the least I can do is be here for her if she needs me. And I'm sure you must have things to do.”

“
I appreciate your coming, and yes, I have a couple of things I must do, but I wouldn't have left her alone.”

“
We'll probably be at the residence or the embassy. If Kate is up to it there are going to be some formalities which must be attended to. You can call her if you want to talk to her later.”

“
Mrs. Vandenberg… Barbara… Kate is in my bedroom. She couldn't be alone last night.”

“
David,” she said softly, “I'm just glad she has someone to be with, especially at a time like this.” It was a wan smile.

I told them to make themselves at home, have coffee if they wished, and left the building.

Getting the Jag, I drove down Edgeware Road to Marble Arch and parked on a side street, then walked a few feet on Oxford Street and went into the Cumberland Hotel. I wanted to use the phone in a fairly public place where I wouldn't stand out.

I went through the routine, and this time was met with Highland Whiskey Exporters. When I passed my last hurdle I half expected to be told that Colonel Hammond was not in yet, but to my surprise he answered personally.

“Good morning, Captain Baird. You're up and about rather early, aren't you?”

“
Yes, sir, I am.”

“
I hope you've got some good news for me, David. The last couple of days have produced an abundance of the other variety. Are you going to be able to help us? I rather think we need it.”

“
I can't give you a direct answer yet, sir. I must see you as soon as possible. I have some information for you, and I think it is very important, but I wouldn't want to talk on an open line. And I also need some information which you may be able to provide. And I'm sorry, sir, but it's all rather urgent.”

There was an imperceptible pause, and then his usually languid manner became very crisp.

“Do you know the Bank of Montreal in Lower Regent Street?”

“
If it's the one in Waterloo Place, then I do.”

“
That's the one. Be there at 0930. Ask the commissionaire on duty for the Foreign Exchange Officer.”

There was a click and he was gone. He didn't mess about.

I had time for some breakfast before heading for the bank, and the Cumberland's was quite good – except for the coffee. No wonder they didn't drink coffee in Britain – they didn't know how to make it. Most places boiled it until it tasted burnt, and then gave you half a cup of this mud topped up with scummy hot milk. I ordered tea instead.

I left the Cumberland just after 9 o'clock. It wasn't far to the bank, but traffic could be a little heavy on Piccadilly and I didn't want to be late.

I went around Eros and his fountain, headed down The Haymarket, and stopped at the bottom before turning right. On my left was Canada House, and it always made me a bit nostalgic to see the huge Canadian Red Ensign hanging over the main entrance. I got lucky with parking along Pall Mall, walking back and around the corner to the Bank of Montreal.

Entering the building I looked about for the blue uniform of the Corps of Commissionaires, located that worthy, and asked him for the Foreign Exchange Officer. He studied me for a moment, then with a nod of his head bade me to follow him. We went through a gate at the side, along a corridor, and down a flight of stairs, stopping at an office with nothing marked on the door. He knocked, a voice I recognized called
“Come!”, and he opened the door.