‘Yes. Yes, I suppose so, but everyone has their moments when they don’t make much sense.’
‘Do they?’ Patrushev said coldly. ‘Tell me again what was possessing him.’
‘He was talking about history and the remaking of it, over and over again. He seemed obsessed by the recurrence of the same themes. This link between Schmidtke and the President seemed to be one of those themes.’
‘So he believed that what Schmidtke was doing in Germany back then involved the President too?’ Patrushev said. ‘Finn is trying to change the good opinion the President enjoys in the West. He’s looking for evidence. And then…Beware of Vladimir Putin…is that it?’
‘I don’t know. He wasn’t specific.’
‘Oh, I think so,’ Patrushev replied quickly. ‘Finn sees a connection somewhere between those times and the present. He believes he can make trouble from the President’s past.’
I thought of Finn then, in the forest at Barvikha, of how he had seemed infused by some external power. And I thought of my question to him, that he hadn’t answered. What plan was he talking about?
He had mentioned the Plan again at our last meeting at the Baltschug, just once before he clammed up as he had done before in the forest. But perhaps from some instinct, I hadn’t included it in my last report after our Baltschug meeting, and now Patrushev was really close to this omission.
Suddenly I felt very alert. The tiredness that had been washing over me for some time, and which Patrushev seemed to be enjoying, evaporated. I wondered why he was asking me this, after the other three had been dismissed. It seemed somehow to have a crucial importance because of that. Even the General and his case officers weren’t to hear this line of questioning. I felt we were approaching the centre of power.
‘I thought he was slightly crazy that night,’ I said. ‘As I said, I remember thinking then, what will my superiors think of Finn’s great theme of history and so on? Will they think it fiction, bathos or madness?’
‘I don’t think it is any of those,’ Patrushev said. ‘Do you, Anna?’
‘Finn believes in a theme,’ I replied. ‘That theme, which runs from the days of the Soviet Union right up to today, is that the KGB never wholly lost control and has now regained it in a way that is perhaps more dangerous to the West than ever before. He believes that perestroika was managed by the KGB.’
‘Yes,’ Patrushev said, ignoring the old initials of our great organisation. But I didn’t know whether he was agreeing with what Finn believed or with the fact itself.
‘Schmidtke, the President, Russia’s reviving fortunes, our new stronger security service…what did he call this theme that night?’
‘He talked about a plan…’
‘A plan, yes. Have the General or your case officers ever picked up that comment of his from your reports? About a plan?’
‘No. No, they haven’t,’ I said.
‘So what is this plan?’ Patrushev asked.
‘Finn asked me if I knew what it was,’ I said. ‘But I didn’t know what he was talking about.’
I had the uncomfortable feeling that Finn’s monologue existed somewhere in our archives, recorded, though I knew that this couldn’t be possible. Nevertheless, the fear drove me to be truthful.
Patrushev leaned in so that I felt the smell of alcohol on his breath.
‘He said a plan. Is that exactly what he said?’
I recalled exactly what Finn had said that night.
‘I think he said the Plan, actually, but I may be wrong.’
‘He said
‘Yes, I think he did,’ I said.
I began to realise that this simple change of pronoun explained the presence of Patrushev that day at the Forest. It was what he had come for, in fact. It told him that Finn knew something, or suspected something, however little, that was known only to a very small group of individuals. Certainly Kerchenko and the case officers didn’t know anything, and neither did I.
‘What is it?’ I asked him. ‘The Plan. What does it mean?’
Patrushev stared at me and I knew I shouldn’t have asked the question. Eventually, he took his stare away and flicked his hand for a waiter to remove the empty plates. When the man had gone, Patrushev held me with his gaze again.
‘I’ll walk you to your car,’ he said.
We left the restaurant and Patrushev waved away the staff who offered him help. We walked out into a dark, moonless night and strolled across the car park which was the size of a parade ground.
‘Do you know why MI6 has kept Finn in Moscow for so long?’ Patrushev asked when we were far away from the buildings.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘I believe you don’t,’ he said.
I returned his stare.
‘We have a great interest in Finn, Anna. It is a vital interest for Russia.’
‘I guessed so. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.’
‘You’re smarter than your colleagues, if I may say so,’ Patrushev said and took my arm.
‘I’m going to confide in you, Anna, because it’s important for your work, for us, for your country. You understand?’
‘This is not even for the others’ ears,’ I said.
‘Exactly. Confidential isn’t a strong enough word,’ Patrushev said. ‘This is to be buried at the bottom of the deepest ocean as far as you’re concerned.’
‘I understand.’
‘We believe Finn has overstayed his welcome here for so many years for a very good reason. He has a source. An unusually important source, and one who will communicate only with him. We believe this source is so senior, either in the FSB or the SVR but probably the latter, that his identity can be restricted to a handful of perhaps ten people. We want to know who that source is, Anna.’
I didn’t answer. I was thinking wildly of Finn and his amiable, frivolous, carefree front and the huge secret Patrushev believed it all concealed.
‘You’re a clever woman, Anna. You’ve made him fall in love with you,’ Patrushev said.
I felt sick at that. I couldn’t speak.
‘And so you’re now in the perfect position,’ he said. ‘We want you to help us to make Russia strong again.’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘There is a bright and modern future for our country. But there’s someone very close to our hearts who doesn’t want that. We want the identity of the enemy, Anna. You are in the right place. You have the right background. And you are a rising star yourself in this new Russia. You can make history, perhaps, if you find this insider who will do anything, it seems, to damage Russia. That’s your job, and that alone. Find the identity of this traitor who has talked about the Plan.’
As I drove along the dark road to Barvikha that night, I felt completely joined to Finn, completely connected. He’d known we’d be reunited, and now I knew why. I was to be assigned to watch him again, sometime and somewhere else. And, once more, I knew that this future conjunction enabled me to postpone a decision to leave Russia for ever.
12
AS I SIT now in the vault at Tegernsee, I recall how well Finn guarded his great secret from me while he remained in Moscow. Had he been about to tell me on those two occasions, by the pond on New Year’s Eve and at the Baltschug Hotel? He had come close. But he drew back both times. And I know now that it was for my sake that he had kept his secret to himself. I doubt otherwise whether I would ever have been able to
