And on a more homely level American travellers complained about inflation when a room for the night could cost $12. In the Soviet Union the $12 would rent you a room for three months but there would be five other people sharing the room.
So in 1948 Moscow set about aggravating the Americans by trying to cut off Berlin from the Allies, and Congress, feeling only vaguely guilty, turned a blind eye when McCarthy and his henchmen started their attacks on the Reds. A bad time was going to be had by one and all. A few quiet voices muttered—“Those whom the Gods would destroy …” but they never finished the sentence and anyway nobody listened. Euripides wasn’t likely to unseat Norman Mailer on the list of bestsellers for 1948.
CHAPTER 31
A lot of Aarons’ traffic with Moscow was now coded material by post via Toronto. As he sat decoding the latest messages he realised that he would have to expand his network. Myron Harper’s apparent change of heart didn’t affect his operation because he had never been part of the network, his only use was political information and Aarons was no longer responsible for providing that sort of background material. But Moscow seemed to be continuously expanding the range of their tasks.
The latest request was for information on US Navy submarine communication systems and for details of a new gun-sight but it took weeks and sometimes months depending on when the ultimate source was on leave from the navy. He had a man who specialised in reading and evaluating patents applications and technical magazines who could start the trail off for the gun-sight. The kind of money involved in this sort of work seemed incredible but when he had queried it with Moscow they had told him to pay whatever it cost.
When he had absorbed the basic information he burnt the two pages of instructions in the bathroom bowl, pouring in water until it was no more than black flecks in the water. Then he pulled the plug and poured down a cupful of the liquid that plumbers use to loosen up blocked pipes. He left the tap running for fifteen minutes before he turned it off.
It was almost midnight as he made himself an omelette and opened a tin of peaches and a tin of Nestlé’s condensed milk.
Ten minutes later Ivan came in, hanging up his coat and then joining Aarons at the small kitchen table.
“You hear the news tonight, Andrei?”
“No, I haven’t had the radio on.”
“Truman says the whole country has got to be defended against the Reds.”
Aarons shrugged. “They’re always saying things like that. Forget it.”
“Sounds to me he meant business.”
Aarons looked at Ivan. “Tell me, brother, if you had the choice of living here in America or in the Soviet Union which would you choose?”
“Are you planning to go back then?”
Aarons shook his head. “Let me put it another way. If somebody in Germany were given the choice which do you think he’d choose?”
“Depends on the guy, Andrei.”
“Why?”
“Well if a guy’s a winner he’ll choose the States, if he’s a loser he’ll choose Russia.”
“How do you make that out?”
“Well if you’re a go-getter you’ll come here because the rewards are good, but it’s a bad place for losers. Russia’s great for losers. You’ll have a job. You’ll probably hate it but it’s a job. You’ll have a roof over your head.” He grinned. “But you’ll share it with five or six others. You’ll get medical treatment if you’re ill provided you know some Party guy who’ll get you in. You won’t have to make any decisions; like in the army, you’ll do as you’re told. Winners don’t want to be told by anybody.”
“And how did you work all that out?”
Ivan shrugged. “Everybody knows it, you don’t need to work it out.”
“Are you a go-getter then?”
“You bet.” He smiled. “By the way, can you pay me more? I could get more than you pay me sweeping the streets.”
Andrei nodded. “Yes. You should have asked me before.”
Two weeks later Aarons got a coded message from Lensky to meet him in Vienna. He had booked to Rome and then taken a flight to Vienna.
A man he didn’t know had approached him at the airport and after they had gone through a password routine he had been driven to a large house in its own grounds outside the city boundaries.
There was only Lensky at the house apart from the servants and plain-clothes guards who were all Soviets not locals. Lensky looked tired and Aarons realised that Lensky was now an old man. He ate slowly and without his old relish and at the end of the meal he led Aarons into the large living room, pointing at the leather chairs around a low table.
“I need your help, Andrei.”
“Just tell me what you want.”
Lensky smiled faintly, without conviction. “I appreciate your loyalty but there are things you need to know before you make any decisions.” He paused and looked at Aarons. “The wrong people are making the decisions in Moscow right now and they haven’t the wisdom to see where it’s heading us. Those of us who want to take another route no longer have any influence. Our time will come but …” He shrugged, “… it may be years before it does. And we may not survive that long.”
“So tell me what I can do to help you?”
Lensky shook his head. “Not so fast, Andrei. When I tell you what it’s about you may feel the other people have got it right. I don’t want blind loyalty, I want your advice.”
“About what?”
Lensky shrugged slowly,
