by Joyce Wayne
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next morning, Nunn May and I were deposited in BOAC’s first class departure lounge from Montreal. Harry Vine was scheduled to be on the same aircraft, sitting in economy alongside our Russian driver, who’d accompany him to Moscow. Irina was forgotten. Again our plans had changed. I wouldn’t be flying from London to Moscow. Only Vine was to meet with the Director. No one told me where I was going to end up.
“Vine on same plane. We all go down together,” the driver teased.
I couldn’t stop fidgeting during the long flight. Nunn May and I roamed around the makeshift airport in Gander Newfoundland where the BOAC plane refuelled. In the air, I was ordered not to walk back to the economy section so I hadn’t caught sight of Vine yet, and I wasn’t certain if he was actually onboard as we flew over the Atlantic.
What happened at Heathrow, occurred in an instant. Dr. and Mrs. Assetline had no trouble passing through British customs. As soon as we stepped through immigration on the way to collect our baggage, a man approached Nunn May from behind and he was gone in an instant. I never saw the scientist again. I only discovered later that MI5 was there to snatch him up at the baggage counter. The RCMP had already sent Gouzenko’s information, which implicated Nunn May in the plot to steal atomic secrets, to London intelligence. But the Soviets had also been tipped off about our arrival, and they acted with increased alacrity while the English took their time. Later I was to learn that a double agent warned the GRU about the danger their man was in and rescued him.
As I waited at the baggage claim, I spotted Vine and the driver collecting their cases before they disappeared. I was shaken after seeing Nunn May disappear in an instant, but knowing that Vine had at least made it out of Canada ahead of the RCMP put me a little more at ease. It was true that he’d been on the same plane as me and that he’d gotten out of Canada ahead of the RCMP. I assumed they were changing planes to Moscow where Vine would be well treated. I imagined him remade in his new life as a junior apparatchik in the Kremlin. If I wasn’t found out, I’d settle in Moscow, too. We would be friends, perhaps living in the same building. As I stretched out my arm to grab my own suitcase from the conveyer belt, another man crept up behind me. “I’ll get that, Mrs. Asselstine,” he said, ensuring that I didn’t attempt to catch up with Vine.
“The doctor is heading straight to the conference hotel, but I understand you’d prefer to see something of the English countryside,” the Soviet operative said.
I had no idea where I was going.
“Come with me,” he said, directing me with his arm.
In the taxi, we drove to Paddington Station. I was to take the passenger train to Plymouth and then board the ferry, across the Channel to Roscoff, where I’d be met by another friend. The man handed me a wallet of pound sterling notes and reminded me to get some sleep on the ferry. A private cabin was awaiting me. I wouldn’t be joining Vine in Moscow, the man informed me.
Upon boarding the ferry, I descended to my cabin to lie down on the lower berth. I was too exhausted to remove my mink coat or leather boots. I must have fallen asleep, because I woke when I heard a key turning in the door’s lock. This time it was a porter, arranging a dinner of bangers and mash on the counter beside me. “Eat your food now, Miss Linton,” he said in his cockney accent. “Channel crossings can get rough. At Roscoff, you’ll switch to the train to Paris and then on to Vienna. A friend will accompany you, so there’s no need to worry. You won’t be alone.”
“Where’s Vine?” I asked. “I was told we’d meet in Moscow. Where am I going?”
“Be patient, and be quiet,” he whispered putting his finger to his lips. The porter warned me not to attempt to leave the cabin, slamming the door shut and locking it when he departed.
On the tray carrying my dinner was a letter addressed to me.
My darling Freda,
By now you are sailing across the Channel and you are safe. You know that I’ve honoured my promise to get you out of Canada. I have kept my word. Soon you will be in the Soviet Union. Your sister, Masha, will meet you in Kiev, and that is why her picture is in your locket. So you recognize her at first glance.
No mistakes.
A comrade, a friend of the Soviet people, will accompany you when you disembark in France. He will protect you and ensure the locket gets into the hands of the right people.
Please don’t worry about Vine, as you are want to do. He also has a copy of Fuchs’ diagrams and he will deliver them to the Kremlin, not you. I never wished to expose you to danger, my dear, you must realize that by now.
Vine will plead with the Director that it was Gouzenko who exploded our operation in Ottawa and the worst that could be said about me is that I was too lax, too easy with the embassy staff, which, in and of itself is a breach of protocol, and one for which I will be punished. I am optimistic that my punishment will not be unduly harsh.
Vine will report that Gouzenko made one copy of the atomic diagrams, while I kept the original. He will say that I was intending to courier the information to Moscow, but only when the time was right. He will admit that I was excessively cautious and concerned that the Canadians were examining our diplomatic pouch and I didn’t wish to risk it.
When I reach Moscow I will admit my lack of courage, that I should have taken all risks necessary to get the diagrams to the Director. But it was nothing calculated; only a mistake in judgment. An error.
In the meantime, Vine will be the hero. He will bring Fuchs’ diagrams to the Centre. What he doesn’t know is that it will take our Soviet scientists hundreds of hours in the lab—making heavy water—before they will be able to build the bomb.
Gouzenko’s copy of the diagrams has been in the RCMP’s possession for six months. London and Washington knows what we were up to in North America, spying on our allies in order to build a Soviet atomic weapon.
I believe, my darling, that we will wiggle out of this one together. The Brits will press for leniency since this mess is partly their fault. The comrade who will meet your ferry will explain in greater detail. He knows the entire story and intends to see the British Empire fall into ignominy.
Now I must tend to my duties here in Ottawa. You must believe in me and know that I love you deeply and forever and will never rest until we are together.
Your devoted servant,
NZ
I cursed the day Zabotin plundered Nesvicz, as I drifted into an uneasy sleep with his letter in my hand. By morning the ferry came into view of land and I heard the key turn the lock of my cabin. I rushed to the door and found it open. Zabotin did love me, I admitted that, but at what cost?
On shore, a man raced toward me. “Darling,” he said, wrapping one arm around me and with the other hand, presenting me with a bouquet of white roses. He whispered in my ear, “Do not try to run. Do not scream.” He kissed my hand. “You must be seen as sneaking away from boring Dr. Asselstine to be with me, your lover. Act like it.”
The man hailed a taxi to carry us to the train station. We boarded the train to take us south to Paris and on to Vienna.
“Who are you?” I asked him.
“Not to worry,” he said. “We have more than enough time to get to know each other. In the meantime, be quiet as a mouse. I’ll discuss the changes to your mission when we are alone. My name is Kim Philby, and we are lovers. I met you in Canada when I was there last.” He shoved a handful of letters into my hand. “Keep them close. Show these letters if anyone suspects us.”
“Where’s Vine?” I asked, defiantly.
“I’ll explain everything,” he assured me. “Let’s wait until we’re alone in our compartment. Try to be patient.”
The first-class compartment was ornate, with pullout beds and a wash basin for the long trip to Vienna. There were more flowers and a bottle of champagne awaiting us.
“You look swell as a blonde, but I prefer you as a brunette.”
“How do you know what I looked like?” This man was infuriating. “I need t
o know what’s really going on and where we’re going.”
“Things change, Miss Linton. You already have been told that Vine will deliver the drawings to the Director in Moscow. You’ll give me the plutonium. Simple and straightforward, no?”
“Nunn May, he was taken away as soon as we landed at Heathrow.”
Philby looked at me quizzically. “You didn’t suppose we’d allow him to be questioned by MI5, did you? Nunn May is safe with us. He really doesn’t know much except that the scientists at Chalk River have built their own little reactor. I know about the ZEEP. He’s already told us about that. It’s not exactly news.”
I removed my mink coat, but kept my hat on. “Who is us?” I asked.
“I’m on your side, my dear,” he said, clutching my arm. “You must trust me or we’ll both be in trouble. MI5 thought they’d get to Nunn May at Heathrow, but we’re quicker than them. I had our boys positioned to pick him up. Zabotin let me know Nunn May was on the plane with you.”
“Our boys?”
“Don’t be dense. It’s not impossible to figure it out. I work for the Soviets.”
“And the British?”
“Yes, at the same time.”
“How do I know who you’re working for now?”
“I suppose you can’t. But I’ll get you back to Soviet territory safely. I’ll deliver you to your sister Masha. Now, do you believe me?”
I asked him about Zabotin, if he was still in Canada, but Philby was coy.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Are the Soviets… are you protecting Grierson as well?” I inquired.
“Not entirely. Let me be frank,” Philby said, clenching his teeth. “Prime Minister King is calling a Royal Commission to investigate our Canadian-based spies. It’s handier than a court of law where justice must be upheld, and more brutal. Grierson will be called upon to testify. A few questions, mostly about you, my dear girl, and he’ll be dismissed. Shortly afterward he’ll be relieved of his position at the Wartime Information Bureau and a new Head will be hired for the National Film Board.”
Grierson would defend me to the bitter end, no matter what the personal cost. I was confident of that much.
“Ellery will cover for Grierson to a certain extent.” Philby stuttered for effect. “Or be exposed as a dupe of Soviet intelligence himself. Grierson must resign himself to a life of total obscurity. You might have joined him at his home back in Scotland, but I suspect you’ll be happier in the Soviet Union.”
Zabotin was working with this odious man. That much was clear, but I didn’t know how much Philby knew, or if he knew that Zabotin was trying to outsmart the Centre.
“Your colleague, Homer, what is he to expect?” I wanted to show Philby that I knew a thing or two.
“Ah Homer… he will be re-assigned to Cairo. It’s a damn pity. British intelligence needs men of Donald’s caliber. He really is an extraordinary agent, a workhorse, but a bit soft on straddling both sides. I shouldn’t worry about him.”
“Trust me, I won’t.”
“But mostly you are concerned about your lover, right? Zabotin. Don’t concern yourself. He has friends in Moscow. They’ll take good care of him. There are always insiders who wield more power than anyone realizes. That’s how undercover clubs operate. Rather cut throat. Cloak and dagger.”
I wasn’t certain if Philby was telling me that Zabotin would be executed or just ex-communicated.
“Don’t look so grim,” Philby said to me, taking a lock of my hair in his hand. “I’m rather senior myself. Not in the same way as Zabotin. I’m too valuable to MI6 to expire on the battlefield.”
I brushed Philby’s hand aside.
“Possibly you would find me more attractive if I was in uniform. Women prefer a man in uniform.”
“No, I would not.”
“Miss Linton. Please don’t pretend that you haven’t been around the dance floor numerous times. I know of your work for the GRU and I admire your fortitude, your longevity. Think of it this way: we’re both attempting to stop World War III. If you’ve forgotten, we’re on the same side. Even your hero Zabotin will regain his sanity once he returns to the fold. I can understand why he withheld Fuchs’ diagrams from the Director. His allegiance is to Mother Russia and not to Communism. In that way we are slightly different, but our goal is the same: for the Russians to make the bomb. I would have preferred if he’d shared Fuchs’ diagrams with the Centre earlier, before Hiroshima; but in the end, he did the right thing. And so we’ll protect him. And you, of course, with your locket of plutonium.”
“And then what will you do with me?”
Philby sat back on the upholstered seat. He unzipped his trousers and spread his legs. He expected me to kneel in front of him, and I did. We spent a great deal of the trip in that position.
Chapter Twenty-Four
In Vienna, Philby and I checked into a modest pension, far from the palatial glories of the Ringstrasse. It was a working man’s bed and board, without any pretensions, but the sheets were clean. The linen was disinfected in carbolic soap, and the smell permeated the room. At the end of the hall was a toilet in one cabinet and a bathtub in the other.
I needed to sleep and Philby allowed me a few hours. When I woke there was schnitzel, potato dumplings and a bottle of wine. Philby was reading from Graham Greene.
He looked up at me and said, “If I hadn’t become a spy, I would have been a novelist, but St. John, my father… well he was the exotic in the family, the rebel. He took a mistress, an Arabic girl and actually married her while my mother was alive. In our part of little England, that takes nerve. I’m really just a bureaucrat doing as I’m told.”
“Are you married?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, to the same old girl for years now. My lady wife is fragile, under the weather much of the time, but she’s a good sport. Puts up with me, as do the children. I shouldn’t expect you’d be as long-suffering as my wife.” He pointed to his side of the unmade bed.
Philby crawled in beside me. He undressed me as I turned by back to him. That’s when he let me know how much the Director admired my work. “He holds you in the highest regard.”
“As the Americans say, that and a nickel will get me a cup of coffee,” I deadpanned.
“Au contraire. The Director is a very powerful man. For now, he has captured Stalin’s ear.” Philby wrapped his arms around my breasts as he penetrated me. “You must face the fact that you’ll never be allowed to leave us again, you’ll never return to the West.” He was panting with excitement. “It would be much too dangerous.” For a few moments he grew silent, until he expired.
Within minutes he began talking again. “If I were to let you go, the Americans would interrogate you, and we must never underestimate their brutality. Your knowledge about how the Soviets got their hands on the plutonium and the atomic diagrams… well,” he said, stuttering. “It’s something only a very few of us will ever understand.”
I pulled away from his grasp and sat up to cover myself with a blanket.
“The job is never over, you know,” Philby continued. “At Los Alamos, Oppenheimer’s scientists are hard at work devising a more powerful bomb. Bringing the plutonium to me is courageous. I commend you, as will the Director. You should be thankful. You are allowed to survive, but not to tell the tale.”
I grabbed at the locket around my neck.
“There, there. Hand it over,” he ordered. “I wouldn’t want you escaping tonight. I must meet friends for a few hours while you catch up on your beauty sleep.”
I took the locket from my neck and placed it in his hand. Philby was finished with me. I’d served my purpose. I didn’t know what would happen to Zabotin, but I feared he’d be punished, perhaps killed. Philby was furious with him, for withholding the diagrams.
“Aren’t you curious about what’s going to happen to you once you’re back on Soviet soil? You’re going to the Ukraine, to your sister. She’ll ensure you behave.”
I ref
used to cry.
“By the time I return late tonight, Vine will have delivered the atomic diagrams to the Director. Once you are with your sister, Vine can do what he wants. He may choose to reside with you, in case he gets lonely. The powers that be won’t be hard on either of you. I don’t expect Vine will betray you or Zabotin to the GRU. There’s really nothing in it for him and I’ve reminded him that Zabotin is more useful to us alive rather than in an unmarked grave.
“Without you, poor old Vine would be isolated in the Soviet Union, lacking a friendly face to cheer him up. He does appear to require quite a lot of cheering up. For all his faith in Marxism, he does get worked up when the situation gets dicey. The man relies most heavily on you, Freda, but all the men in your life appear to. Extraordinary, really! Grierson is inconsolable apparently, sorry old bugger.”
Philby dressed. He removed a one-time pad from his valise, the kind the Soviets used to transmit messages during the war. Then he left without bidding me goodbye.
I spent most of the night alone. Philby didn’t return until the early hours of the morning. “Vine made the drop. He’s free to go,” he declared, a cheery ring to his voice. “Get dressed right now. We have a train to catch.”
In the taxi to the station, I knew that Philby had no reason to keep me alive. He had the plutonium. “Where is Zabotin?” I tried not to sound desperate.
“He must stay in Ottawa until this Gouzenko affair blows over.”
“That could take years.” I was holding back the tears. “Give me back the locket.”
Philby acted surprised. “You are smarter than that. Do you actually expect me to? Ah, Freda. For a clever woman you can behave like an idiot. You and Zabotin believing you could stand in the way of history. Don’t muddy the waters for him. It could seal his fate.”
