Kremlin Conspiracy

by Brian Freemantle

  It was Bell who spoke first. ‘The proposals are interesting and the intention to create a world-wide monitoring system a valid one,’ he said. ‘I am unsure of the diplomatic propriety of approaching the Soviet Union.’

  It was a good political point, admitted Pike, opening the door for other representatives at the conference to make stronger objections.

  ‘Diplomatic propriety isn’t a factor,’ rejected his father at once. ‘The IMF comes within the aegis of the United Nations. The Soviet Union is a member of the United Nations. The fact that the approach will come from the IMF frees anyone here of diplomatic difficulty.’

  Which was a better political point, thought Pike: the pre-conference planning was justifying itself.

  ‘By coincidence,’ said Sir Herbert Course, from across the room, ‘the IMF suggestions are very much in line with those which the Bank of England had intended putting forward …’ He paused and then said, ‘The thinking was to create the monitor centre through the Bank in London, although I concede the sense of centralizing it through the Fund …’

  He’d beaten Burnham, Pike decided. The British group were quiet now, no one speaking: Jane was staring down at the table in front of her, apparently engrossed.

  ‘The idea of an approach to Moscow has validity also, but shouldn’t it come through one of the central banks involved in the existing rescheduling requests?’

  Which meant the Bank of England, which meant Paul Burnham, thought Pike. He tensed against his father’s response.

  ‘Your bank, for instance?’

  Course smiled at the IMF controller’s question. ‘We are involved,’ he said. ‘And we do have considerable experience.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that allow for the diplomatic uncertainty that Secretary Bell has already raised?’

  ‘It would be a bank approach, absolutely non-political,’ insisted Course.

  Beneath the protection of the table Pike wiped his hands against the edge of his trousers, conscious of the perspiration: his father was taking a softer line than he should have done.

  ‘It would be necessary, of course, to discuss it with your government?’ said the IMF director.

  ‘Involved as I am in this meeting, I would naturally raise the issue within the Cabinet,’ the British chancellor intervened.

  ‘Which would create delay?’

  Perhaps his father wasn’t being too soft, exposing the drawbacks one by one.

  ‘Minimal,’ insisted Wilder.

  ‘The IMF is an international organization, a composite through its committees and structure of 146 countries,’ reminded the elder Pike. ‘The Bank of England is one central bank, properly but primarily responsible to its own country. We gathered because the possible difficulties were international, not concentrated in one country. I think international difficulties should be resolved through international bodies. If we agree today to the Bank of England making its representations, then surely we should agree to the central bank of France making an approach. And that of Germany. Every country, in fact. And so we would lose the point of centralization which Sir Herbert has already deemed necessary.’

  Brilliant, decided Pike, losing any reservation at his father’s handling: the prod to national rivalries had been superbly subtle.

  Pierre Larousse, for the French contingent, responded: ‘I would first like to thank the IMF for the intimation of help in meeting the Hungarian problem,’ said the man. ‘On behalf of French bankers here today I would like to congratulate the Fund and its managing director on the forethought and validity of the proposals that have been put forward. Again on behalf of those bankers I would like to say that we would have every confidence in the Fund making the approach to Moscow….’ He turned slightly towards the British. ‘That is not, of course, an indication that we lack confidence in our British colleagues. It is simply that we see this as a global, not a national matter.’

  The insularity jibe had been as subtle as his father’s thrust, decided Pike, looking at the discomforted British. Handshakes last night, arm’s length today, he thought.

  The American Treasury Secretary moved at the praise of the man trying to unseat him. ‘Are we not moving with too many assumptions?’ he said. ‘Isn’t there a risk of humiliation if Moscow rejects an IMF approach?’

  The IMF managing director didn’t reply immediately, allowing a silence to heighten the rebuff: Pike wondered if the slight, but clearly perceptible, headshaking was going too far. ‘As I tried to make clear in my opening remarks, it will be an invitation,’ he said, measuring his words. ‘If there is a rejection, then it will be to the IMF, not to an individual government: another argument in favour of giving the Fund the responsibility. And let us not overlook the fact that we are in a dominant position: we’re the lenders, they’re the debtors. The ultimate move is ours in declaring default.’

  Bell was clearly embarrassed by the other American’s patronizing attitude. ‘Default is an empty threat,’ he said too quickly. ‘We all know the Western banking system couldn’t withstand what that would mean.’

  ‘Could the Eastern bloc?’ demanded Pike’s father. ‘It’s a poker game, I agree. But we’ve always got the last call.’

  ‘At the beginning of this morning’s conference the managing director of the IMF commented that there was little need for protracted discussion because we were all far too well acquainted with the problems.’ said Luigi Gambino, the Italian spokesman. ‘I agree. I’d like to propose, therefore, a vote from the member countries represented here today on what I consider a commendable suggestion that the IMF should approach the Soviet Union directly. And recommend also that the Interim Committee gives serious and immediate consideration to the establishment of a central monitoring system.’

  The debate continued, however, for a further hour, though without any fresh or contrary proposals, individual delegations merely wanting to be seen to be contributing their views. The vote was taken first on referring the proposal for a centralized fund for consideration by the Interim Committee, then upon standby finance for Britain, France and Germany. Both were unanimous. So was the decision to make the IMF responsible for the contact with Russia, though Pike noticed the British were the last to record their agreement.

  The ending of the conference was as disorganized as it had been the previous day, with individual bankers crowding around his father to offer congratulations: Pike was conscious of the Treasury Secretary and Harry Ambersom being jostled away, on the outside of the circle.

  He didn’t see Jane approach. She was just suddenly in front of him, red with anger.

  ‘Bastard!’ she said, her voice controlled against being overheard. ‘You absolute bastard. You used everything I told you last night … turned everything to your own advantage….’ Her control faltered in her rage, so that the words blocked. ‘Bastard …’ she repeated.

  ‘I want you a marry me,’ cut off Pike.

  The sanatorium was the most exclusive in New York State approved by the courts, a solid, brick-built mansion secluded in an estate of hills and trees. Janet was allocated a suite on the second floor – a living-room, separate bedroom and a bathroom. The matron who showed her to it allowed her time to unpack and then returned to take her to the first interview. The doctor was a small, rumpled man who wore tweeds and played with a pipe he never attempted to light. Janet thought it odd he felt the need for his name – Harris – to be displayed on a plaque on his desk. She wondered what the initials D. S. stood for.

  ‘I hope you’re going to be comfortable here,’ he said.

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  Harris looked down at the pipe. ‘I suppose so,’ he said. ‘You could always go back to the courts and ask them to nominate somewhere else.’

  ‘Which would probably be the psychiatric wing of a prison.’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘What do I have to do?’ asked Janet.

  ‘Learn to stop wanting heroin.’

  ‘I’m not an addict!’

  ‘I’m glad
to hear it,’ said the man. ‘That should make it easy.’ He put the pipe on his desk. ‘Were you shooting up every day?’

  ‘No,’ she said at once.

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure!’

  ‘So you won’t want any methadone?’ asked Harris.

  ‘Is one better than the other?’

  ‘Methadone isn’t addictive: it helps.’

  ‘No,’ said Janet. ‘I don’t want any methadone.’

  He picked the pipe up again. ‘There’ll be a full medical examination, of course; that’s routine.’

  ‘What about a psychiatric examination?’

  ‘If we feel it’s necessary: it’ll just be general observation for a week or two.’

  ‘Under surveillance!’

  He smiled at her. ‘That makes it sound worse than it is. There’s one thing I want you to promise me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘If you feel the need, tell someone. Don’t do anything silly like trying to leave the hospital and make your way back to New York, to score there. If you do, that’ll be a breach of the court order. And you won’t be able to stay here. We try to work from the basis of trust, right from the start.’

  Janet looked at the windows. ‘I wondered where the bars were.’

  ‘This isn’t a mental hospital,’ he said. ‘Is there anything you’d like to know?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Why do you keep playing with that damned pipe?’

  Harris smiled again. ‘I’m trying to give up smoking,’ he said. ‘It isn’t easy.’

  Chapter 29

  Pike wanted to collect Jane from the Jefferson but she refused, instead arriving at the Mayflower with her luggage. Pike had checked out and was waiting for her. They packed the car at once but it was still late by the time they set off for the country.

  ‘The traffic is always heavy on a Friday,’ he said. ‘It’ll take some time.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘I want to talk. They’ve started an enquiry into a leak.’

  ‘Is that why you wouldn’t let me collect you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded.

  ‘It didn’t come from you,’ he insisted.

  ‘There’s no way I can prove that, is there? Or that they’ll believe me?’

  ‘Have you been asked?’

  ‘Sir Herbert called a meeting back at the hotel,’ she said. ‘We were all asked.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  She didn’t answer at once. ‘Nothing,’ she said.

  ‘That isn’t a lie: it didn’t come from you.’

  ‘Feels like a lie.’

  Pike turned over the Memorial Bridge, towards Rosslyn. ‘It’ll blow over,’ he said.

  She shook her head. ‘Paul said he was determined to run it down.’ She hesitated and said, ‘He was waiting for me when I got back to the hotel last night.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Said he wanted to be sure I got back safely.’

  ‘Does he know you were with me?’

  ‘Of course not: there would hardly have been the need for an enquiry if he’d known that, would there?’

  ‘What was said about your not returning with the main party?’

  ‘Paul wanted to know where I was going.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Just that I was staying with friends.’

  Pike got on to the Beltway, settling in the centre lane. The direct approach had been his idea. And he’d discussed a central monitor with his father before talking about it with Jane. ‘He’s being petty,’ Pike insisted. ‘It was logical for everything to be handled by the IMF.’

  ‘His feeling is that the Fund misinterpreted the situation before.’

  ‘Arrogant bastard!’ exploded Pike. ‘Who are among the most exposed? British clearing banks, that’s who. If he was so sure of himself, why’s it been allowed to develop to the point it has? He could have stopped it months ago, before a warning would have created any problems.’

  ‘He was in the minority,’ reminded Jane. ‘He tried.’

  ‘So the Bank of England misinterpreted it too, if a misinterpretation has been made at all?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ she said.

  ‘Shouldn’t we be talking about something else more important?’ he said.

  ‘You confused me,’ she said. ‘I was going to say this morning that I never wanted to see you again.’

  ‘You’ve come away with me for the weekend!’ he said.

  ‘I told you that you confused me.’

  ‘It’s a pretty simple question,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Don’t you love me?’

  Jane had turned from looking directly across the car at him, looking now through the windscreen at the lights of the commuter traffic kaleidoscoped around them. ‘You’ve never said you loved me,’ she said. ‘Not the actual word.’

  ‘I didn’t think I had to.’

  ‘And you call Paul Burnham arrogant!’

  ‘I love you,’ he said.

  They reached the slip-road before she spoke. ‘I think I love you too,’ she said.

  ‘That still isn’t a reply.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’

  ‘So to hell with Paul Burnham,’ said Pike.

  There was the inevitable house party and they were among the last to arrive. His mother was in her dressing-room so Pike took Jane there, introduced her and made the announcement. His mother kissed Jane, then summoned her husband and the four of them stood awkwardly in the room, no one sure what to say.

  ‘Don’t be offended,’ said Mrs Pike. ‘But I’m surprised.’

  ‘I’m not offended,’ said Jane. ‘I’m surprised too.’

  Chapter 30

  To get away from the house party they went riding, Pike enjoying the role of guide. He took her along the floor of the valley and then up through the trees to the rise beyond, eventually to the plateau from which there was the best view of the house and the countryside beyond.

  ‘That way is Maryland,’ he said, pointing. ‘That way is West Virginia and to the south is North Carolina, which sounds a bit illogical but isn’t.’

  ‘Do you think your parents approve?’

  Pike didn’t answer at once. ‘Like my mother said, I think they’re surprised,’ he said. ‘Give them time.’

  ‘We’re both going to need that.’

  ‘Why?’

  Jane shrugged, letting her horse graze. ‘There’s so much to think about,’ she said. ‘Where are we going to live, for instance? Are you going to be in Europe? Or here, in America?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Pike. ‘Europe for a while, I guess: eventually here.’ Although he was concealing it better, Pike was as uncertain as Jane what their marriage would involve: he still wasn’t completely sure what had prompted him to blurt out the proposal at all, without more consideration. He was glad he had: if he hadn’t, he knew he would have lost her. Maybe back to Burnham.

  ‘I suppose it’ll mean leaving the Bank.’

  ‘Will you mind?’ he said.

  She didn’t reply at once. ‘It meant a lot to me, proving I was able enough to do it,’ she said.

  ‘There’s no need to quit, not immediately,’ he said. He moved the horses on, riding parallel to the ridge.

  ‘When will we get married?’ she said. ‘And where?’

  ‘Whenever you want,’ he said. ‘There’s no need to wait, is there?’

  ‘What about the Russian thing: aren’t you going to be involved in that?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Pike. ‘I haven’t spoken to my father about it yet.’

  ‘Maybe we should wait until that’s sorted out.’

  ‘It could take months,’ said Pike. He saw another group from the house making their way along the valley floor, too far away for him to identify who they were.

  ‘I don’t want to wait months,’ said Jane at once. ‘Just a little while.’

  ‘I haven’t bought y
ou a ring yet.’

  ‘I’ll have to go back tomorrow,’ said Jane. ‘I only told them I was going to spend the weekend here.’

  ‘We’ll buy one in London then.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘As soon as I can get back.’

  ‘This is going to be a pretty funny courtship, isn’t it?’

  He looked at her and realized she was joking. ‘I can come for weekends if I’m kept here.’

  ‘Trying to impress me again?’

  ‘If I can,’ he admitted.

  ‘There’s only Ann and Harry on my side,’ said Jane. ‘I suppose we should get married here, where your parents are.’

  ‘They’d probably like that.’

  Jane gestured towards the far away mansion. ‘Is it always like this?’ she said. ‘Big gatherings?’

  ‘My father seems to enjoy them,’ he said. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘It’s a long time since I attended one. My parents used to give them quite often in India, but nothing like this. And I was young, home from England on holidays.’

  ‘You didn’t say whether you liked them.’

  ‘I was wondering about being a hostess,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to fail you.’

  He frowned at the unexpected inferiority. ‘That’s a strange thing to say.’

  She immediately regretted her words because it hadn’t been how she wanted to begin. ‘Maybe I’m still getting over the shock,’ she said. That was wrong, too: that was avoiding the issue she wanted to confront. She was riding behind him, was glad he couldn’t see her face. ‘What happened?’ she said at last. ‘The first time.’

  He reined back, level with her, not initially understanding. Then he realized and said, ‘With Janet?’

  She nodded, wishing he’d remained in front.

  ‘I told you,’ he said. ‘It was one of those understood things, between families: no one really considered whether we wanted to …’ He let the sentence trail. Was it fair, to replay the recorded message? ‘… and I guess neither of us tried very hard.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘We played around; did silly things. We were both young.’