Bagley, Desmond - The Enemy Page 13

  CHAPTER TWENTY I expected my report on that to bring action but I didn't expect it to bring Ogilvie. I telephoned him at three in the afternoon and he was in my room just before midnight, and four other men from the department were scattered about the hotel. Ogilvie drained me dry, and I ended up by saying, 'Henty and I did the same this evening with the man following Benson. He went back to a flat on Upplandsgatan. On checking, he proved to be a commercial attaché at the Russian Embassy.' Ogilvie was uncharacteristically nervous and indecisive. He paced the room as a tiger paces its cage, his hands clasped behind his back; then he sat in a chair with a thump. 'Damn it all to hell!' he said explosively. 'I'm in two minds about this.' I waited, but Ogilvie did not enlarge on what was on either of his minds, so I said diffidently, 'What's the problem?' 'Look, Ashton hasn't given us what we expected when we sprung him from Russia. Oh, he's done a lot, but in a purely commercial way—not the advanced scientific thought we wanted. So why the hell should we care if he plays silly buggers in Stockholm and attracts the attention of the Russians?' Looked at in a cold and calculating way that was a good question. Ogilvie said, 'I'd wash my hands of him—let the Russians take him—but for two things. The first is that I don't know why he ran, and the hell of it is that the answer might be quite unimportant. It's probably mere intellectual curiosity on my part, and the taxpayer shouldn't be expected to finance that. This operation is costing a packet.' He stood up and began to pace again. 'The second thing is that I can't get that empty vault out of my mind. Why did he build it if he didn't intend to use it? Have you thought of that, Malcolm?' 'Yes, but I haven't got very far.' Ogilvie sighed. 'Over the past months I've read and reread Ashton's file until I've become cross-eyed. I've been trying to get into the mind of the man. Did you know it was he who suggested taking over the persona of a dead English soldier?' 'No. I thought it was Cregar's idea.' 'It was Chelyuskin. As I read the file I began to see that he works by misdirection like a conjurer. Look at how he got out of Russia. I'm more and more convinced that the vault is another bit of misdirection.' 'An expensive bit,' I said. 'That wouldn't worry Ashton—he's rolling in money. If he's got something, he's got it somewhere else.' I was exasperated. 'So why did he build the safe in the first place?' 'To tell whoever opened it that they'd reached the end of the line. That there are no secrets. As I say—misdirection.' 'It's all a bit fanciful,' I said. I was tired because it was late and I'd been working hard all day. Hammering the ice-slippery streets of Stockholm with my feet wasn't my idea of pleasure, and I was past the point of coping with Ogilvie's fantasies about Ashton. I tried to bring him to the point by saying, 'What do we do about Ashton now?' He was the boss and he had to make up his mind. 'How did the Russians get on to Ashton here?' 'How would I know?' I shrugged. 'My guess is that they got wind of a free-spending fellow countryman unknown to Moscow, so they decided to take a closer look at him. To their surprise they found he's of great interest to British Intelligence. That would make them perk up immediately.' 'Or, being the suspicious lot they are, they may have been keeping tabs on the British Embassy as a matter of routine and been alerted by the unaccustomed activity of Cutler and his mob, who're not the brightest crowd of chaps.' Ogilvie shrugged. 'I don't suppose it matters how they found out; the fact is that they have. They're on to Koslov but have not, I think, made the transition to Ashton—and certainly not to Chelyuskin.' 'That's about it. They'll never get to Chelyuskin. Who'd think of going back thirty years?' 'Their files go back further, and they'll have Chelyuskin's fingerprints. If they ever do a comparison with Koslov's prints they'll know it wasn't Chelyuskin who died in that fire. They'd be interested in that.' 'But is it likely?' 'I don't know.' He scowled in my direction but I don't think he saw me; he was looking through me. 'That Israeli passport is quite genuine,' he said. 'But stolen three years ago. The real Koslov is a Professor of Languages at the University of Tel Aviv. He's there right now, deciphering some scrolls in Aramaic.' 'Do the Israelis know about Koslov? That might be tricky.' 'I shouldn't think so,' he said absently. Then he shook his head irritatedly. 'You don't think much of my theories about Ashton, do you?' 'Not much.' The scowl deepened. 'Neither do I,' he admitted. 'It's just one big area of uncertainty. Right. We can do one of two things. We can pull out and leave Ashton to sink or swim on his own; or we can get him out ourselves.' Ogilvie looked at me expectantly. I said, 'That's a policy decision I'm not equipped to make. But I do have a couple of comments. First, any interest the Russians have in Ashton has been exacerbated by ourselves, and I consider we have a responsibility towards him because of that. For the rest—what I've seen of Ashton I've liked and, God willing, I'm going to marry his daughter. I have a personal reason for wanting to get him out which has nothing to do with guessing what he's been doing with his peculiar mind.' Ogilvie nodded soberly. 'Fair enough. That leaves it up to me. If he really has something and we leave him for the Russians then I'll have made a big mistake. If we bring him out, risking an international incident because of the methods we may have to use, and he has nothing, then I'll have made a big mistake. But the first mistake would be bigger than the second, so the answer is that we bring him out. The decision is made.'

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Ogilvie had brought with him Brent, Gregory, Michaelis and, to my surprise, Larry Godwin, who looked very chipper because not only had he got away from his desk but he'd gone foreign. We had an early morning conference to discuss the nuts and bolts of the operation. Earlier I had again tackled Ogilvie. 'Why don't I approach Ashton and tell him the Russians are on to him? That would move him.' 'In which direction?' asked Ogilvie. 'If he thought for one moment that British Intelligence was trying to manipulate him I wouldn't care to predict his actions. He might even think it better to go back to Russia. Homesickness is a Russian neurosis.' 'Even after thirty years?' Ogilvie shrugged. 'The Russians are a strange people. And have you thought of his attitude to you? He'd immediately jump to wrong conclusions—I won't risk the explosion. No, it will have to be some other way.' Ogilvie brought the meeting to order and outlined the problem, then looked about expectantly. There was a lengthy pause while everyone thought about it. Gregory said, 'We have to separate him from the Russians before we can do anything at all.' 'Are we to assume he might defect to Russia?' asked Brent. 'Not if we're careful,' said Ogilvie. 'But it's a possibility. My own view is that he might even be scared of the Russians if he knew they were watching him.' Brent threw one in my direction. 'How good are the Russians here?' 'Not bad at all,' I said. 'A hell of a lot better than Cutler's crowd.' 'Then it's unlikely they'll make a mistake,' he said glumly. 'I thought if he knew the Russians were on to him he might cut and run. That would give us the opportunity for a spoiling action.' Ogilvie said, 'Malcolm and I have discussed that and decided against it.' 'Wait a minute,' I said, and turned to Larry. 'How good is your conversational Russian?' 'Not bad,' he said modestly. 'It will have to be better than not bad,' I warned. 'You might have to fool a native Russian.' I didn't tell him Ashton was a Russian. He grinned. 'Which regional accent do you want?' Ogilvie caught on. 'I see,' he said thoughtfully. 'If the Russians don't make a mistake we make it for them. I'll buy that.' We discussed it for a while, then Michaelis said, 'We'll need a back-up scheme. If we're going to take him out against his will we'll need transport, a safe house and possibly a doctor.' That led to another long discussion in which plans were hammered out and roles allocated. Kidnapping a man can be complicated. 'What about Benson?' asked Gregory. 'Is he included in the deal?' 'I rather think so," said Ogilvie. 'I'm becoming interested in Benson. But the primary target is Ashton. If it ever comes to a choice between taking Ashton or Benson, then drop Benson.' He turned to Michaelis. 'How long do you need?' 'If we use Plan Three we don't need a house, and the closed van I can hire inside an hour. But I'll have to go to Helsingborg or Malmo to arrange for the boat and that will take time. Say three days.' 'How long to cross the strait to Denmark?' 'Less than an hour; you can nearly spit across it. But someone will have to organize a receiving committee in Den
mark.' 'I'll do that.' Ogilvie stood up and said with finality, 'Three days, then; and we don't tell Cutler anything about it.' Three days later the operation began as planned and started well. The situation in Gamla Stan was becoming positively ridiculous: two of Cutler's men were idling away their time in antique shops ready for the emergence of Ashton and Benson and unaware that they were being watched by a couple of Russians who, in their turn, were not aware of being under the surveillance of the department. It could have been a Peter Sellers comedy. Each of our men was issued with a miniature walkie-talkie with strict instructions to stay off the air unless it was absolutely necessary to pass on the word. We didn't want to alert the Swedes that an undercover operation was under way; if they joined in there'd be so many secret agents in those narrow streets there'd be no room for tourists. I sat in my car, strategically placed to cover the bridges leading from Gamla Stan to the central city area, and kept a listening watch. Ogilvie stayed in his room in the hotel next to the telephone. At ten-thirty someone came on the air. 'Bluebird Two. Redbird walking north along Vasterlanggatan.' Ashton was coming my way so I twisted in my seat to look for him. Presently he rounded the corner and walked up the road next to the Royal Palace. He passed within ten feet of me, striding out briskly. I watched him until he turned to go over Helgeandsholmen by way of Norrbro, then switched on the car engine. Ahead I saw Larry slide out of his parking place and roll along to turn on to Norrbro. His job was to get ahead of Ashton. I followed behind, passing Ashton who was already carrying a tail like a comet, crossed Norrbro and did a couple of turns around Gustav Adolfs Torg, making sure that everything was in order. I saw Gregory leave his parking place to make room for Larry; it was important that Larry should be in the right place at the right time. Michaelis was reserving a place further west should Ashton have decided to go into town via the Vasabron. I switched on my transmitter and said to him, 'Bluebird Four to Bluebird Three; you may quit.' At that point I quit myself because there was nothing left to do—everything now depended on Larry. I drove the short distance to the Grand Hotel, parked the car, and went to Ogilvie's room. He was nervous under his apparent placidity. After a few minutes' chat he said abruptly, 'Do you think Godwin is up to it? He's not very experienced.' 'And he never will be if he's not given the chance.' I smiled. 'He'll be all right. Any moment from now he'll be giving his celebrated imitation of an inexperienced KGB man. From that point of view his inexperience is an asset.' Time wore on. At twelve-thirty Ogilvie had smorgasbord sent up to the room. 'We might as well eat. If anything breaks you'll be eating on the run from now on.' At five to one the telephone rang. Ogilvie handed me a pair of earphones before he picked up the receiver. It was Brent, who said, 'Redbird is lunching at the Opera—so am I and so is everyone else concerned. He's looking a bit jumpy.' 'How did Godwin handle first contact?' 'Redbird went into that corner bookshop on the Nybroplan. Godwin was standing next to him when he barked his shin on a shelf; Larry swore a blue streak in Russian and Redbird jumped a foot. Then Larry faded out as planned.' 'And then?' 'Redbird wandered around for a bit and then came here. I saw him get settled, then signalled Larry to come in. He took a table right in front of Redbird who looked worried when he saw him. Larry has just had a hell of a row with a waiter in very bad, Russian-accented Swedish—all very noisy. Redbird is definitely becoming uncomfortable.' 'How are the others taking it?' The real Russians look bloody surprised. Cutler's chap . . . wait a minute.' After a pause Brent chuckled. 'Cutler's chap is heading for the telephones right now. I think he wants to report that the Russians have arrived. I think I'll let him have this telephone.' 'Stay with it,' said Ogilvie. 'Stick to Ashton.' He replaced the receiver and looked up. 'It's starting.' 'Everything is ready,' I said soothingly. I picked up the telephone and asked the hotel operator to transfer my calls to Ogilvie's room. We had not long to wait. The telephone rang and I answered. Cutler said, 'Jaggard, there may be an important development.' 'Oh,' I said seriously. 'What's that?' 'My man with Ashton seems to think the Russians are interested.' 'In Ashton?' 'That's right.' 'Oh. That's bad! Where is Ashton now?' 'Lunching at the Opera. Shall I put someone on to the Russian? There may be time.' Ogilvie had the earphone to his ear and shook his head violently. I grinned, and said, 'I think not. In fact I think you'd better pull out all your men as soon as you can get word to them. You don't want the Russians to know you're on to Ashton, do you?' 'My God, no I—' said Cutler quickly. 'We can't have the Embassy involved. I'll do as you say at once.' He rang off, seemingly relieved. Ogilvie grunted. 'The man's an idiot. He's well out of it.' 'It does clear the field,' I said, and put on my jacket. 'I'm going over to Gamla Stan for the beginning of the second act. If Larry does his stuff we should get a firm reaction from Ashton,' I paused. 'I don't like doing it this way, you know. I'd much prefer we talk to him.' 'I know,' said Ogilvie sombrely. 'But your preferences don't count. Get on with it, Malcolm.' So I got on with it. I went to Gamla Stan and met Henty in a bar-restaurant in Vasterlanggatan, joining him in a snack of herring and aquavit. He had been watching the flat, so I said, 'Where's Benson?' 'Safe at home. His Russian is still with him but Cutler's boy has vanished. Maybe Benson lost him.' 'No. Cutler is no longer with us.' I described what had happened. Henty grinned. 'Something should break any moment then.' He finished his beer and stood up. 'I'd better get back.' 'I'll come with you.' As we left I said, 'You're our Swedish expert. Supposing Ashton makes a break—how can he do it?' 'By air from Bromma or Arlanda, depending on where he's going. He can also take a train. He doesn't have a car.' 'Not that we know of. He could also leave by sea.' Henty shook his head. 'At this time of year I doubt it. There's a lot of ice in the Baltic this year—the Saltsjon was frozen over this morning. It plays hell with their schedules. If I were Ashton I wouldn't risk it; he could get stuck on a ship which didn't move for hours.' The bone conduction contraption behind my ear came to life. 'Bluebird Two. Redbird by Palace heading for Vasterlanggaitan and moving fast.' Bluebird Two was Brent. I said to Henty, 'He's coming now. You go on ahead, spot him and tag that bloody Russian. I don't want Ashton to see me.' He quickened his pace while I slowed down, strolling from one shop window to the next. Presently there came the news that Ashton was safely back home, and then Henty came back with Larry Godwin. Both were grinning, and Henty remarked, 'Ashton's in a muck-sweat.' I said to Larry, 'What happened?' 'I followed Ashton from the Opera—very obviously. He tried to shake me; in fact, he did shake me twice, but Brent was able to steer me back on course.' Henty chuckled. 'Ashton came along Vasterlanggatan doing heel-and-toe as though he was in a walking race, with Godwin trying hard for second place. He went through his doorway like a rabbit going down a hole.' 'Did you speak to him, Larry?' 'Well, towards the end I called out, "Grazhdaninu Ashton—ostanovites!" as though I wanted him to stop. It just made him go faster.' I smiled slightly. I doubt if Ashton relished being called 'citiz en' in Russian, especially when coupled with his English name. 'The ball is now in Ashton's court, but I doubt he'll move before nightfall. Larry, go and do an ostentatious patrol before Ashton's flat. Be a bit haphazard—reappear at irregular intervals.' I had a last word with Henty, and then did the rounds, checking that every man was in his place and the Russians were covered. After that I reported by telephone to Ogilvie. Larry caught up with me in about an hour. 'One of those bloody Russians tackled me,' he said. 'He asked me what the hell I thought I was doing.' 'In Russian?' 'Yes. I asked him for his authority and he referred me to a Comrade Latiev in the Russian Embassy. So I got a bit shirty and told him that Latiev's authority had been superseded, and if Latiev didn't know that himself he was even more stupid than Moscow thought. Then I said I didn't have time to waste and did a quick disappearing act.' 'Not bad,' I said. 'It ought to hold Comrade Latiev for a while. Any reaction from the flat?' 'A curtain did twitch a bit.' 'Okay. Now, if Ashton makes his break I don't want him to see you—we don't want to panic him more than necessary. Take over Gregory's car, ask him what the score is, and send him to me.' It was a long wait and a cold wait
. The snow came down steadily and, as darkness fell, a raw mist swept over Gamla Stan from the Riddarfjarden, haloing the street lights and cutting down visibility. I spent the time running over and over in my mind the avenues of escape open to Ashton and wondering if my contingency planning was good enough. With Henty there were six of us, surely enough to take out the two Russians and still keep up with Ashton wherever he went. As the mist thickened I thought of the possibility of taking Ashton there and then, but thought better of it. A quiet kidnapping in a major city is hard enough at the best of times and certainly not the subject for improvisation. Better to follow the plan and isolate Ashton. It happened at ten to nine. Gregory reported Ashton and Benson on Lilla Nygatan moving south, and both had bags. Michaelis chipped in and said that both Russians were also on the move. I summoned up my mental map of Gamla Stan and concluded that our targets were heading for the taxi rank on the Centralbron, so I ordered the cars south ready to follow. More interestingly, on the other side of the Centralbron, in the main city, was Stockholm's Central Railway Station. Then I ordered Michaelis and Henty, our best strong-arm men, to take the Russians out of the game. They reported that, because of the mist, it was easy and that two Russians would have sore heads the following morning. After that things became a bit confused. When Ashton and Benson reached the taxi rank they took separate cabs, Benson going over the Centralbron towards the railway station, and Ashton going in the dead opposite direction towards Sodermalm. Larry followed Benson, and Brent went after Ashton. I got busy and ordered the rest of the team to assemble at the railway station which seemed the best bet under the circumstances. At the station I stayed in the car and sent in Henty to find out if Larry was around. He came back with Larry who got into the car, and said, 'Benson bought two tickets for Goteborg.' They were heading west. From my point of view that was a relief; better west than east. I said, 'When does the train leave?' Larry checked his watch. 'In a little over half an hour. I bought us four tickets—and I got a timetable.' I studied the timetable and thought out loud. 'First stop—Sodertalje; next stop—Eskilstuna. Right.' I gave a ticket each to Gregory and Henty. 'You two get on that train; spot Ashton and Benson and report back by radio. Then stick with them.' They went into the station, and Larry said, 'What do we do?' 'You and I lie as low as Br'er Rabbit,' I turned to Michaelis. 'Scout around in the station and see if you can spot Ashton. Make sure he's on that train when it leaves, then come back here.' He went away and I wondered how Brent was getting on. Presently Gregory radioed in. 'We're on the train—spotted Redbird Two—but no Redbird One.' We'd lost Ashton. 'Stay with it.' The time ticked by. At five minutes to train-time I became uneasy, wondering what had happened to Ashton. At two minutes to train-time Brent pitched up. 'I lost him,' he said hollowly. 'Where did he go?' 'He went bloody island-hopping—Sodermalm—Langholmen—Kungsholmen; that's where I lost him. He seemed to be heading in this general direction at the time so I took a chance and came here.' 'We haven't seen him and he's not on the train so far. Benson is, though; with two tickets to Goteborg.' 'When does it leave?' I looked over his shoulder and saw Michaelis coming towards the car. He was shaking his head. I said, 'It's just left—and Ashton wasn't on it.' 'Oh, Christ! What do we do now?' 'The only thing we can do—stick with Benson and pray. And this is how we do it. Get yourself a timetable like this one, and check the stops of that train. You and Michaelis take the first stop—that's Sodertalje, you check with Gregory and Henty on the train and you team up if Benson gets off. You also report to Ogilvie. In the meantime Larry and I will be heading for the next stop at Eskilstuna—same procedure. And we leapfrog up the line until the train arrives at Goteborg or anything else happens. Got that?' 'Okay.' 'Reporting to Ogilvie is very important because he can keep us all tied in. I'm going to ring him now.' Ogilvie wasn't at all pleased but he didn't say much—not then. I told him how I was handling it and he just grunted. 'Carry on—and keep me posted.' I went back to the car, slumped into the passenger's seat, and said to Larry, 'Drive to Eskilstuna—and beat that train.'