Brian Freemantle - The Blind Run

‘Yes,’ said Charlie. He was dry-throated and the confirmation croaked from him.

‘He had to, of course,’ said Wilson. ‘For it to work, later: for now, when you’ve come back. The Russians had to know of the loathing that existed between you, so that he wouldn’t be endangered…’

‘He shot a policeman,’ said Charlie, groping to understand. ‘He beat up one of the good prison officers and shot a copper. I saw him.’

‘Wait,’ said Wilson. ‘Hear it fully out. Despite your official assessments which were on record here and the monitor from the prison governor, I still had to satisfy myself completely about you. We could still have aborted your part in the operation, even then. The Soviets are always bloody good, about getting their people out. We knew when they made contact, initially through the newspaper and then through the radio he’d been told to get brought in. His telling you was the test, Charlie. If you hadn’t done exactly as you did, got to the governor and tried to stop it… agreed to go along, instead, then I’d have arranged a simple cell change and let Sampson go on alone.’

‘What would have happened to me?’ demanded Charlie, suddenly attentive.

This time there was no smile from Wilson. ‘If you hadn’t reported the escape plan and decided to get out, to Moscow, then you’d have been a traitor, wouldn’t you Charlie? You’d have served the rest of your sentence, with no parole, no reduction of sentence…’

‘Jesus!’ said Charlie, emptily.

‘But you’re not a traitor, Charlie. I always knew it…’ The smile came back. ‘That’s when I knew it was all going to work… stood a chance of working, at least. It was important to guarantee your return, of course. That’s why the business with the policeman was important…’

‘You allowed a policeman to be killed!’

Wilson shook his head. ‘The warder had to be beaten. It was unfortunate but necessary. You had to believe it. We planted the policeman: he was one of our people.’

‘Blanks?’ said Charlie.

Wilson nodded.

‘The Russians demanded the gun,’ remembered Charlie. ‘If they’d checked the magazine, it would have been over before it started.’

‘No,’ said Wilson, unoffended. ‘I’ve told you, Charlie. We planned everything to the last detail. Two of the shots were blanks. The first one, which appeared to bring the man down. And the second, to finish him off. The other bullets were genuine, just in case they did check. By that time the Russians had to believe the killing, as well.’

‘But why?’ demanded Charlie.

‘To allow the murder warrants,’ explained Wilson, gently. ‘If getting you out hadn’t gone as smoothly as it did – and I think we were lucky there – we had a warrant alleging murder against you. Moscow couldn’t have demanded to keep a murderer, could they?’

‘Sampson pretended to kill a copper to protect me!’

‘Yes,’ said Wilson.

‘Oh God,’ said Charlie, emptily.

‘All you really had to do, to make your part of the operation work, was actually get to Moscow and then get back again,’ said Wilson. ‘The business with GUM was just to make you believe there was a point in your going…’ Wilson broke away. ‘Getting into that spy school was a hell of a bonus, by the way. Well done.’

‘Berenkov fixed it,’ repeated Charlie.

Wilson nodded. ‘He was the target,’ said the director. ‘All the messages were carefully planted pointed to Berenkov’s division. I wonder if we haven’t taken too much of an obvious chance, making the supposed identification Chekhov quotations. We’ve no news of any move against him: won’t have for months yet.’

‘The messages,’ said Charlie. ‘How could you make the supposed information you were getting out of Moscow genuine enough to hope to convince them?’

Wilson shifted against the radiator, pulling his stiff leg into a more comfortable position. ‘Had to be very careful there,’ he conceded. ‘Drew on America a lot, although they don’t know it. Asked for special help, from their satellite surveillance system. If the Soviets knew – instead of believing it came from one of their own people – they’d realise just how effective and complete that satellite spying is. All the stuff from Baikonur and about crop yields came from satellites. The American NSA and our own radio and telephone intercept people at Cheltenham helped a lot, too – again not knowing just how much – and we managed to get quite a bit more from that. The information I told you about in jail, about Politburo decisions, actually came from microwave intercept. We made a big fuss, finally. We blanketed the Soviet embassy here and over the course of several months – while you were still in jail and actually before Sampson got sentenced – began to identify their agents here. We pouched the information to Moscow and had them transmit it back and then expelled most of them, a couple of months back.’

‘My coming out turned the key completely on Berenkov?’ said Charlie, the picture practically formed in his mind now. ‘We’d known each other, here. The messages – the indication that the informant wanted to defect – pointed to him. My going to Moscow – then getting out – would confirm the final suspicion?’

‘That’s right,’ said Wilson.

‘Did you know about Georgi?’

‘Georgi?’

‘His son passed an examination qualifying him for an exchange course education, somewhere in the West,’ explained Charlie.

‘Marvellous!’ said Wilson, enthusiastically. ‘I didn’t have any idea but that’s a hell of a bonus, too. Like your actually getting to him. I thought it might happen but I recognised it as a long shot.’

‘Poor Alexei,’ said Charlie, wistfully.

Wilson frowned at the sympathy. ‘Can’t you understand how this will turn the Russian service on its head!’ he demanded. ‘Everything with which Berenkov has been involved since his return and rehabilitation in Russia will be suspect. And not just that. Everything he ever sent from here, as well. It’ll take them years to sort out and send them in more wrong directions that we can count.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Charlie, ‘It’s very clever.’ He stopped and then began again. ‘What about Sampson?’

‘He does what it was always intended he should do, when I took over the Willoughby operation. I always intended to stage his arrest, to get him repatriated to Russia…’ Wilson paused, in further admiration, ‘I don’t think I know of a man with more courage or conviction. I didn’t force the decision upon him, you understand. I gave him weeks, to make his mind up. Set it out as clearly as I could that he was committing himself to a situation that I didn’t think many men could endure. He insisted on going through with it. There’s a chance he would have been involved in their attempts to find out who the supposed defector was: he sent the first warning message, after all. If he is, then he can further tilt everything in Berenkov’s direction. But that again would be a bonus and I think we’ve had enough of those. What we’re hoping for is that he’ll get brought in to their service…’ There was another smile. ‘And then we’ll have what the Russians think we’ve already got. We’ll have a spy in place.’

‘Christ!’ said Charlie.

‘He won’t be able to go on forever, of course,’ said Wilson. ‘The same murder warrant exists against him. The understanding is that he can run whenever he wants. Knowing Sampson, I expect him to stay for the agreed period. Five years. For five years he’s going to feed us everything he can. And when he gets back here I’m personally going to see that he gets every reward and honour it’s possible for him to have.’

‘You should have told me,’ insisted Charlie, flat-voiced. ‘You really should have told me.’