Faithless (46 page)

             
Schrader said, "So, can we begin with a round of introductions for our British guests?"

             
The dark suited men introduced themselves. Some smiled, others retained their gravitas. John and Ailsa introduced themselves.

             
"So nice to see we have both British Security and Intelligence present," said Schrader. "We haven't felt the need to invite the FBI this time." Everyone laughed politely. "And we know that you have been doing a great job of running Mr Vinogradov there in London. I hope there are no hard feelings that he decided to buy into our offer in the end."

             
"None at all," said Ailsa.  "You have the deeper pockets."

             
Schrader smiled professionally. "Good. Then we can proceed. We've been debriefing Mr Vinogradov since his arrival in the US. We thought you might like the opportunity to put questions to him from a British perspective. I understand he had begun to give you some information you were interested in."

             
"Thank you Mr Schrader," said Ailsa. She turned to Vinogradov. "Hello again Volodya. We were particularly interested to follow up the information you gave us about a KGB source in the British intelligence community."

             
Vinogradov nodded. "Of course I said this in London. Sokolenko - KR Line officer told me that there was a source in the British Soviet section."

             
John looked at the Americans around the room trying to read their expressions. Were they enjoying the schadenfreude of the British being penetrated? Was their blood seething at the thoughts they had shared intelligence with a bunch of leaky incompetents? Or were they wondering who the mole was and whether he was sitting in the room? John took a sip of water. He looked to see whether anyone was watching him. But they were all entranced by Ailsa.

             
"Have you managed to find out any more? Which Soviet section - in MI5 or MI6?"

             
Vinogradov looked nervous. "Yes, at your request I asked Sokolenko. I think he became suspicious of me. But he told me."

             
"If he was suspicious of you, why did he tell you Volodya?" said John.

             
Vinogradov gestured impatiently. "I do not know. It is a strange game we play. It has been called a wilderness of mirrors."

             
John noticed weary and knowing looks between the Americans. They recognised the quote.

             
"Angleton in this context, but originally from Eliot's
Gerontion
- 
'In a wilderness of mirrors - what will a spider do?'
" said Ailsa.

             
"Very erudite Mrs McInnes," said Schrader.

             
"Maybe he wanted you to tell us this?" said John. "Because it's not true."

             
"It is possible," shrugged Vinogradov.

             
"It would be in their interests to sow suspicion and discord - especially between us and the CIA."

             
"Yes," said Vinogradov.

             
"But," said Schrader, "and we know how damaging these allegations can be - God knows they crippled us for long enough - But, if you have a KGB source inside your intelligence services you need to burn him out - root and branch. Because if you don't," and he said this with a sweet smile, "we won't be sharing anything with you." He paused as if considering his words. "Us giving you this time with Vinogradov is an invitation to get your house in order."

             
Ailsa smiled. "Understood Mr Schrader. Volodya, you had some more to say?"

             
Vinogradov nodded. "Yes, I did find more out. Sokolenko said that the source was in a joint section with both MI5 and MI6 officers."

             
John exhaled loudly. "I just don't get why he would tell you this. Surely they'd keep a source like this very securely within the KR line. Why would you need to know as a PR line officer?"

             
"The Rezidentura is small in London. We help each other out," said Vinogradov.

             
"I still don't buy it," said John, his irritation becoming obvious. Ailsa gently reached out a restraining hand.

             
"So the source is within K3?" said Ailsa.

             
"I do not know the number of the section," said Vinogradov.

             
"Fair enough. Another question if I may?" She looked at Schrader.

             
"Of course, Mrs McInnes. You've come a long way."

             
"Thank you." She gave a sweet look to Schrader, then turned to Vinogradov. "So, Volodya, I just wanted to ask you about the circumstances surrounding your defection. I don't," she looked at Schrader again, "want to know any sensitive operational details such as how the CIA was carrying out clandestine operations in the capital city of a close ally." She smiled beatifically.

             
"Well," said Vinogradov. "I began to suspect that Sokolenko was watching me. He said something about my son that I had never told him. I thought he was listening to my phone. And one night I was being followed. Not by the British, I expect that. I am sure it was by the KGB driver and another man. I could not see them clearly."

             
"How do you think the Russians began to suspect you?" asked Morello. "How was the tradecraft around your meets with the British?"

             
"It was fine," said Vinogradov. "Good."

             
"So how?" said Ailsa.

             
"I am convinced that their source inside your service betrayed me."

After their meeting they were driven by the CIA to their hotel in Georgetown. After they freshened up they met downstairs and went through a walk through the quaint streets. They found their way into a bar on Wisconsin Avenue. It was still warm but there was Autumn in the air. A waiter came up and they ordered Margaritas. They felt in a holiday mood, as if they'd come on vacation together. Ailsa reached over the table and took his hand. "How are you? You seem a bit flat."

             
He laughed. "No, it's a nice place. It feels like we're miles away from our troubles."

             
The waiter came and asked if they would like to order food. They decided they would and he brought them some menus. Ailsa couldn't decide. The waiter said he could come back but Ailsa told him to take John's order first. He ordered ribs.

             
"And has your wife decided yet?" said the waiter.

             
He was aware that Ailsa had heard but she said nothing. John said, "I'm sure she has - she's had plenty of time. What's it going to be honey?"

             
"I think I'll get the salmon?" said Ailsa with her voice rising towards the end of the sentence.

             
"Very good, ma'am. The salmon is a good choice. Are you on vacation here?"

             
Ailsa shook her head. "On business."

             
"Ah," said the waiter, "lucky that you can come together."

             
Ailsa smiled. "Very lucky. Thank you." When he had gone she said, "It seemed a shame to disabuse him."

             
"It felt nice," said John, "like we were married."

             
A sad smile came to Ailsa's face. Then she changed the subject. "If it isn't you or me who is it?"

             
"The KGB source you mean?"

             
"Of course that's what I mean. Do you think it's fat Michael?"

             
"You're only saying that because he isn't beautiful. You're making the common mistake that beautiful means good and ugly means bad."

             
"Yes," she smiled, "and that's why it can't be you."

             
"Really," he said dryly.

             
"Yep, you're a fucked up beautiful man. But you're not traitor."

             
"If I am fucked up, I've met my match in you."

             
"Touché, mon amour."

The meal came. The same waiter beamed at them, put down their plates and wished
them good appetite.

             
"Do you think he's gay - the waiter?" asked Ailsa.

             
"Well he seems thoughtful and kind, so probably."

             
"Really though - Michael?"

             
John shook his head.

             
She said, "Surely not Giles. He's too stupid."

             
"Why would he spy for the communists? He has nothing to gain. He has money from his family."

             
"True. Philip then?"

             
"Philip has left K3."

             
"But the information could be dated."

             
"I've known Philip for years. Again, what has he got to gain? I don't think it's Philip."

             
"I like Philip. Did you know his father was an MP?" said Ailsa. She took a mouthful of her meal. "This salmon is good. The portions are huge."

             
"It's America. Everything is overabundant, apart from health care. They don't litter the streets, but they'll shoot you on a whim. Especially if you're black or poor."

             
"Don't be ungracious. They've been lovely hosts."

             
"I'm not anti American. I'm a big fan of Tom Paine and their Constitution. I just think they've got their priorities wrong. They're so scared of liberal ideas, you'd think they were a fatal disease. Somebody's got most of the people fooled most of the time."  He put down a rib and licked his fingers, then dipped them in the bowl of lemon water to clean them.

             
She said, "By the way, are you sleeping with me tonight in my room? It's got a lovely double bed."

             
"We're so far away from our real lives we can be lovers." Then he added, "If only for a night."

             
"I'm sorry you're so bitter," she said.

             
"I can't get you out of my head, and you won't come to me, so you have me on a pin." he said.

             
"Like a butterfly."

             
"A cabbage moth."

             
She said, "I hate you to feel trapped."

             
"And only you can set me free." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Hey, let's just pretend we're happy."

             
"So just tonight. Then it's over. If that's what you want."

             
"You know I don't want," he said, "but I don't want to talk about it now. Not tonight. "

             
"Ok," she said.

             
He thought she was going to cry. She held his hand tighter. He changed the subject. "What flavour MP was Philip's dad?"

             
"He was one of those reforming Liberals - ended up with a peerage. I believe his grandfather set up a place for homeless boys in London's East End."

             
"Philip never talks about his background. In fact I've never heard him mention any beliefs."

             
"No," said Ailsa. "I don't think he himself is in the least bit political. Try a piece of this salmon. You'll love it."

9th October, 1985, London:
The FLUENCY committee convened again in Century House.  Once again present was Philip Neilson TCI/3, the elegant patrician gentlemen known as C/SOV, Toby Ewing from MI5's K7 and Sue O'Hanlon from K4. C/SOV smiled graciously at the small group assembled. His attractive, well brought up secretary was there to take the notes.

             
"Welcome again, gentlemen and of course ladies," he indicated Sue and the secretary with a gentle wave of his hands. C/SOV ensured everyone had a tiny cup of  thick, sweet Arabian coffee before he spoke. "The committee is re-convened to see what progress there has been into the report that a British "Soviet" section has been penetrated. I have received a telegram from H/Washington via CIA liaison that the defector Vinogradov, previously our source I should say - filched from us by American lucre...." 

             
Philip sighed, "A man who will betray his country can't be relied upon for loyalty."

             
"...has now confirmed that the KGB agent is within a joint SIS - Security Service section. Therefore narrowing it down to K3."

             
"Just saying," said Philip.

             
"Quite so, Philip," said C/SOV, "but where would we be without them?"  C/SOV allowed a dramatic pause as he examined the sleeve of his immaculate Saville Row charcoal grey pinstripe suit as if seeking an errant thread. Then he looked up, "So what progress from your end Toby?"

             
"We have placed all the current K3 officers on surveillance when resources allow and arranged from telephone interception of their home and work phones. Transcription services provided by SIS's UKX. Surveillance was carried out by our colleagues from the Intelligence Corps."

             
"And?" said Philip

             
"Zilch."

             
"So you think we're barking up the wrong tree?" said Philip

             
"Not saying that. Just nothing so far."

             
"What about the Czech wheeze?" asked Philip.

             
"Ah," said Sue. "At different times I have spoken to all the current K3 officers. You remember we were seeing if that would draw a blank before moving on to K4."

             
"Probably not necessary now," said C/SOV.

             
"Anything turn up?" asked Philip.

             
C/SOV interrupted. "Anyone like a refill?" 

             
Philip took some and Toby. Sue declined. C/SOV filled up the cups before speaking again.

             
"Anything turn up?" asked Philip again. He was used to C/SOV's ways and had developed the ability to chivvy him along without incurring the great man's wrath.

             
"Always so impatient my boy," said C/SOV.

             
"Don't you need to hurry up and feed your camel anyway?" said Philip.

             
" C/SOV laughed at the joke, then said, "I can report in the positive."

             
"So the information got through?"

             
C/SOV nodded. Our source in the Czech StB reports that KGB liaison passed the information which they in turn passed to their station chief in London."

             
Sue smiled. "Yes, my colleagues in K8 reported that the Czechs have taken all their cars off the road and are checking them in their garage. There were no beacons on board of course." She looked pleased with herself.

             
"So the source is in K3?" said Philip. "Currently in K3?"

             
"It seems that way," said C/SOV.

             
"Well," said Toby. "We need to focus on individuals then. We can put each one on heavy surveillance for say a week at first?"

             
"I also think we should ask A1 to put some devices inside their houses," said Sue.

             
"What kind of warrant do you need for that?" asked Philip.

             
"Don't you worry about that." Sue looked at him witheringly. "I'll arrange it."

             
Toby handed a slip of paper to C/SOV. "That's the list of officers in K3. There are six of them."

             
"Where do we start then?" asked C/SOV. "Alphabetically? By age, height or sticking a pin in the paper?"

             
"I think we should start with John Gilroy," said Sue.

             
"Why him?" asked Philip.

             
Sue shrugged. "He doesn't respect authority. Has a bit of a chip on his shoulder. Remember he worked for me in K4."

             
"I remember him telling me that," said Philip.

Sue made her way back to Gower Street. She felt the meeting had gone well and treated herself to a taxi instead of taking the Tube. She was a senior officer in K4 and deserved the odd taxi ride. She knew her immediate boss Stephen liked her and he wouldn't query it.  The journey took longer than by underground because of the traffic. The taxi driver attempted to talk to her but she ignored him. She didn't give him a tip. After taking the lift, she walked into the Long Room and sat at her desk, flicking through her in-tray for items of particular importance. Then an officer from T1 walked through the door. She looked up briefly. She knew him but didn't like him. He stood there and coughed. She let him wait then looked up and brightly said "Yes?"

             
"Sue, hello. Long time no see."

             
"Yes Norman. What brings you all the way from Curzon Street?"

             
"To see you actually."

             
"Ah. Please sit down. I'll have my secretary get you a coffee."

             
Norman sat down. "No that's fine. Just had one with Director K."

             
Sue turned her nose up. "How can I help you Norman?"

             
"Got a bit of a queer one really. Just wanted you to confirm something." He opened his briefcase and rustled through various pieces of paper before pulling out a surveillance photograph of a man and a woman. An exterior shot. It was night and raining. "This was attached to an agent report," he said. "It's from one of our sources in the Provisional IRA." Sue couldn't clearly see the photograph. He was waving it around annoyingly about three feet from her nose while he talked. "The funny thing is" Norman said, "he told our source that he was a Russian called Sergei.  The Garda had no information on a rogue Russian being in the country. He even went to the Gaelic Club. The woman we know as a Republican supporter. Not an IRA member but a fellow traveller - believes in a united Ireland and all that Brits out stuff. I wondered if you would be able to pin down the Russian. A bit of a long shot I know, but I thought I'd try." He finally handed the photograph to Sue. She studied it closely.