Brian Freemantle - Charlie M

The Charles Bridge is one of the ten that cross the Vltava to link both sides of the city but is restricted entirely to pedestrians. Each parapet is sectioned by huge statues of saints.

Charlie approached early from the direction of Hradany, so he loitered before the shops in the narrow, rising approach to the bridge, stopping for several moments apparently to study the fading, pastel-coloured religious painting adorning the outside of the house at the immediate commencement. He was not being followed, he decided.

The bright sunlight hurt his eyes, increasing the discomfort of the headache. He felt sick and kept belching.

Slowly he began to cross the bridge, professionally glad it had been chosen as a meeting place. It was thronged with tourists and provided excellent cover.

He saw the American first.

Braley had approached from the opposite side of the river and had halted by one of the statues. He was wearing sports clothes and an open shirt, with a camera slung around his neck. It was very clever, conceded Charlie, reminded again of the fat man’s expertise. Without creating the slightest suspicion, the American was ideally placed to photograph the meeting between him and Kalenin.

So thick was the midday crowd he almost missed the General. The tiny Russian was standing where they had arranged, wearing a summer Russian raincoat that was predictably too long, staring up towards the sluices. Charlie felt a shudder of fear go through him and he shivered, as if he were cold. He gripped his hands tightly by his side, pushing his knuckles into his thighs.

‘Too late to be frightened, Charlie,’ he told himself. ‘You’re committed.’

As he covered the last few yards, he tried to isolate the watchers in addition to Braley but failed. It was to be expected, rationalised Charlie. Those immediately around the K.G.B. chief would be the absolute best: Ruttgers and Cuthbertson would have people there as well, he knew.

Charlie grinned, despite the nervousness and discomfort. There hadn’t been a moment for the past three months when he hadn’t been under collective surveillance from one service or another, he thought. Presidents didn’t get better protection.

He positioned himself alongside the Russian without looking directly at him.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ he apologised. He was still dehydrated from the alcohol and his voice croaked.

‘Not at all,’ assured Kalenin. ‘I was early.’

Charlie felt the other man examining him.

‘Are you all right?’ asked the General. ‘You don’t look well.’

Charlie turned towards him.

‘Fine,’ he lied.

Kalenin nodded, doubtfully.

‘I’m afraid Snare has had a collapse,’ announced the General.

Charlie stayed, waiting.

‘Apparently couldn’t stand solitary confinement,’ reported the Russian. ‘Our psychiatrists are quite worried.’

‘He’s in the Serbsky Institute?’ predicted Charlie.

‘Yes,’ agreed Kalenin. ‘It’s remarkably well equipped.’

‘So we’ve heard in the West from various dissidents who’ve been brainwashed there,’ responded Charlie, sarcastically.

Kalenin frowned at the remark, then shrugged.

‘My people will be upset at the news,’ said Charlie.

It was quite unintentional, I assure you,’ replied Kalenin. ‘In the circumstances, I couldn’t let him come into contact with anyone, could I?’

‘No,’ accepted Charlie. ‘I don’t suppose you could.’

Kalenin looked back up the river.

‘I’ve always liked Prague,’ he said, conversationally. ‘I think of it as a gentle city.’

Charlie was perspiring, not just from the heat, and the pain in his head drummed in time with his heartbeat.

‘We’re not here to admire the city,’ he reminded, curtly.

Again Kalenin turned to him.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘Of course.’

‘You’re recording this meeting?’ queried Kalenin, expectantly.

‘Yes,’ said Charlie, patting his pocket. Kalenin nodded.

‘You were very punctilious about the money.’

Further along the bridge, Charlie saw Braley man?uvre for a photograph.

‘I see your companion in Vienna and France is a little further along,’ continued Kalenin, without turning around. ‘Shall I meet him?’

The Russian was smiling, happy at his control of the situation.

‘That’s a matter for you,’ said Charlie, disconcerted.

‘I think we should, in a moment,’ replied Kalenin. ‘I’ve worked out the crossing with great care and I don’t want anything to go wrong: it’s best he hears at the same time as you.’

‘We’ve also done a fair amount of planning,’ guaranteed Charlie.

Kalenin nodded again. He’s patronising me, thought Charlie.

‘The money will be in Austria?’ demanded Kalenin.

‘I’ve already lodged it at the embassy,’ said Charlie.

‘Good,’ praised Kalenin. ‘Good. You really do seem to have put some thought into it.’

The General turned, looking towards the American.

‘To avoid repetition, shall we join Mr Braley now?’

It would have been relatively easy to compare pictures taken in Austria and France against those of former personnel at the Moscow Embassy, supposed Charlie.

The American saw them approaching and moved against the parapet, gazing fixedly at the view.

‘Are there many pictures of our meeting, Mr Braley?’ greeted Kalenin.

Braley’s chest pumped uncertainly.

‘We were photographed as well as seen during the money-changing,’ enlightened Charlie, feeling sorry for the C.I.A. man.

Braley swallowed, trying to curb the nervous reaction.

‘Good day, sir,’ he said to the Russian, awkwardly.

It sounded a ridiculous greeting in the circumstances and Charlie wanted to laugh. Nerves, he thought.

Kalenin continued walking, without replying, leading them from the bridge. He appeared very confident, thought Charlie; too confident, even. The man could ruin the whole thing by conceit, thought the Englishman, worriedly.

‘There’s a very attractive horologue in the old town,’ lectured Kalenin, like a tourist guide, as they reached the covered pavement. ‘And some pleasant cafes.’

Charlie and Braley exchanged looks, but said nothing. The American was as uncertain as he was, saw Charlie.

Kalenin made a point of showing them the gilded timepiece before courteously seating them at a pavement table and ordering drinks. He and Braley had beer, but Charlie selected coffee.

‘I have been thinking very deeply about what is to happen,’ said Kalenin slowly. He was speaking, thought Charlie, as Cuthbertson would have addressed a class at staff college.

Kalenin looked directly at both before continuing.

‘I have become increasingly aware of the enormous value I have in the West,’ said the General. ‘Upon reflection a value far in excess of $500,000.’

Braley moved to speak, anticipating a change of mind in the Russian, but Kalenin raised his hand imperiously, stopping the interruption. From somewhere in the square, Charlie knew, there would be cameras recording every moment of the encounter: the admiration of the horologe and selection of the conveniently free cafe table was very rehearsed.

‘I am determined to be properly treated,’ continued Kalenin.

He was ill at ease with pomposity, thought Charlie.

‘I don’t think you need have any doubt about that,’ assured the Briton.

Kalenin looked at him, irritably.

‘Allow me to finish,’ he demanded. ‘As I have already indicated, I will cross over on the nineteenth. I’ve arranged a visit to the border area in such a way as to allay any suspicion. I have selected Jaroslavice as the crossing point …’

The General paused.