Charlie Muffin: The Blind Run Part 17

'd.a.m.n the pension people,' said Wilson. 'Let me know if there's a difficulty.'

Harkness nodded and said, 'I don't think there will be. What about the funeral?'

The director considered the question. 'The Soviets will swamp it, of course,' he predicted.

'Inevitably, I would think,' said Harkness.

'Better for no one important to go then ...' Wilson hesitated. 'Richardson!' he suddenly decided. They'll know about Richardson now.'

'Might even make them think there was something that Wainwright didn't tell them, after all,' said Harkness.

'Good point,' nodded Wilson. He paused for several moments and said, 'Don't suppose there's any doubt that he didn't tell them everything?'

'None at all, I wouldn't imagine,' said Harkness. 'They'll expect us to change the code now. Not only because of Wainwright but because they'll know we've detected their alterations, from our listening facilities.'

'Let's not designate a sender any more,' ruled Wilson. 'I don't want to lose anyone else, in the Russian panic to find out what's happening.'

Chapter Twenty-One.

General Kalenin was extremely careful preparing his entrapment information because the suspected twelve men who received it were consummate professional intelligence officers who would have recognised at once not only if it did not appear absolutely genuine but if it were something going beyond the knowledge they were ent.i.tled to receive. Which meant, the KGB chairman accepted with great reluctance, that the material had to be genuine. He attempted to console himself with the thought that the accepted cure for oil-well fires were explosions within the well head itself, extinguishing a destructive blaze with a bigger but briefer conflagration. He tried to limit the potential damage as much as possible, sifting through what had already been leaked and where applicable adding t.i.tbits that would not seriously worsen an already bad situation but with twelve possible sources to cover that was not completely possible. He had to include intelligence concerning Soviet preparations in the event of an open, armed conflict with the Chinese along the border area at Alma Ata and some indication of troop strength and disposition plans if a Chinese conflict did develop necessary from the need to switch from the Warsaw Pact front.

The British changed their transmission code within a fortnight of Wainwright's body being returned to the country. Kalenin was surprised they didn't do it earlier. He imposed fresh pressure upon the code-breaking cryptologists and underwent two frustrating weeks of uncertainty before the mathematicians found the key. It was another mathematical code, this time based upon a factor of five, and Sampson was again utilised, in an effort to transcribe ripple designation and the prefacing ident.i.ty line that once more was created from a different code structure. As should have been expected from their expertise and their computers it was the mathematicians who isolated the ripple figure which made the code work, but it only happened after the suggestion from Sampson that the second formula might be linked to the first. There was no longer the disparaging att.i.tude towards Sampson that there had been before and so the cryptologists listened to the suggestion and acted upon it, taking the activating numeral of the initial code two and dividing it into the activating numeral of the second. Which produced a figure of 2.50. Using that as the multiplier, they experimented with their computers for a further week, running random subtractions and multiples and finally found their entry into the messages by quadrupling the activating 2.50 and then multiplying it by the base figure, with the final multiplication by a further 2.50 for the actual message.

The deciphering experts were hampered by only having three messages upon which to work. The first, when they transcribed it, concerned a difficulty in raising foreign currency from gold sales because of failures in the ore producing mines of Muruntau. The second recorded the troop dispositions necessary to maintain the Soviet control of Afghanistan. Neither had been included in the entrapment messages that Kalenin devised. The third, which was electrifying, said the Russian source intended to make contact and use the identifying phrase.

Sampson remained involved through the transcriptions and succeeded in deciphering the ident.i.ty line ahead of the mathematicians' success with the first message. Rose was again the key, which in later discussions with Berenkov when the Russian tried to argue carelessness, the increasingly confident Sampson argued the alternative, the actual cleverness of adapting an existing device because of the logical explanation that they would attempt something completely new. On the second occasion the rose-loving British Director had confined his key to a single species the centifolia and when he transcribed it Sampson asked for an immediate meeting with Berenkov, because of the difference he found. Berenkov, conscious of the importance, saw Sampson the same day.

The two men met in Berenkov's office, a conference table cleared and unnecessarily large for the limited file that Sampson brought with him. It was a simple exposition for the Englishman, only a few moments comparison being necessary.

'No sender?' Berenkov realised at once.

Pedantically Sampson went through the line, wanting to prove his worth. 'The first block identifies Wilson, MD again,' he said. 'The second block is simply a dating and timing configuration. The sender is identified only by the word "Residency".'

'So now we don't even have a transmission name at this end.'

'We do know that the contact has been maintained. Despite Richardson's withdrawal. And despite Wainwright's death. And something else.'

'What?'

'The third message. Reference to an identification phrase,' pointed out Sampson. 'There's no indication in anything that we've intercepted of what it will be.'

Berenkov nodded. 'How do you interpret that?'

'Richardson hand-carried it,' guessed Sampson. 'That's why he was withdrawn.' He paused and said, 'There's something else about the messages all of them don't you think?'

'What?' demanded Berenkov.

Before answering Sampson laid everything out upon the conference table, the new messages and then all those that had preceded them, in the other code. 'Ignore the contact message,' said Sampson. 'Look at all the others very closely and a.n.a.lyse them beyond the decoding. Almost without exception just four, to be precise everything emanates from an operational or planning level. And even the four that don't conform four devoted entirely to trade decisions have an operational application so there is probably some cross-referencing somewhere.'

Berenkov didn't hurry. He went painstakingly through every message, frequently appearing to refer back to a message he had already examined because the inference was obvious and at the end he said, 'Thank you. That was an extremely astute observation.'

It was the judgment that Berenkov repeated, during the later meeting with Kalenin. Like Berenkov before, the KGB chairman examined all the messages and finally looked up stern-faced and said, 'Absolutely right. The trade messages threw me off track, but Sampson's absolutely right. It's entirely operational or planning.'

'My divisions,' acknowledged Berenkov, openly.

Kalenin realised it reduced the possible sources from twelve to just seven men. Which was still seven too many but a small improvement. 'Yes,' he said, shortly.

'I would understand, if you chose to suspend me until the enquiries are complete,' said Berenkov, formally.

Kalenin shook his head, in immediate refusal. 'I need your help, not your absence.'

'Why don't we plant something, to get him to reveal himself that way?'

'I've done that already,' disclosed Kalenin. 'It didn't work.'

'Including me?' asked Berenkov.

'Including you,' said the chairman.

Berenkov wondered what the material had been. He said, 'What then?'

'Greatly increased surveillance,' said Kalenin. 'Electronic, photographic ... everything.'

'What about suspension, from sensitive material, until it's resolved. With only seven people, it shouldn't take long.'

'It would, if we took away the very reason for contact.'

'That's an appalling risk, to allow everything to continue: not to impose some sort of filter.'

'I want to find him, whoever he is. Not drive him underground.'

'Still an appalling risk.'

'But one I've got to take. That I've no alternative but to take.'

'Sampson is proving to be brilliant,' praised Berenkov.

Kalenin's surveillance included monitoring beyond what was normal and he knew from film and microphones everything that pa.s.sed between his friend and the Englishman. He nodded and said, 'He seems to be the only piece of good fortune that we've had, for a long time.'

'He realises the importance of this the opportunity it's created for him and he's determined to prove himself. It's become a personal thing,' said Berenkov, who had expected and knew Kalenin's study of the meetings.

'It's a personal thing for me, as well,' said Kalenin, increasingly morose.

That was proved quicker than the KGB chairman expected. Two days later he was summoned before an unscheduled but plenary session of the Politburo convened specifically to consider the leak. Kalenin went fully aware that although Wainwright's death had occurred outside Soviet jurisdiction he was being blamed for a political mistake, in addition to the increasing and valid criticism of appearing powerless to find and stop the activities of a traitor. The Politburo had been provided with a complete report in advance of his personal attendance but they insisted upon Kalenin making a personal presentation a humiliation further to indicate criticism, he recognised and then underwent a full hour of questioning, unhappily aware throughout that he had hardly any of the answers.

'This is a situation that has to be resolved,' insisted the Politburo chairman, Anatoli Matushin.

'I understand that,' said Kalenin, self-angered at his apparent impotence.

'The progress so far is unimpressive.'

'For which I personally apologise, Comrade chairman.'

'I am not interested in your apologies,' said Matushin. 'I am interested in a criminal a traitor being brought to justice and the leaking to the West of material essential to our very security being halted. I want results, Comrade General. I want results and I want them quickly. And if you prove unable to achieve them, then the task must be given to someone else.'

Charlie decided that things were looking good again. After the hiatus between the first encounter with Berenkov they moved fast, too. There were two meetings with Berenkov, official this time, out at the familiar American-style building by the ring road, where Berenkov explained the job was to be to brief agents immediately prior to their infiltration into the West and explained the employment would give Charlie some legitimacy, with a 3,000 rouble a month salary and concessionary facilities and possibly an apartment away from the transitional one he currently occupied. Charlie asked the questions he knew he would have been expected to ask and considered the implications as he would have been expected to consider them, all the while thinking instead of the bonus it gave him. To succeed and if contact were made, Charlie was determined to succeed in the function which had brought him to Moscow would mean complete rehabilitation, as he had already decided: to be able to return to the West knowing the ident.i.ties of people in whom the KGB had invested years of training and expertise and infiltrated into Europe and North America would be an even greater coup, making it possible for him to cut off Soviet spying efforts for years. Christ, weren't things looking good!

Apart from the encounters with Berenkov, there were meetings with two separate examination panels, which Charlie instantly recognised as being a.s.sessments of his ability. Charlie welcomed the challenge, properly confident, that confidence growing when he realised from their questions how ignorant the supposed expert body were about the reality of life outside Russia. The illegals being sent abroad from the Soviet Union needed further training and advice, if they were setting out with the preconceived biases and downright misunderstandings that some of the questioners showed, in their examination of him. Charlie pointed up the ignorance every time, careless of offending anyone because he didn't intend the career to be long enough for the politics of friends and enemies to be important and because every time he did so it proved his ability for the very function for which they were deciding his apt.i.tude.

It was Berenkov who confirmed the appointment and not at the official building but at Kutuzovsky Prospekt again. This time, with money available, Charlie took flowers and Valentina wasn't as shy as she had been on the first occasion, staying with them longer at the table and afterwards and joining more in the conversation. Georgi was absent, cramming the final studies at the academy, before his exchange examinations and apart from saying he hoped Georgi was successful Charlie didn't talk much about the boy to either of them, conscious of the feeling between them at the prospect of Georgi going overseas.

Although she spent more time with them there was still opportunity for Charlie and Berenkov to talk business. Charlie was as critical to Berenkov about the selection committees as he had been to their faces and the Russian shook his head in weary acceptance and agreed the shortcomings and said that was precisely why he'd thought of Charlie performing the function. Having presented himself at GUM which meant Berenkov would have recognised his purpose for being there if indeed it was Berenkov Charlie actually made the pretence of examining the overflowing bookshelves and selecting something of Chekhov's but Berenkov gave no reaction, not even recalling his use of the books in Britain. Charlie wondered about talking of the accusation in Pravda against the British first secretary and decided against it, unwilling to risk too much.

There are espionage schools throughout the Soviet Union but the concentration is around Moscow. The installations that equip Russian agents for overseas work are administered by the First Chief Directorate, of which a sub-section directorate S is responsible for foreign infiltration.

Balashikha is such an installation, actually off the same circ.u.mferal highway that Charlie now knew so well, about fifteen miles east of Moscow just off Gofkovskoy Shosse. It is an absolutely restricted, secluded place, behind sensored fences and protected by uniformed guards and dogs. Charlie went the first day under escort, the necessary accreditation and pa.s.ses actually provided to him during the ride out from the city. The security checks were more stringent than he could remember from England, four separate and intensive checks before he reached the main building, where there was a further examination.

There was a man waiting for him just beyond the reception area and Charlie recognised him as someone who had sat on both the selection panels.

'My name is Krysin,' introduced the man. 'Andrei Vladimirovich Krysin. I am the director here.'

And someone whose ignorance of true conditions in the West he had on at least three occasions shown to be facile, remembered Charlie. f.u.c.k it, he thought. 'I'm looking forward to working with you,' he said.

'We're looking forward to your being here,' said Krysin, heavily. 'From our apparent ignorance you seemed delighted to expose during what was supposed to be your suitability selection, it would seem we're greatly in need of your expertise.'

Why was it, wondered Charlie, that he never got on with anyone in authority? He said, 'I hope I don't disappoint you.'

'I hope so too,' said Krysin, making the threat obvious. 'I hope so very much indeed.'

Kiss my a.s.s, thought Charlie.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Natalia Fedova was the third person to enter the room. Her arrival completely confused Charlie but he was sure there was no outward indication. He remained as he was, lounged over the lectern in the front of the small lecture hall, glad there were more behind, which meant he didn't have to begin immediately, having time to think instead. What the h.e.l.l was she doing there! Berenkov wouldn't have made contact and he wouldn't have got past the selection interviews or most indicative of all been allowed in a place with the security of Balashikha if they didn't trust him. So it couldn't be a test. And if it were a test then it wouldn't be done like this, with her taking her place sedately in one of the seats confronting him: it would be with microphones and cameras, entrapment devices trying to catch him in an unguarded moment. Maybe it was a move of Krysin's. Charlie recognised he'd made the academy director look a fool in front of the other selectors so maybe the man was invoking whatever authority he possessed to get Natalia to run another check and maybe make an adverse report, reducing the impression that he appeared to have made with the other examiners.

Charlie was waiting when she finally looked up. He smiled at her. She made no response, instead looking away with the appearance of discomfort. Charlie accepted that his conclusion might be wrong, but it was the best he could manage. OK, Natalia Nikandrova Fedova he thought, if you want to see a performance then you'll see a performance. As the one thought came, so did another. Always honest with himself, Charlie realised that he'd enjoy showing off to her.

There were five, in addition to Natalia, one other woman and four men. Although the room was small, it still left a lot of s.p.a.ce. They arranged themselves in seats in varying rows: Natalia was third from the front. Charlie waited until they had settled themselves, watching while the other woman and two of the men took out notepads and arranged pencils alongside.

'Dobraya utra,' said Charlie.

'Dobraya utra,' every one of them replied and Charlie slapped the desk and said, 'You've all just been arrested.'

The group a.s.sembled in front of him looked among themselves uncertainly and Charlie said, 'What you've just done is inconceivable! You are supposed to have qualified from every training course, to be ready to be infiltrated anywhere in the West. You're not Russian any more. You don't think Russian, speak Russian, you're not Russian.'

It had been gimmicky the oldest gimmick in the book but it had worked. He had their attention. The fact that they had fallen for the oldest entrapment gimmick didn't say much for their training.

'You,' said Charlie, pointing to a fair-haired man nearest to him, in the front row. 'What is your name?'

'Belik,' replied the young man, 'Gennadi Belik.'

'What have Zachary Taylor, James Buchanan and Rutherford Hayes got in common?'

The young man smiled, relieved. 'They were all presidents of the United States of America.'

Charlie sighed. 'Shall I tell you who knows that?' he said. 'American historians, academics, know that. A few hundred college students. And foreign agents force-fed facts, in the stupid belief that it gives them cover ...' If Krysin heard this and Charlie didn't have any doubt that he would he'd be even more unhappy. He said to the man, 'All right, what should you have said?'

Belik coloured, the uncertainty obvious. 'I don't know,' he admitted, responding to Charlie's question.

'Exactly!' accepted Charlie. 'You didn't know. Don't ever go beyond what is absolutely essential to maintain whatever legends you're living. Someone who can recite the names of three obscure presidents of the United States is drawing attention to himself. The essential requirement if you are going to survive and this is what we're literally talking about, survival then you must never, under any circ.u.mstances, draw attention to yourselves. You become people of whom n.o.body is aware. You see but are not seen ...' He pointed to the other women. 'What is your name?'

'Olga Suvorov,' replied the woman. She was nondescript and mousy haired: a good choice, thought Charlie.

He said, 'Before entering the room, you a.s.sembled, outside?'

She nodded.

'You see but are not seen,' repeated Charlie. 'Stay looking directly at me, like you are at the moment. Stay looking directly at me and describe how everyone else is dressed, in the room.'

Olga's eyes flicked sideways and Charlie said, 'Look at me!'

Predictably, Olga began with Natalia. 'Grey dress,' she began, awkwardly. 'Belted. Shoes ... I think the shoes were black. The men ... suits, all but two. I think three were grey ... no, two were ...'

'Stop,' said Charlie. Holding the woman's eyes he said, 'You have an oatmeal dress, brown shoes and a ladder in the left leg of your stockings. It's not visible now, because of the way you are sitting, but you have a necklace with a black stone pendant, and your ear-rings don't match. They're dark blue. The other woman in the cla.s.s is wearing a grey dress. The shoes aren't black, they're dark grey and if you remembered that the dress was belted you should have remembered also that the front b.u.t.tons are heavy and black. She has a gold chain at her throat, not ear-rings, although her ears are pierced. She isn't wearing stockings. The man in the front seat is wearing a green sports jacket and grey trousers, which haven't been pressed. He's a smoker, because the fingers of his left hand are nicotine stained. That's not the only indication of his being a heavy smoker. Sometimes he does it surrept.i.tiously, holding the cigarette cupped in the palm of his hand. The hand is stained, too ...' Instinctively Belik moved to cover his hand. Charlie went on ... 'He has a grey shirt and a grey knitted tie. The left cuff of the shirt is frayed. Sometime in the past his fountain-pen leaked: there's a large stain, which was visible when he took out some pencils to take notes, at the beginning of this session. The two men in the back row are wearing suits. One is plain grey, the other with a predominant blue check over grey. Both the shirts are white: one tie is red, the other a pattern, mostly blue. The grey suit is old: there is a repair mark on the left knee. The check isn't new, either. The seat is worn and shiny. Both have black shoes. The man in the grey suit has the nervous habit of biting his nails, left hand more than the right ...' The accused man moved his hands, like Belik had earlier. 'The man in the patterned suit also has a nervous mannerism, moving the ring on his left hand. The fourth man in this cla.s.s is wearing a brown sports jacket with lighter brown trousers, with brogue shoes. The shoes are in need of repair, both badly down at heel. The tie is red and trying to conform to some earlier instruction, the knot is a wide one, no doubt a style you've been taught is popular in the West, particularly in America. The man in the brown jacket is impatient with this lesson, considering it a waste of time: five times already he's checked the time. He's appeared to make notes but from the movement of the pencil, they haven't been notes. They've been doodles, a way to pa.s.s the time ...'

Charlie broke away from his direct stare at Olga Suvorov, encompa.s.sing the cla.s.s. The face of the man in the brown jacket blazed red and both Belik and the man at the rear sat with their hands beneath the desk now. Gimmicky again, conceded Charlie later they might even decide it hadn't been such an impressive trick, because he'd had the advantage of looking out at them, even though they'd have to accept that all of them were partially hidden by the desks at which they sat but it was still effective. They were all looking among themselves, with the exception of Natalia. She met Charlie's gaze this time, the expression on her face one of faint amus.e.m.e.nt. Was it amus.e.m.e.nt? wondered Charlie. Or contempt?

To the embarra.s.sed man in the brown jacket Charlie said, 'How are you called?'

'Popov,' said the man. 'Yuri Pavlovich Popov.'

'No!' said Charlie. 'Listen, for Christ's sake listen! You've been trained to infiltrate countries that speak English. Which means England or the United States or Canada or Australia or New Zealand or although unlikely South Africa. No one there, seeking your name, says "How are you called?" That's English constructed from a foreign language. It's another interrogation trick, like saying good morning in Russian.'

'How should we respond, then?'

The question came from Natalia. Charlie looked to her, thinking again how attractive she was: not beautiful, but attractive. A contemptuous question? he wondered, recalling her earlier expression. Or one of genuine interest? He was talking of interrogation entrapment and she'd interrogated him. It could be a test. If he proved himself too adept at confronting and resisting interrogation then she might suspect that he'd tricked her. 'Always with innocence,' he said. 'Because that's what you always are, innocent of whatever stupidity has caused whatever has happened to you. Not anger. Or arrogance. Anger and arrogance fit, of course, but unless they're absolutely genuine they're too easy to detect and undermine. Innocence is the barrier. Because if you're innocent then it's natural to be confused and if you're confused then it's perfectly understandable if you stumble and appear awkward if you make dangerous mistakes, even.' Charlie hesitated, wondering whether to continue. She was concentrating absolutely upon him and Charlie was warmed by the attention. He went on, 'But use being a confused innocent...' He looked to the brown-jacketed man who had identified himself as Yuri Popov. '"How are you called?" didn't fit and instead of being anxious to respond you should have come back at me and asked me what I meant. By doing that, you tilt the balances so that I have to provide, to your questioning.'