Faithless (44 page)

             
"No, I think you're very sexy. You've got lovely eyes."

             
She laughed. "But?"

             
"I'm in love."

             
"You didn't say 'I'm married.'"

             
He looked disappointed in himself. "I'm a cunt I told you. A fucking lying deceiving cunt."

             
She reached up and stroked his hair. "You're very handsome though."

             
"I've got a black soul."

             
"Melodramatic."

             
"I'm a Russian in Ireland. That's a lot of potential for melodrama."

             
"You're not Russian."

             
He laughed. "I forgot."

             
She kissed him on the cheek. "Well, you don't know what you've turned down. But I admire you for it. Most men would gone with their base instincts. You must really be in love."

             
"Sorry. You are so beautiful though. I mean it."

             
"Thank you.  Here." She reached into her handbag and pulled out a diary. She tore out a page and scrawled her name and address on it. "In case you ever need a penpal." She reached up and gave him another chaste kiss. Then she turned and walked off. She waved as she went and she shouted, "Remember, she won't leave him."

             
He watched her go and when she was out of earshot called after her. "I'm not really  Richard." Then he turned and entered the hotel.

John got up around 9:30 am. He showered with the sachet of shampoo provided and dried himself on rough white towel. He couldn't face breakfast, but made himself a cup of tea in his room from a teabag and a plastic pot of pasteurised milk. He poured the water from the individual sized kettle that mercifully took only a short time to boil. Outside it was still raining; it streaked the window and gave him something to watch. The sky was grey as death. He pulled the bed straight and,realising he still had time, he lay down on it and closed his eyes in an attempt to soothe his hangover. He must have fallen asleep again and was woken by a soft rap on his door. He opened it and saw Bebur Gelashvili standing there, casually dressed as if he were a tourist.

             
He stood up and the two men hugged Russian style.  "This room smells of alcohol," said Bebur.

             
"Last night I went out for a drink. I had nothing else to do."

             
"I hope you were careful."

             
John nodded. "I was. No tail."

             
Bebur motioned for John to sit on the bed. He went over and pulled out the chair by the spartan dressing table.  John sat. Bebur reached into the satchel he was carrying then he sat down. He pulled out a brown envelope and handed it to John.

             
"What's this?"

             
"Take it."

             
John took the envelope reluctantly. He could feel the wad of cash in it.

             
"It's Deutschmarks."

             
John shook his head and handed the money back to Gelashvili, who didn't take it.

             
"I don't want it Bebur."

             
"I know. But I want you to have something for emergencies. Keep it somewhere."

             
"It makes me feel dirty." He placed the envelope away from himself on the bed.

             
"Get a deposit box. Keep it somewhere safe. We appreciate what you do."

             
"But remember I don't do this for money."

             
Gelashvili smiled. "I know. Do you want me to make you coffee?"

             
John nodded. "I've just had a tea. You have one." Bebur filled the kettle. John said, "How have you come here? Surely not under your real identity?"

             
Gelashvili laughed. "I admire your curiosity but you don't need to know that. I'm here. That's enough. London is too dangerous."

             
John looked grave. "I needed to see you urgently face to face. Vinogradov told us the KGB has a source inside British Intelligence. They will start investigating all of us in K3."

             
Bebur made the coffee without commenting. He took a sip himself and winced. "Too hot!" He sat back down on the hotel seat. "Tell me what he said?"

             
John related what Vinogradov had told him in the safe house. Bebur listened intently then he said, "I have some news for you. "

             
John looked at him. "Sounds bad. What?"

             
"Vinogradov has defected."

             
"What? I thought he was your dangle? I thought you'd known him and trusted him forever?"

             
Bebur shrugged. "I guess I didn't know him so well. The thought of a life in the West was too tempting."

             
"When?"

             
"Yesterday. To the Americans."

             
John stood up. He ran his hands through his hair. "To the fucking Americans? Jesus Christ what does he know?"

             
"He doesn't know about you."

             
"How can you be so sure? He knows there's a KGB source in London."

             
"Because only the head of the KR line in London, myself and people in Directorate K back at Yasenevo know your identity."

             
"So who is this source?"

             
"Fantasy. He's made it up to make him more attractive - more valuable."

             
John went and looked out of the window. "I'm feeling very exposed."

             
"I know. You must understand that my priority is to keep you safe."

             
"What about Vinogradov's family?"

             
"His son Alyosha is at school in Moscow. His wife will be flown back to Moscow today."

             
"So much for his insistence that they be got out."

             
"Enough about Vinogradov. Please take my assurance that you are safe."

             
"I believe that you believe that I'm safe. I've always trusted you. But what about the others? Maybe SIS or the CIA have a source in Directorate K."

             
Bebur shook his head. "I doubt this. Tell me what MI5 are doing to locate the source? "

             
"Pretty ham fisted. They fed us information about Czech car beacons. Sue O'Hanlon made a special point of telling me."

             
Bebur took a sip of his now cooler coffee. "It sounds fake."

             
"That's what I thought. She also made a point of telling my colleague Ailsa the same thing."

             
"Ailsa McInnes - previously Second Secretary Moscow. Identified as SIS by the Second Chief Directorate while she was there."

             
John nodded. "It sounds fake doesn't it?" he repeated. "We think that they are trying to feed us marked information."

             
"We?"

             
"Ailsa and myself."

             
Bebur frowned. "I don't think you should be discussing this with anyone but me. I hope you're careful."

             
"I haven't told her anything. She mentioned Sue's conversation to me as being odd. It's her theory about the tainted information."

             
Bebur looked at him, still cautious. "I must counsel you John -  your liberty is at stake."

             
"But what could I say when she brought it up?"

             
Bebur nodded. "I understand. But in future, you do not talk about this."

             
"Our guess was that they are working their way through all the K3 officers. I don't think they've got any special line on me. What do you think?"

             
"They are being systematic. It's what we would do."

             
"If they're onto me, how long can I stay?"

             
"They have nothing on you."

             
"But I think I should go quiet for a while. Unless anything extraordinary crops up."

             
"Agreed. But now I want to talk to you about the exfiltration plan."

             
John smiled. "So you think it'll be soon."

             
"I am merely being thorough." He smiled. "So, this is what you should do. You travel north, not south. They will expect you to go for France. But you will travel to Newcastle. There you will catch the ferry to Kristiansand in Norway. We have papers for you in the name of Joseph Boyd, a salesman of gambling machines. You know," he mimed, "with the arm you pull down to start?"

             
"Fruit machines."

             
"If you catch the Tube train to Amersham. You will walk from along Station Road to a small roundabout. It is marked on the map. There is a plastic rubbish bin attached to a lampstand. To the left of this is a small wall with trees behind. There is a loose brick. Remove the brick and inside is a passport, a UK driving licence and money in pounds sterling -  sufficient for you to hire a car. This is understood?"

             
John nodded.

             
"From the ferry in Kristiansand, you will then catch a train to Oslo. You will ring the Soviet Embassy and say you are selling maps. I thought this detail would help you remember.  One of our officers will meet you with different identity papers. You will use these to hire a car and drive north to the small town of Kirkenes near the Soviet Border. There our Special Forces will take you across."

             
"It's complicated."

             
"It is safe. Leave the papers where they are in the wall until you need them. Do not bring them home."

             
"I'm not a fool."

             
"No you are not. You will be given the Order of Lenin for your work against our enemies."

             
"I don't need a medal. Your enemies are my enemies." John looked grey. His nerves were ragged from the alcohol. " But what about my children? " he said.

             
Bebur put down his coffee cup on the dressing table. "Originally I had an exfiltration plan. But now we will trade them for Vinogradov's children and wife. It is simpler."

             
"My children and wife for his."

             
"Yes."

             
John said, "My plane back to London is in two hours."

             
"We are complete here I think?" said Bebur.

             
John nodded. "So you aren't going to use the tainted information?"

             
"To tell the Czechs? No." Bebur shook his head. He got up and hugged John again. "Goodbye comrade. I do not know if I would be brave enough to do what you do."

             
John returned the hug with affection. "You keep well my friend. I'm counting on you."

             
"You can trust me John. You have my word."

Ailsa got the Tube to Woodside Park and followed her A-Z tentatively to John's address. She knocked on the door and stood there nervously. She had a Hamleys carrier bag under her arm. There was no answer though she could hear music from inside. She knocked again and thought that if there was no answer this time she would go away. The music stopped and the dark red door opened. Karen stood there in sweat pants and a Blondie t-shirt. She looked puzzled at first.

             
"Hello Karen," said Ailsa.

             
"Hi," said Karen, searching for her visitor's name in the recesses of her memory.

             
"It's Ailsa. I work with John."

             
"He's not in. He's away with work."

             
"Really, I thought he was on leave today."