Traitor's Gait

by Geoffrey Osborne

‘If you’ll shut up for a minute, I’ll tell you.’

  He paused for a moment, marshalling his thoughts.

  ‘The task assigned to SS(O)S was to get full details of the space bomb. So I called for a report from Zeleransky. He told me about the research station, but added that it would be virtually impossible for an unauthorised person to get inside. That being the case, he offered to do the job himself, since he was well known there.

  ‘I considered this, of course, but decided that it was too risky. Once the Russians realised that the West had the secrets of their bomb, they’d start a massive inquiry. Zeleransky would be bound to be blown and we’d have to pull him out. I didn’t want that. He’s far too useful to us where he is.

  ‘So I had to find another way, and it was the reference in Zeleransky’s report to “an unauthorised person” that gave me the answer. I decided to make Glyn Jones an authorised person, trusted by the KGB.’

  The Director leaned back, looking pleased with himself, while Jones leaned forward in his chair and made a mock bow to Dingle.

  ‘All right. I see that,’ began Dingle. ‘But why …’

  ‘Let me finish,’ thundered the Director. ‘Now where was I? Ah, yes. I explained my idea fully to Glyn …’

  ‘Lucky man,’ muttered Dingle.

  ‘… And then I tried to plant the idea in your mind that he might not be too reliable,’ continued the Director frowning.

  ‘Very successfully, too,’ said Dingle.

  ‘Will you stop interrupting,’ the big man said irritably.

  ‘Before leaving London,’ he went on, ‘Glyn made contact with the Russian Embassy and told them that you and he were going after the space bomb secrets. He offered to go over to their side.

  ‘Naturally, the Russians were suspicious of the offer. They suspected a trap. The KGB met him as soon as he landed in Moscow and really put him through it. They wanted proof that Glyn’s offer was genuine.

  ‘After a while, he came up with the plan to deliver you into their hands and provide them with first-rate evidence at the same time.’

  The Director paused and looked dreamily up at the ceiling.

  ‘I thought that idea would appeal to Razina; and it did. They rigged up those telephone wires in the woods especially for you to tap. Everything went according to plan — and you were captured after being photographed in the act of robbing one of their top scientists of their country’s secrets.’

  ‘So the KGB were convinced that Jones was on the level,’ said Dingle bitterly. ‘But why couldn’t you have let me in on the secret? I really believed Glyn was a traitor.’

  ‘That was just the point,’ replied the SS(O)S chief. ‘I wanted your reactions to be absolutely natural. And in the event, the KGB were not fully convinced. Razina still thought it possible that you and Glyn were working together in some elaborate plot. So they decided to put you to the acid test.’

  ‘The gun?’

  ‘Exactly.’ The Director leaned forward and stared hard at Dingle.

  ‘Tell me, would you have fired that gun at Jones, fully believing that it was loaded, if you had known the true position?’

  Dingle swallowed.

  ‘No. I suppose not.’

  ‘Yet if you had ducked out of shooting at Jones, the whole plan would have failed.’

  ‘It was a blank cartridge, of course,’ said Dingle thoughtfully. ‘I see that now; but I really thought I’d killed him. Did you know it was a blank, Glyn?’ he asked, looking at the Welshman.

  ‘No I bloody well didn’t,’ said Jones feelingly. ‘I got the shock of my life when you pointed that gun at me. I knew you never missed your target, and I thought my last hour had come. When the thing went off I was sure I was dead, boyo. I passed out cold!’

  There was a knock on the door, and Miss Peach came in, wobbling on her high heels, tea cups rattling on a tray.

  ‘Don’t slop it in the saucers,’ the Director growled.

  *

  Dingle was more relaxed; the tension was easing out of him — and tiredness was taking over, swamping him in sickly, throbbing waves. His voice grated rustily.

  ‘There’s something wrong in all this. I appreciate that Zeleransky is too valuable to risk on a job like this; it’s our type of work, in fact. And I’m suitably grateful to you for arranging my own escape.

  ‘But what about Stakan, Yuri Minin and the girl, Nadia Rublyov? Were they just thrown away to ensure the success of the operation? Or did you get them out too? I didn’t see or hear anything of them after I was caught.’

  ‘We’d finished with them,’ said the Director.

  Dingle blazed with anger.

  ‘God!’ he shouted. ‘How callous can you get. There are times when I want to resign from this damned outfit — and this is one of them!’

  ‘Calm down, James, calm down.’

  The Director made vague soothing noises.

  ‘We’d only been using them, just as they were using us.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just as we try to infiltrate the KGB — Zeleransky is an example — so the KGB try to plant their agents on us. We recruited Stakan two years ago, knowing damn well he was one of Razina’s bright boys.

  ‘Glyn pretended that you and he had been instructed to work with Stakan; that enabled Glyn to betray Stakan as well as you, and so make his action look more genuine.’

  ‘What about Minin and the girl?’ asked Dingle.

  ‘We made Stakan responsible for recruiting his own team. He brought them in: both KGB.’

  ‘I see. I suppose the Leningrad man Glyn named was one of Razina’s agents, too.’

  The Director nodded.

  ‘Very neat,’ Dingle commented.

  The Director looked smug.

  Dingle turned to Jones.

  ‘While you were laying the trap for me, did Razina let you know that Stakan and his playmates belonged to him?’

  ‘Oh no, boyo,’ replied the Welshman. ‘And as far as Razina is aware, I still think Stakan is a SS(O)S man. A very devious lot we spies are. You never know who is your friend and who is your enemy.’

  ‘Quite.’ Dingle’s tone was sarcastic. ‘So that leaves me with only one question. Was it all worth it? Was the operation a success?’

  The Director looked smug again.

  ‘Entirely successful. Tell him how you did it, Glyn.’

  Dingle groaned.

  ‘Couldn’t you tell me, sir. Once he gets going there’s no stopping him; you’d think he was competing for the Bardic chair at an eisteddfod. And I’m too tired to listen to a long story.’

  The Welshman looked hurt.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I can take a hint. I’ll keep it short.’

  ‘Go on then,’ said Dingle wearily. ‘Never let it be said that I robbed you of your moment of glory.’

  ‘Well, I was already booked on the morning flight to London, see, on the day you were being transferred to Lubyanka — which was also when we planned to spring you. I’d persuaded Razina that I ought to get back quickly and report your capture and the failure of our mission. I told him that if I took too long in getting home, the Director would become suspicious, and then I wouldn’t be of much use to the KGB.

  ‘After that it was easy. While Razina, Herzen and I were setting the photographic trap for you, I became quite well known at the space research centre. In fact I became just what the Director ordered — an authorised person. The guards at the gate became accustomed to seeing me come and go; and I made it my business to get particularly pally with the commandant, Suvarov, and the scientist, Butovo.

  ‘I was in their company a lot, you see, explaining your method of working and your reactions to certain situations. I had to teach them how to act when they came face to face with you, to prevent you smelling a rat.’

  ‘You did a good job there,’ Dingle conceded.

  ‘At about the time Zeleransky was helping you to get away,’ Jo
nes continued, ‘I was on my way to the research centre …’

  *

  It was just a few minutes before seven when Jones’s hired car screeched to a halt outside the main gate of the space research station. It was still dark.

  He climbed quickly out of the car, glancing at his watch. If all had gone well, he guessed, Dingle should soon be arriving at Andrei Sergov’s flat.

  The sentry at the gate snapped to attention and saluted. He had no reason to doubt that Jones was a senior KGB officer. He had seen the Welshman in the company of Razina and Zeleransky.

  ‘Good morning, sir. May I see your pass, please?’

  ‘Don’t waste time man,’ snarled Jones, making no attempt to produce a pass. ‘There’s an emergency on. Is the guard commander in there?’ He nodded towards the guardroom.

  ‘Yes, sir, but …’

  Jones pushed rudely past the sentry.

  ‘I’ll send someone out soon to move my car inside and park it near the main laboratory block,’ he called over his shoulder.

  The sentry stared uncertainly after Jones, who stalked into the guardroom.

  The guard sergeant clambered awkwardly to his feet, trying to look fresh and alert; but it had been a long night and his red-rimmed eyes prickled with tiredness. There was still another hour to go before he went off duty.

  ‘Get the commandant here at the double,’ snapped Jones.

  ‘Yes, sir. What …’

  ‘At the double, I said!’

  The sergeant reached for the telephone and called Suvarov.

  When he had finished, Jones asked.

  ‘Has it been a quiet night, sergeant? No alarms?’

  ‘Yes, sir. No, Sir. I mean it’s been all quiet sir.’

  ‘I hope, for your sake sergeant that you’re right. I hope your sentries have been on their toes.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’m sure they have, sir.’

  ‘Get one of your men to bring my car in and park it near the laboratory. The rest of the guard detail can make a thorough check of the fence. Make sure there are no breaks in the wire.’

  The sergeant almost fell over his chair as he leaped to put the orders into effect.

  Suvarov arrived, panting and still buttoning up his tunic. He had evidently been shaving when the urgent summons to the guardroom came. One side of his face bristled darkly, the other was smooth, shining palely in the harsh glare of the electric light.

  Jones turned.

  ‘Good! You’ve arrived. There’s an emergency on. That English spy Dingle has escaped. Colonel Razina thinks it possible that he may make another attempt to raid the laboratory, and he has sent me to take charge of security here.’

  The shaven side of Suvarov’s face paled even more.

  ‘Do you think it likely, Comrade? Surely he wouldn’t dare …’

  ‘Of course it’s likely. He’s a very determined man. Order a full alert on this establishment; I want every available guard on duty.’

  ‘Yes comrade.’

  ‘And get Butovo out of bed. Tell him to join us immediately in his office; detail two guards to accompany us there.’ Jones turned to the sergeant and added: ‘If there are any phone calls for me, we’ll be in Comrade Butovo’s office.’

  He waited while Suvarov made the necessary internal telephone calls. Then the two men walked quickly across to the laboratory block. Two guards marched behind them.

  The Welshman noted with satisfaction that his car was already parked there. He glanced at his watch. Twenty past seven already. Dingle should be at Sergov’s place by now. Razina would have been informed of his escape. A wave of sick fear swept over him and his stomach muscles contracted into a tight knot. He prayed that Razina would not, in fact, consider it likely that Dingle would make for the research station. If he did think of it … if he rang on the “hot” line to alert Suvarov … if he heard that Jones was already out there …

  Suvarov interrupted his thoughts.

  ‘Here comes Comrade Butovo. He must have been up and dressed already.’

  The scientist joined them as they entered the main entrance to the laboratory block.

  ‘Comrade Suvarov told you what has happened?’ Jones.

  Butovo nodded.

  ‘Do you really think the Englishman will try? He wouldn’t stand a chance.’

  Jones shrugged.

  ‘We must be ready, just in case,’ he said, standing aside while the scientist unlocked his office door. ‘You’d better check your safe now. Make sure the FOBS file is still there.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Butovo spun the combination.

  ‘It’s here all right.’

  He held up the file for the Welshman to see, and ruffled the papers inside.

  ‘I’d better lock it up again.’

  Jones nodded.

  ‘Yes.’ He waited until the scientist was about to push the heavy doors shut, then added quickly: ‘Wait a minute. Dingle would guess that they are kept there. Do you have another safe nearby?’

  ‘There’s one in my secretary’s office, through there.’

  Jones peered round the adjoining door and looked at the small safe.

  ‘That would do. Can you get the key?’

  ‘I have one.’

  Butovo produced a key ring.

  ‘Good,’ said Jones. He picked up an empty folder. ‘Put the FOBS papers in here, and find some old, worthless papers to put in the file. Then lock it in your safe. I’ll put the real space bomb papers in your secretary’s safe.’

  ‘Is all this necessary,’ protested Suvarov. ‘After all, there are plenty of us here. If Dingle does come, we’ll be able to deal with him. He won’t even have time to get this safe open.’

  Jones stared at the commandant.

  ‘My job is security,’ he said icily. ‘I thought you were supposed to be an expert, too. Hasn’t it occurred to you that Dingle might have contacted other agents. He might have help. These British spies have all sorts of equipment these days — or hadn’t you heard?’

  Suvarov wilted under the biting sarcasm.

  ‘Just think,’ Jones went on. ‘It wouldn’t be impossible for two or three men to lob a simple knock-out gas bomb through the door, enter — wearing masks, of course — and overpower us. If that happened, and they opened the safe, at least they wouldn’t get what they came for.’

  His voice softened slightly. ‘I know it’s unlikely to happen. But I’m not taking any chances.’

  ‘Of course not, Comrade,’ said Suvarov respectfully. ‘You are quite right.’

  Jones turned swiftly to address the guards.

  ‘You two,’ he snapped. ‘Hide behind the curtains, one each side of the window.’

  The men leaped to obey.

  ‘Comrade Suvarov, you wait in that office across the corridor.’

  The commandant left the room, and Jones spoke to Butovo.

  ‘Give me the FOBS papers. I’ll lock them in your secretary’s safe, and then I’ll hide in that room. You lock the dummy papers in your safe, then sit at your desk and pretend to work.’ He raised his voice so that the others could hear. ‘I want absolute silence; there must be no talking.’

  Jones picked up the safe key, took the papers from the scientist and walked through into the secretary’s office. He locked the door behind him, and leaned with his back against it for a few moments, with his eyes shut, breathing deeply. His heart was thumping in his chest and he was beginning to sweat. He glanced at his watch, and noticed that his hand was trembling.

  The watch showed twenty-five minutes to eight. Time was running out. He moved over to the desk and spread out the papers. He took a miniature camera from his pocket and set it. Then he switched on the desk lamp, directed its powerful white pool of light down on to the papers and slowly, with great care, photographed every page.

  He had just finished when the shrill ring of the telephone in the next room startled him. He glanced at his watch: five to eight.
Hurriedly, Jones bundled all the papers into the folder and locked them in the safe.

  Butovo picked up the ’phone.

  ‘Butovo here,’

  ‘Is Captain Suvarov there? This is Colonel Razina.’

  ‘Yes, he’s here. I’ll get him for you …’ he called to the commandant, who came running in from the office on the opposite side of the passage.

  ‘Colonel? This is Suvarov. Are you on a secure line, sir?’

  ‘No I’m not. I’m outside, but it doesn’t matter. We’ve got a lead on our English friend and he seems to be heading north, not in your direction at all, so you can call off your full alert and start operating normal security routine. Will you tell …’

  Jones came in from the adjoining room and snatched the receiver from Suvarov.

  ‘Colonel? Any news?’

  The Welshman listened for a few moments. Andrei Sergov was doing a good job, with a very passable impersonation of Razina’s voice.

  ‘I’ll join you at once, sir,’ said Jones. He cradled the telephone receiver and smiled at the others.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Call off the alert. I’ve got to go now.’ He tossed the safe key over to Butova. ‘You can put the FOBS file back where it belongs.’

  It was just eight o’clock and getting light when the main gates closed behind Jones’s car. He had to return the car to the garage and be back at his hotel by nine. There was little traffic about, and he drove fast. He would have to risk being stopped for speeding.

  He reached the hotel just in time to collect his travel documents and meet the Intourist car that was taking him to the international airport.

  By the time the car drew up outside the departure lounge, Jones was beginning to breathe more easily. The hard ball of tension in his stomach was slowly dissolving. And then, inside the airport building, fear kicked him in the belly, constricting his breathing again and almost paralysing him with shock. He stood stock still, trying to manufacture a smile with stiff, frozen lips.

  ‘It was nice of you to come and see me off,’ he said.

  ‘I haven’t come to see you off,’ Razina said. ‘I’ve come to stop you leaving. Dingle’s escaped.’

  Jones had no difficulty in looking shocked.

  ‘When? How?’

  ‘A few hours ago. He tricked the guards. Come on.’