once we knew they had not died in that automobile accident? You expected us to give them a pension and a dacha?’
‘No, sir. I merely think they have acted well for this operation.’
‘My dear girl, they did not know they were helping us. From what I saw, they bumbled around in the night like two blind people. We even had to give them clues. Lead them. What is it that British writer said, “There is nothing worse than an old spy in a hurry,” eh? These were two old spies trying to break the sound barrier. Look, Nina, it is understandable for you to weep. Whatever they did wrong, they are still your parents. I see that, just as I know you have done well for us. You and the beautiful Natasha. Both of you kept the British comfortable and in a state of – what can I call it – cosy bewilderment? You also helped lead your aged parents a very merry dance, but you always understood it was a dance macabre. We even sacrificed people to them. Forget it now. You simply obeyed orders. You will be handsomely rewarded, I promise you that.’
Nina bowed her head. ‘Very well, comrade Marshal. Might I know what you intend for them?’
Yuskovich made an explosive noise of petulance, puffing his cheeks out and expelling air through his pursed lips. ‘Very well. They will be taken with the others. I have made arrangements for them to be processed at Perm 35. They will probably live there without undue hardship. They will die there.’
Perm 35 is one of the few remaining Stalin-era camps. It lies on the European side of the Urals, and, under the new President’s lenient release of political prisoners, its population of three hundred has dwindled to some fifteen – hijackers, military deserters and one CIA spy.
They buried James Bond the next morning, wrapping his body in sheets before placing it in the hard cold ground. Spetsnaz soldiers had hacked their way through the earth to make the grave which was marked by a piece of wood, carved overnight by one of their number. It bore the legend.
Even Yuskovich attended the interment. He also allowed Natkowitz and Boris Stepakov to be present. A squad of four Spetsnaz fired a volley of shots over the grave, while another played the Last Post on an old bugle.
The surprise came from Stepakov who, when the last notes died away, stepped forward and spoke lines memorised from his beloved Shelley:
‘It is a modest creed, and yet
Pleasant if one considers it,
To own that death itself must be,
Like all the rest, a mockery.’
Natkowitz could have sworn there were tears running down the clownish face as the KGB general walked from the graveside.
All the actors and technicians who had been gathered together by Yuskovich’s fake
On that same afternoon, Marshal Yuskovich watched the grainy black and white video, now fully assembled by Clive. When it was over, he instructed Clive and his assistants to work until late in the night, making three hundred copies of the video. One officer and two men were left to watch over them.
The officer was given a list of all television companies. The tapes were to be taken out by him and his two soldiers, and he was to be certain they were dispatched immediately by the quickest method to the companies on the list.
‘And what of the director, Clive, and his men?’ the officer asked.
‘You are to dispatch them also.’ Yuskovich drew his forefinger across his throat, then went in search of Major Verber and the rest of his personal force.
They reported that the two French agents, Boris Stepakov and the remaining Briton already waited aboard the last helicopter.
‘Nina Bibikova?’ he asked.
‘She’s there with five of the men. We’ve sedated the prisoners. They’ll cause us no problems. A little something in their coffee.’
‘You have heard from Baku?’
‘It’s quiet, sir,’ Major Verber reported. ‘Cold, but everything is in place. We can be there by morning. The Scamps have been taken on board and we’re ready to sail. There’s even an icebreaker, just in case.’
‘The Scamps
‘All six of them. Everything, comrade General. The crews as well.’
‘They are old weapons.’ The marshal sounded as though he spoke fondly of children. ‘Old, but still very effective. I have husbanded those Scamps and Scapegoats against just such a day as this.’
The Scamp is a Russian mobile launching system, now phased out. Its missile was the Scapegoat with a range of two thousand, five hundred miles. The Scapegoat nuclear warhead yields between one and two megatons. Six of these missiles, therefore, would be equal to almost three times the explosive power of all bombs dropped in World War II.
‘Well, if all goes to plan, we’ll have them in Iraq within three days. Right under the noses of the Americans, British, French: the entire lot.’ Yuskovich nodded brusquely and led the way out to the waiting helicopter.
18
SCAMPS AND SCAPEGOATS
The great port and city of Baku had been troubled by riots and demonstrations for over a year, like every other town and city in the Soviet Socialist Republic of Azerbaijan. All over the country, in the diverse regions which make up the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, there had been an uneasiness which sparked unrest, disaffection, and the kind of ugly scenes which even five years ago would have been put down unmercifully.
In Azerbaijan the national feeling had run high. Mobs took to the streets in Baku and a dozen other centres. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to rule their own republic, frame their own laws, distribute their own food and raise their own armies. It was quite unworkable and this was the nightmare foreseen by the senior officers of the Soviet Army, Navy, and Air Force when the theories of restructuring had been set in motion. The nightmare came closer as each day passed.
In Baku the unrest whispered and bubbled through the old town, the port and the modern city. Perhaps because of it, nobody paid much attention to the three large fishing boats anchored offshore, alongside a naval T-43 Class ocean minesweeper, which bore on its side the white numbering
Many naval craft were to be seen out on the Caspian Sea, but that was normal off Baku. There was a base, said to be used by the Soviet Naval Infantry, further up the coast, near Derbent, and those who plotted revolt and reform had taken it into account. At the moment, however, it looked as though the minesweeper was simply watching over its flock of three fishing boats. This was natural enough. Everyone liked the caviar from the sturgeon which provided almost six per cent of the annual fish harvest, which also included salmon, mullet, carp and a dozen other types of fish culled from the world’s largest inland body of water. Fish, oil and the forests had made the Caspian Sea one of the richest natural plundering areas within the borders of the USSR. Though it was slowly being eroded, shrinking, over-fished and polluted, the Caspian remained a major resource in the Soviet’s beleaguered economy.
Marshal Yevgeny Andreavich Yuskovich thought with pleasure about the fishing boats and the minesweeper
