by Tony Walker
Vinogradov turned, surprised to be greeted in his native tongue. He replied, "Yes, how did you know?"
John smiled apologetically, "Your English. You have a slight Russian accent."
Vinogradov smiled back. "Of course. And you - your Russian's good, but you have a slight English accent."
"It's a long time since I had the opportunity to speak it."
"Well in that case it's lasted. Where did you learn it?"
"Here at University, but I lived for a year in Moscow."
Vinogradov turned to his English companions and excused himself for speaking Russian. They were accommodating and appeared interested in John and slightly suspicious. Vinogradov said to them, "Your countryman here has addressed me in my own language. Excuse us." Then he turned back to John. "I didn't know many Universities here offered Russian."
"Not many."
"Why did you choose to do it?"
"My teacher at school knew Russian. He learned it in the Army after the War."
"For the War that was coming?" he said sharply.
"For whatever reason. But, he was a great admirer of all things Russian,"
"Did you study literature?"
"Of course."
"Who did you like best?"
"Chekov I think- Dostoyevsky too."
"You prefer them to the later Soviet writers. So do I, though I am not supposed to say that of course," said Vinogradov. "I'm taking it you don't work for the KGB, so I should be safe. Though, perhaps not in the earshot of the comrades behind us. One of them might understand and report me."
"I sell maps," offered John.
"Maps? How fascinating. Maps are classified documents in the Soviet Union you know. I won't be buying any from you."
"I'm always looking for a new sales opportunity. Do you think there's an opening in Russia for maps?"
"You would get arrested. Mr?"
"My name is Richard McIntosh. I have a card. In case you change your mind."
"It's not my mind that needs to be changed. "
Richard offered Vinogradov the cover business card with his phone number on.
Vinogradov looked at it, studying it and then he said, "I'm heading back to London tonight,"
"Perhaps we could meet up there?" said John.
"Perhaps we could – along with your lady friend over there." He nodded over to where Ailsa was sitting.
John felt cold. Vinogradov smiled thinly. "I am glad you made contact with me Mr McIntosh. I have waited a long time. But you need to be more careful with your tradecraft. In Moscow this amateur work would get you killed."
Later in the car as they drove back to London, Ailsa was in high spirits. "We did it - good old us." John had told her what Vinogradov had said about shoddy tradecraft. She dismissed it. "We weren't in Moscow. There was no one watching us and it wasn't as if we needed to spend time cultivating him. He was a ripe plum ready to drop He had already signalled to us that he was interested in coming over."
John changed lanes. "Do you think this is a provocation?" he asked.
"Vinogradov being deliberately fed to us by the KGB? It's a possibility. I don't see why though. We just have to analyse the material he produces and see whether it's good stuff or chicken feed."
"Do you think he'll use the phone number?"
"Does it run into our offices?" she asked.
"Yes it's one of the agent lines in the secretaries room."
"If I were a betting woman - and I am - I would wager he will."
They came off the motorway and into outer London. "Do you mind dropping me off at home?" she said.
"No." It was out of his way but he wanted to see where she lived. He'd have to drive the car back out of London to his home in Finchley afterwards, but he wasn't planning on delivering it back until the next working day, so he had the time.
She directed him to Holland Park. "Just here, turn down into Phillimore Gardens." John looked at the street of elegant houses with their white pillared doorways. "It's just here."
He peered forward. "Which one?"
"Just up there. Not far. You needn't drop me right outside."
"It's not a problem. I can."
She smiled and shook her head. "No need."
"I'll help you with your case," he said.
She raised her eyebrows. "I'm not a little helpless woman. Just stay in the car," she said sharply. She got out and opened the boot to take out her case.
He got out.
"I told you I don't need your help," she said, half smiling, half irritated.
"Ailsa," he said, "what are we going to do?"
She turned and said, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Then she walked off, waving at him but not looking.
He drove back up to Finchley and parked the Cavalier outside his house. He opened the door and called "I'm back."
Instead of Karen he heard Angie Swain answer. She rushed up to him. "Oh John, thank God. We couldn't get in contact with you. We even phoned your office but they said they couldn't tell us where you were. They said they'd get a message to you.
"They didn't. Where's Karen? Where's the girls?"
"The girls are asleep, don't worry. Joe's been here with me. He's just gone out to get some milk. Yours was all sour."
"Where's Karen, Angie?"
"I came over the night you went away but she was in a very low mood. She kept crying. I got really worried and in the end I called Joe over. He said we should call a doctor."
"Has she been sectioned?" he asked.
Angie shook her head. "No. She's in Friern Hospital, but she went of her own accord. We tried to persuade her it was for the best. I was really worried John. I thought she might harm herself if we left her."
"But the girls are ok?" he demanded.
"Yes."
"I'm going to see them."
"Be quiet though. They've just gone to sleep."
John felt anger surge towards Karen. He opened the bedroom door and Eilidh and Morag were in their cots sleeping soundly. Eilidh was snoring with a gentle whistle. He went over and gently kissed their sleeping heads.
He heard the front door open and Joe's voice asking about him. He went out to see Joe. He hugged him and said, "Thank you. And thank you Angie for all that you've done. I'm so sorry I couldn't be contacted."
"We thought it was best. I think hospital was right."
"She can't be left alone with the girls," said John. "Ever again."
"I don't think she'd ever harm them," said Angie.
"She's tried to kill herself before. She might try to take them with her."
Joe and Angie were shocked. "I didn't know that," said Joe. "But I know she loves them. She wouldn't do that."
"Karen's not very stable when she gets like this."
"Try not to be angry at her John," said Angie.
"I'm just scared. Scared for my girls."
"And scared for Karen too," said Angie.
"Sure, of course. But mostly about them."
"I didn't know she'd tried to harm herself before," said Joe.
"Why would you? It's not the sort of thing you broadcast. She isn't looking after the girls properly. She leaves them alone in front of the fire while she goes off and reads."
Angie winced. "I think you're being a bit hard."
John ignored her. He said, "I need to be here to watch her."
"Will you go and see her tonight?" asked Joe.
John shook his head. "I'll go tomorrow. I'll phone them when you've gone to see she's ok. But first I'm going to phone my mother to see if she can come down and help."
"Ok John. Can I get you a drink?"
John shook his head. "There's some beer in the fridge if you want some. I don't want any. Thanks again. We'll be ok."
"We can stay as long as you want," said Angie.
"I appreciate that, but we'll be ok." He smiled grimly. "I might not be at work tomorrow."
John's mother arrived the next afternoon. He met her at King's Cross Sta
tion. She cried and hugged him at the station, and cried and hugged the twins, taking them out of their buggy one by one. They looked disgruntled but he was pleased they didn't wail. He drove home. She looked around the house with a critical eye. "I do like Karen, but she doesn't keep the house very nice," She took off her coat and hung it up. Then she said, "What can I get you for your tea?"
She cooked him egg and chips. She was delighted to be able to look after him again. She was even more delighted to look after the girls. After eating, John made sure his mother was happy looking after the twins. It was still a fine summer evening and she was planning to put their sun hats on and push them around in their double buggy. They had tried a buggy where one twin sat in front of the other but the one behind always got cross. They now had a side by side buggy so that neither girl felt neglected. The width made it difficult to get through shop doorways but it was fine in the park. John said he would be back in an hour or two and drove the car up the road to the Friern Hospital. He entered through the gatehouse. There was a pleasant park stretching in front of the long Italianate building and he could see patients gardening in the evening sun under the watchful eyes of the nurses. Karen was staying in a separate hospital built on the grounds called the Halliwick Hospital.
Karen was dressed in her own clothes. He met her in the day room and they sat at a table in the corner while patients and some staff watched Coronation Street on the TV in the opposite corner. A nurse brought Karen a cup of coffee but they didn't ask John whether he wanted one. Karen lit up a cigarette.
"You've started smoking?" said John.
"I have for a while, secretly like, without you knowing. It relieves the stress."
"It's not good for you Karen."
She puffed out smoke. "It's the least of my worries." She looked up at him. " So are you going to take my babies off me?"
He shook his head. "Why would I do that?"
"You don't think I'm safe to look after them. Don't deny it. I know. Is your mother down?"
He nodded.
"I bet she's loving it." She flicked ash on the floor. "I'm glad someone is. Send her my love. Will she come and see me?"
He shrugged. "It's hard because she won't be able to get here unless I drive her. And then what would we do with the girls?"
"No, they're not allowed on the ward. Too many loons like me." She flicked ash again. Her demeanour changed and some of the bitterness faded. "It is scary sometimes. Sometimes there's fights. Sometimes the nurses have to restrain patients. I mind my business and keep away from the psychos. I've even made some friends here would you believe? Poor wee souls like myself."
"Do you think you're feeling better?"
She nodded. "A bit. They have me on that Prozac. And once a day a nurse comes and listens to me rabbit on. It might even work - this so called therapy. Who knows?"
He reached out and held her hands. "I do care about you Karen. You know that."
She looked at him with cold, empty eyes. "Do you?"
He didn't respond. She said, "That's fair enough. I'm pretty hard to love. I don't even like myself very much."
He tried to mollify her. "Why do you say that? Everyone who knows you likes you. Angie and Joe were asking after you."
"Ask back. I like them too."
Suddenly, she started to cry. She wiped her eyes with the back of her right hand - the cigarette hanging from her fingers as she did so. But one hand wasn't enough to staunch the tears. She bowed her head and the tears dripped onto the table. Behind them no one noticed, too fixated on the sorrows of fictional people on the TV. "I'm sorry John. I've not been much fun to live with."
He took her hands. "You've not been well. You're ill. You're getting better."
She folded her fingers through his. "You're a good man. Many another would have left me for someone else by now."
He leaned down and kissed her fingers but he couldn't meet her eyes. "We'll move back to Edinburgh, I promise."
"I know your work is important to you. I'll get better here. Things will improve."
"You need more people around you. Maybe we could move closer to Joe and Angie. And my friend Alastair from A2A keeps asking if we'd go round for supper."
"That would be nice. I always liked Alastair and Zofia - no pretensions to them."
"But we'll go back to Scotland. I just need a year or two here. Just for my career, so I can get a good job when we go back."
"I said I'll be ok here."
"No, we'll go back. There's just things I promised myself I'd achieve in my work here. It'll give me an advantage in the jobs market. I could get a job as an Assistant Director - then maybe that would help me get something like head of security at one of the banks like the Royal Bank of Scotland. I don't know."
She wasn't listening."I've been a bitch to you John with my moods and my tantrums. And I know the sex life hasn't been much. Maybe I can ask one of the doctors here if I can get sex therapy? Just to teach me how to do it again." She smiled bitterly.
"I just want you to get well."
Later as he walked out back to the car, John was filled with such self loathing that he stopped halfway down the corridor and banged his forehead against the painted wall. A nurse was coming down the corridor and she looked long and hard at him. But she didn't stop and she didn't say anything. She probably felt she had enough troubled souls to look after without rescuing another. He walked out to the car and drove home. He knew he no longer loved Karen. A love has to be fed to live, and theirs had starved to death. As he drove, Ailsa came into his mind. He thrust her away, but unbidden she always returned and will alone could not turn his heart from her.
A week later the phone call from Vinogradov came. It was answered by one of the secretaries. She was new to the world of intelligence and still excited by it, unlike the other girls who talked about boyfriends and parties and going on holiday to Ibiza. She ran through to where John was at his desk drinking coffee and looking at the wall as if it were a window. She sounded very keen, "A man asking for Mr McIntosh. He sounds foreign. Is that for you John?"
John nodded. "Thanks Liz." He went through to the secretaries' office and heard Vinogradov's voice. He sounded nervous. "I'm in a phone booth. I don't have long. I want to meet you."
John had prepared for this. "When?" he said.
Vinogradov replied, "On Wednesday. I can be free so they don't miss me for two hours. From 12 noon."
John said, slowly and clearly, "Get the Tube to Warren Street Station. I'll be waiting at the station entrance reading a car magazine. Though you already know what I look like. Follow me and I will take you to a safe house. We will have counter surveillance so don't worry if you spot anyone. They'll be ours. We'll look out for yours."
The indoctrination list for the operation was was small and they didn't want to risk using A4 for counter surveillance so while John waited reading Autocar at entrance to Warren Street Underground Station, Rob from K4, Philip, now TCI/3 over at SIS and Ailsa were distributed discreetly at points to the station and the route to the safe house. They had borrowed some radio earpieces from A4 without explaining why. At five past twelve John saw Vinogradov come up the escalator. He lingered long enough to make sure Vinogradov saw him then tucked his magazine under his arm, looked at his watch and walked off round the corner. He saw Philip standing on the other side of the road as if waiting to hail a taxi but he did not make eye contact. He walked down Warren Street without looking back and saw Rob examining the menu in the window of a Nepalese restaurant. Then he turned left and walked into and across Fitzroy Square down Grafton Way and eventually into Fitzroy Mews. John felt in his pocket for the key to the safe house. He heard Philip's voice crackle over the radio. "He's clean."
John opened the door and nodded to Vinogradov who hurried across to the door. Once in John closed the door behind them and waited for a few minutes until there was a knock. He opened it and let Ailsa in. Then they all went upstairs.
"Do you want a cup of tea?" said John in English.
Vinogradov was sweating. "No. Was I followed?"
"Not by your people. No."
Ailsa smiled and extended her hand. "Welcome Mr Vinogradov."
He shook it without smiling. "Mrs Parker. The journalist."
She nodded. "Miss actually." John looked and saw she'd removed her wedding ring.
"Can we be quick?" asked Vinogradov.
"Of course."
"You have specific questions?"
John nodded. "I want to know about KGB activities here in the UK. Miss Parker here wants political information - what's going on in Moscow? What are the Politburo thinking? Is that right Miss Parker?"
"Perfectly, thank you Mr McIntosh," she said. "I'm going to get myself a glass of water. It's too hot in here. Anyone want one? Can you open the window Richard?"
It was a second before John realised she meant him. He went over and opened the window slightly. There was not much street noise - a dog barking, a child shouting in Arabic.
"I'm going to record this Mr Vinogradov," said John and got a cassette tape recorder from the wooden chest of drawers in the corner of the spartan room.
"Can I smoke?"
"Sure."
"Also call me Volodya. I want to feel as if I am among friends."
"Of course," said Ailsa. "You can call me Izzy. This is Dick."
If Vinogradov realised she was making a joke, he didn't smile. He lit up his cigarette and took a few nervous drags.
"Firstly," said Ailsa, "we need to talk about why you're here with us."
He met her gaze. "Why I am betraying my country?"
"I don't see it like that. I see that you are doing a heroic thing to help the cause of freedom both in Russia and the West," she said.
He shrugged, happy to allow her to persuade him of his virtue. "I hope so. To answer your question - my father was a KGB officer. The job brings prestige and privilege. You know all the nomenklatura aim for this kind of work - foreign travel, access to hard currency; a feeling of elitism. So naturally he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. Also the work is exciting. It is like being in a cheap novel - all the secrets and as you say in English, cloak and dagger."
