‘Your shirt collar is undone,’ complained Harkness, at once.
‘A pin stuck in my neck,’ said Charlie, in poor explanation.
‘What!’
Before Charlie could respond, Wilson said impatiently: ‘My collar’s undone, too,’ which it was. He went on: ‘Got an unusual one for you this time, Charlie.’
Weren’t they all? thought Charlie, wearily. He said: ‘What is it?’
‘For almost three years we’ve had a source directly inside the headquarters of the KGB itself, in Dzerzhinsky Square,’ disclosed Wilson. ‘Name’s Vladimir Novikov. He was the senior supervisor in the cipher section: security cleared to handle things up to and including Politburo level.’
That wasn’t unusual, acknowledged Charlie: that was sensational. ‘
‘He was getting jumpy, so we agreed to his defection,’ nodded the Director. ‘Then he became convinced he was under active investigation so he ran, crossing at the Finnish border. Seems he was right because there was certainly a chase.’
‘When?’ asked Charlie.
‘Two months ago,’ came in Harkness.
The timing meant other people were conducting the debriefing, realized Charlie, relieved. He had a special reason for not liking debriefings. ‘How good is his information?’ he said.
‘That’s why you’re here,’ said Wilson. ‘I know it’s early days, but so far everything he’s said checks out absolutely one hundred per cent.’
‘So?’ queried Charlie, warily.
‘Something was being organized, just before he came over. Something very big.’
‘What?’
‘A major international, political assassination,’ announced the Director, simply. ‘It looks as if Britain is involved.’
‘Who?’ asked Charlie.
‘He doesn’t know.’
‘When?’
‘He doesn’t know.’
‘Where?’
‘He doesn’t know.’
‘How?’
‘He doesn’t know.’
‘Who’s the assassin?’
‘He doesn’t know.’
‘What do you expect me to do?’
Wilson looked at Charlie curiously, as if he were surprised by the reaction. ‘Find out who is to be killed and stop it happening, of course.’
Fuck me, thought Charlie. But then people usually did. Or tried to, at least.
Characteristically, Alexei Berenkov was an ebullient, flamboyant man but he was subdued now because the defector had ultimately been his responsibility, as head of the KGB’s First Chief Directorate. The demeanour of Mikhail Lvov was equally controlled but then the commander of Department 8 of Directorate S which plans and carries out ordered assassinations was by nature a reserved and controlled man, in addition to which the meeting was being held in the office of the KGB chairman himself, which had an intimidating effect.
It was the chairman, General Valery Kalenin, who opened the discussion.
‘The decision is a simple one,’ he said. ‘Do we abort the assassination? Or do we let it proceed?’
Chapter Two
General Valery Kalenin was a small, saturnine man whose life had been devoted to Soviet intelligence. He had controlled it through two major leadership upheavals in the Politburo, which now regarded him with the respect of people well aware – because he’d made sure they were aware – that he had embarrassing files upon all of them, like America’s Edgar Hoover had retained unchallenged his control of the FBI with his tittle-tale dossiers upon US Congressmen and presidents. Kalenin had been a young and never-suspected overseas agent in Washington during the last year of Hoover’s reign and had been unimpressed by the ability of the country’s counter-intelligence service. He’d applauded the advantage of incriminating information, though, and followed Hoover’s example when he had gained the ultimate promotion to Dzerzhinsky Square. Although he had taken the precaution Kalenin was unsure if he would ever use it as a defence, because he found the idea of blackmail distasteful, like he found assassination distasteful. The defection was a good enough excuse to abandon the idea but Kalenin, a forever cautious man, thought there might also be a good and protective reason to let it run.
Although the question had been put more to Berenkov than to the head of the assassination division, it was Lvov who responded. ‘A great deal of planning and effort has gone into the operation,’ he said, an ambitious man defending something personally his.
‘To how much did Novikov have access?’ demanded Kalenin.
‘Certainly sufficient to know that an assassination was being planned,’ said Berenkov. In contrast to Kalenin, the head of the First Chief Directorate was a bulge-stomached, florid-faced man.
‘But little more than that,’ argued Lvov, who was aware of the importance the Kremlin attached to the assassination and even more aware of the benefit of being recognized its creator.
‘We’ve traced three cables Novikov enciphered,’ said Berenkov. ‘One specifically talked of the value to be gained from a political killing.’
‘There was no identification of the target,’ insisted Lvov.
‘There is in the Politburo Minute,’ said Berenkov. ‘And Novikov was security-cleared for Politburo traffic.’
Kalenin, who was conscious of the differing attitudes between the two men confronting him, said: ‘Is there any proof of Novikov having seen the Politburo document?’
Berenkov shook his head, almost angrily. ‘Security in the Kremlin is a joke,’ he said. ‘There is no system, like we have here, of signature acknowledgement of handling. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. The only way we’ll ever know is to go ahead and find they’re waiting for us. And then it will be too late.’
‘You think we should abort then?’ demanded Kalenin. There was no other officer in the KGB whom Kalenin respected more than Alexei Berenkov. Like Kalenin, Berenkov had been a brilliant overseas operative – controlling five European cells under his cover as a London wine merchant – and endured English imprisonment until an exchange had been arranged, back to Moscow, where he had proven himself to be an even more brilliant headquarters official and planner.
‘I know how important the mission is regarded,’ said Berenkov. ‘I know, too, how much organization and time has gone into setting it up. But I think the risk of it being compromised outweighs every consideration.’
Lvov, who had anticipated Berenkov’s caution, said: ‘Vladimir Novikov was not the man who handled the identifying Politburo communication …’ He paused, offering a sheet of paper across the table to the KGB chairman. ‘This is an affidavit from a man named Nikolai Perebillo,’ Lvov resumed, triumphantly. ‘He controls the entire cipher section, with absolute clearance. And he attests that only he transmitted Politburo communications naming the target.’
Kalenin looked enquiringly at Berenkov.
Unimpressed, the huge man said: ‘Does it also attest that he’s positive that Novikov, alerted from messages to which he’d already had access, didn’t use his matching clearance to go through Politburo files to get more information?’
‘He could have been shot for that!’ tried Lvov.
‘He was a traitor, leaking information to the British!’ Berenkov came back. ‘He already risked being shot. And
