Man From Barbarossa

from a known member of the so-called Grey Wolves group. It would appear that the SoJ is a tyro organisation which seems to be dedicated to the spread of pro-Israeli and pro-Semite feelings and freedoms within the frontiers of Russia and her former satellite countries. Also it appears to have some unusually close attachments within groups diametrically opposed to its aims – people like the RAF and the Grey Wolves.’ Tanner looked round as though asking if they could all understand that.

‘And what else have we, Chief of Staff?’ M jollying things along, knowing well enough what evidence was to hand.

‘The addresses, circulated by GSG-9, were in Paris and London. The French GIGN,¹ in tandem with the DST,² invited two people, a man and a woman, to help them, sir.’ Tanner’s tongue was not stuck in his cheek, but he looked firmly at the ceiling.

‘As I recall, they were no help.’

‘None whatsoever, sir. The French people named in the list recovered from the Grey Wolves were very respectable. As, indeed, were the five our own Special Branch pulled in. Almost a stink about it as one of them had friends in very high places. Fact of the matter is that the Scales of Justice “phoney list”, as it became known, drew a blank.’

‘And your people, Pete?’ M asked, his face unreadable.

‘Until now we had come to believe that the SoJ was an empty shell.’ Natkowitz’s face was equally expressionless, the pause held just a shade too long before he added, ‘However, something did happen in early November that made some of our analysts wonder.’

‘General Brasilov?’ M spoke placidly.

‘The assassination of Leonid Brasilov, yes. Shot in the classic terrorist manner as his car waited at traffic lights less than a mile from Red Square, in broad daylight. Ride-by. Two motorcycles and a pair of Uzis. There is evidence that the Kremlin wanted to hush things up but too many people saw it happen.’

Bond stirred. ‘And General Brasilov was well-known for his anti-Semitic views?’

‘And actions. You know what the Russians have been like over the years. The anti-Semitism; the examples that were made; the difficulty Russian Jewish people have had just living in their own country. Yes, things have eased, they have flooded into Israel, but – well, I’ll not be coy. More are still in Russia wanting to get out. More are still being denied exit visas. The Russians will not own up to this, naturally, but the late General Brasilov was one of the largest thorns in that crown worn by so many Soviet Jews.’

‘And the day after the assassination . . .’ Bond began.

‘The day after, there were posters all over Moscow. “The Scales of Justice accepts responsibility for the death of L.L. Brasilov.” Some of the posters rendered the name not as Chushi Pravosudia, but as Moshch Pravosudia – the Weight of Justice which, in Russian, is a little more sinister. Yes, I’ve no doubt that the KGB are somewhat anxious, for, since then, there have been reports of one attempted bomb outrage in Leningrad and a failed assassination attempt within the Kremlin itself. Both attributable to the SoJ.’ Natkowitz gave a thin smile, looking round the room. ‘You know how my Service felt about getting me involved with you British . . .’ he paused, a silence of carefully premeditated effect, for they all knew it had taken some swallowing for the Mossad to agree to an operation hand in glove with the British Service. Mistrust between the two intelligence services had been spawned long ago, and it was an unsavoury truth that the Savaret Matkal, the formidable Israeli anti-terrorist military unit, would not speak directly with the British SAS. All communications went through Germany’s GSG-9.

‘We can guess how they felt,’ M said quickly. ‘In a manner of speaking, we’re making a little history here, yes?’

‘I hope so.’ Natkowitz spoke with some feeling. ‘Yes, sincerely I hope so.’

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken by Bill Tanner.

‘We’ve established that the SoJ cannot be easily pinned down. We suspect that they operate from within the troubled borders of the Soviet Union. We must also suspect they have some kind of reasonable organisation.’

‘It is conceivable that they are freedom fighters of a kind,’ Natkowitz said flatly, as though that was the end of it.

M cleared his throat, ‘But, if there is a real connection between the SoJ and the abduction of the man Penderek, mistakenly instead of the real target . . .’

‘You really believe mistakenly?’ Natkowitz laughed, one note, pitched high, his head thrown back.

‘Pete?’ Bond’s head slowly came round towards the Mossad officer. ‘Pete, you’re telling us that the Penderek abduction was no mistake?’

‘I think whoever did it wanted us to believe it was a mistake.’

‘Any reason? Logic?’

‘Just a nasty, sneaky feeling. Gut reaction. Intuition. Maybe we in the Mossad have become cynical, or even paranoid. But I cannot believe in coincidence. The error in snatching Penderek is so obvious. I also have to admit I find the new development – the disappearance of the real Vorontsov – very disturbing. I suppose I’m really waiting to hear what KGB are after. Maybe that will give us a lead towards the truth. Perhaps you are ready to tell us now, sir.’ This last to M.

The Chief gave the impression of a man waking from a doze. ‘Yes, why not?’ He looked towards Natkowitz. ‘You know, I presume, KGB appear to be aware of your Service’s theory that the Chushi Pravosudia have lifted the wrong man?’

‘It doesn’t surprise me, sir.’ Natkowitz gave a little smile which Bond translated to mean that the Mossad had almost certainly dropped the information into Moscow Centre via some handy go-between. He also found it odd to hear M using the Russian term for the Scales of Justice.

‘The Kremlin,’ M pursed his lips as though he still found it difficult to believe they were on speaking terms with his Service’s old enemies, ‘are of a mind to turn down any idea of bringing Penderek to Russia, and trial. They haven’t announced it yet, but almost certainly will do so the minute you’re both in Moscow. Their reasons are going to be based on the information you have just given us. That it is the wrong man.’

Natkowitz nodded, once more signifying that this would be the sensible thing for them to do.

‘They feel that a refusal might well bring the Chushi Pravosudia into the open, and this is really where you come in. Moscow claim to have two members of the Chushi Pravosudia in custody. They are both male and both of British origin. They say the pair have been sweated and the sweat has produced interesting results.’

‘Do we know any more about these two?’ Bond’s brow creased.

‘Not a thing. The Foreign Office has not been informed of any British subjects missing, or detained, in Moscow or anywhere else. It’s under wraps, as our American cousins would say. The interesting thing is that Moscow believes the SoJ to be organised in non-intercognisant cells. The interrogation appears to have brought out a method of getting into the main Russian cell who are expecting a visit from two British members known only by cryptos.’

‘And they’re suggesting that Pete and I take the trip?’ Bond’s right eyebrow shot upwards.

M nodded like a wise old Buddha. ‘Mmmm,’ he said.

‘But somebody, with all due respect, sir, somebody within the main Russian cell will be able to make a physical identification, surely?’

‘Mmmmm.’ M again made the sound of a happy bee on a sunny afternoon. He seemed oblivious to the unspoken peril. Then, ‘I did warn you, 007. I did say that this was a mite dangerous. If you want out, you only have to say.’

‘I’d personally like to know the chances of success.’ Bond rarely minded putting his life or career on the line, but he preferred to know the odds.

M spread his hands. ‘If KGB are telling me the truth, and I have no real reason either to believe or disbelieve them, you’ll be monitored all the way. The idea appears to be that you’ll become stalking-horses. They will, I am promised, keep you under surveillance every inch of the journey.’

‘I’ve been known to throw KGB surveillance in the past.’

‘That you have, 007. But this time the trick will be to keep them with you.’ He turned to Natkowitz. ‘Are you willing to do this?’