Two of the thirty students, and one of them was Andrei, were to get additional training, but this was training by the intelligence service in Moscow. But they, like the other students, had been told that Comintern members would never be used for intelligence work.
The days of the extra training were long and exhausting. Walking the streets of Moscow in the rain and snow learning how to throw off somebody who was following him. Learning the use of codes and identifying places where signs and messages could be left. How to use signs so that they could only be recognised by the contact and how to use cut-outs so that nobody but the agent in control would know who was in the network and what they did. Then there was the system of messages broadcast on Radio Moscow on long-wave, disguised as letters from listeners. Words emphasised when giving the titles of songs requested by overseas listeners.
Finally there was instruction on the short-wave transceiver that could operate as far as Moscow from Paris or Berlin for urgent messages and instructions. Somebody who could use a Morse-key and service the radio would be available wherever he operated.
There was a week at the Moscow Film Centre where he was taught how to use a small camera and light-stand for copying documents. He was taught how to develop film but was told that unless there were specific orders exposed film would be passed on without being developed.
A specialist officer showed him how to pick simple locks and how to immobilise motor vehicles.
Like everything that he was taught Andrei absorbed it conscientiously. Time and money were being spent on him by the Party and he had to make sure that it wasn’t wasted. He didn’t see an immediate use for the spy training in doing his Comintern job but if people above thought it was necessary they would have good reasons.
Although he had vague dream-like memories of Moscow from when he was a child, the six months he spent there had been a wonderful opportunity to look at all the places his father had talked about. When his day’s training was over he’d walk around the city, admiring the beautiful old buildings and talking with men like his father working on the roads and building sites. But when he talked about the changes since the Revolution he found them suspicious and reluctant to talk. When he had mentioned this to Lensky he was surprised when he had warned him not to talk to strangers. And there was even a hint that he shouldn’t discuss politics with the people who were training with him.
On his walks at night he always came back to Red Square to stand looking at the light on the flag on the Kremlin building. That deep red flag with its hammer and sickle always moved him as it streamed out in the wind against the dark sky. It was like a beacon for all the peoples of the world.
The other student who was given the special training was a girl, a Spanish girl. They shared accommodation with an instructor in an old house near Manège Square. She was in her early twenties and although she was very attractive he found her too extrovert for his taste. Seemingly ready to take risks when caution would be more successful. She told him he was too cautious and too aloof. She obviously liked him and he found her company strangely comforting. Her optimism a counter to his caution. She was obviously well thought of in Moscow and knew people of influence and it was she who told him about Lensky.
They were drinking tea and reading their notes in the apartment one evening when she looked over at him and said, “Are you going to be Comintern or intelligence?”
“Comintern.”
“But you were sponsored by Lensky.”
“So?”
“Lensky is intelligence.”
“I don’t believe it. He’s a lawyer.”
She laughed. “You’re really rather an innocent in some ways, Andrei.”
“In what ways?”
“About what goes on inside the top layers of the Party. The struggles for power. Lensky for instance. Being a lawyer doesn’t stop him from being a spy.”
“And you. Will you be Comintern or intelligence?”
She smiled and shrugged. “The same as you.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Haven’t you worked it out yet?”
“No.”
“The spies don’t trust even Comintern members. Especially non-Russians. They want you to tell them if you come across doubtful members. They trust you for several reasons. Firstly because Lensky trusts you, and secondly because you were the most intelligent arguer of the Party line on the instruction course. And they trust you because you’re a Russian.” She laughed. “And they trust me because they desperately need someone who speaks Spanish and who will take some risks in the cause.” She paused. “You’d better be aware, Andrei, that despite the revolution the big boys are still struggling to see who holds the reins.”
“That’s nothing to do with me.”
“It may be one day, sweetheart.” She laughed. “Ask Lensky if you don’t believe me. Whoever wins Lensky will be up there at the top.”
Lensky was standing by the window looking at the lights of the city as the snow fell steadily in big soft flakes. He didn’t turn as he said, “There’s a man I want you to meet tomorrow before you leave. His name’s Spassky. Gene Spassky. He’s only about five years older than you but he’s going to be very important. He knows about you. Later on when you’ve settled into the work he’ll be your controller.”
“Is he a spy?”
“No.” Lensky hesitated. “Well, let’s say he has intelligence connections. He is a senior man in the Party and his work straddles the security service and the Comintern. You can trust him. If you’ve got any problems he can deal with them.” He waved his hand
