Brian Freemantle - The Lost American

Betty stared at her friend with her head cocked artificially, in obvious disbelief. ‘How’s Eddie?’ she said.

This was getting ridiculous, thought Ann. Openly to lose her temper would be a mistake. ‘Fine,’ she said. Was that true? Ann thought, letting her mind slip sideways. He was fine, physically, and she knew sufficient about the government changes to understand that he should be preoccupied but there had been times recently when she felt he had been closing up against her. Not recently, she thought, self-annoyed at the conscious vagueness. She could date precisely the beginning of her impression, from the moment when he agreed they should try for a baby. And they weren’t doing that as often as she had hoped, although the work preoccupation could be a reason for his tiredness. And certainly not with any success. Ann knew her attitude was illogical – you didn’t become pregnant just by wanting to become pregnant – but she’d expected something to have happened, by now. Maybe she should go back to the embassy doctor, to try to discover if there was a problem.

‘Just fine?’ said Betty, still allowing the disbelief.

‘Absolutely and utterly fine,’ said Ann, controlling herself. She was glad now that at the beginning, when she was enjoying the other woman’s jealousy, she had not boasted about the tickets she had particularly got to surprise Brinkman for the new production at the Bolshoi.

That night in bed she said to Blair, ‘You know what I think about Betty Harrison?’

‘What?’

‘I think she poisonous. I don’t think she spreads rumours, I think she makes them up.’

‘What about?’ asked the American.

‘Whatever takes her fancy,’ said Ann.

‘I thought you liked her,’ he said mildly.

‘I do’ said Ann, confusingly. ‘But I don’t think I’d trust her.’

She waited, hopefully, but felt him turn away.

‘Goodnight,’ he said.

‘Goodnight.’

Very occasionally – too occasionally for it to be considered anything more than the most sensational good fortune – it was possible to cultivate and maintain a source with some internal knowledge in Moscow. Some intelligence officers forged links with dissidents but it was dangerous – apart from closely following their illegal zamizdat – because the KGB monitored the activities rigidly and sometimes infiltrated provocateurs, so there was always the risk of seizure and some highly publicised diplomatic incident, usually expulsion. The majority of intelligence came from assessment, from closely studying and analysing official announcements and seeing who was and who was not in official photographs or at official receptions; frequently making conclusions from details like who was standing in relation to whom at those events. Sources for those assessments were usually the approved newspapers or the approved television coverage. Personally able to observe was a bonus, which was why Brinkman went to the airport for the arrival of the Cuban delegation and there he was a long way away, only able to establish Serada’s absence. To get anywhere near close proximity to the Soviet hierarchy practically ranked with managing to establish an internal source. When Brinkman realised his opportunity he went after it with the unwavering determination with which he had passed every examination and every interview and every aptitude test to jump over the heads and get the plum Moscow posting. The care he had taken to establish himself with everyone within the embassy helped. And so, at last, did the offered personal relationship with the ambassador; independence had to make way for necessary advantage, Brinkman decided.

The visit of the British parliamentary party was planned to be a big one, not just the leader of the Opposition but the Shadow Foreign Secretary and the Shadow Trade Secretary and three other MPs who would form part of the Cabinet if they were successful in the next election. The defeat in the last had been extremely narrow and the forecast for the next gave them a more than strong chance, which was undoubtedly a factor in the Russian decision to greet and entertain them at such a high level, scheduling two State banquets and a Kremlin reception, with private talks agreed.

Despite his determination to get what he wanted, Brinkman went about his bid to be appointed official interpreter as properly as he had always conducted himself within the embassy, making the approach first to the Head of Chancery and actually using the meeting to rehearse his arguments, stressing that his official position as cultural attache made him ideally suited for the function and pointing out that his Russian was unquestionably equal to if not superior to the majority of other likely choices. Having started the right way Brinkman took the gamble and approached Sir Oliver Brace directly. The attitude of proper career diplomats to intelligence personnel in embassies varies and is frequently ambivalent: intelligence agents are a necessity, like daily bowel movements, but not usually things to be acknowledged. And certainly not to be allowed into any sort of situation involving ambassadors which might then or later cause problems. Brinkman was immediately aware of Brace’s face closing as he made the request, the older man’s experienced professionalism at once coming to the forefront. Brinkman had anticipated it, making frequent references to his father – of whose best wishes and gratitude at the friendship being shown in Moscow he assured the ambassador – and disclosing the man’s impending promotion to be Permanent Head of the Foreign Office. Brinkman knew Sir Oliver saw a concluding career for himself at the Foreign Office when the Moscow posting finished, a career his father would be in a position to sanction or not. He said he could understand any hesitation Brace might have – because it would have been ridiculous for him not to have acknowledged it – but insisted a personal as well as professional guarantee that nothing would arise which could cause any embarrassment, a guarantee the ambassador would know to be sincere from the man’s knowledge of the Brinkman family. Brace refused initially to commit himself, promising to consider it, and Brinkman endured the most uncertain week he had known since his arrival in Moscow, guessing the discussions would not just be confined to the ambassador and Head of Chancery but extend to London, as well. He wished the diplomatic cable channels were not separate from his own, another precaution against embarrassment. He actually considered making a direct approach to his father, towards the end of the week when he heard nothing, abandoning the idea because he realised the contact would have had to be by telephone, which was not secure – and therefore impossible – and would unquestionably cause the resentment he had so far managed to avoid, from everyone.

He got approval on the Monday.

Brinkman set about preparing himself with the care he devoted to everything. He had full biographies and information details on the MPs with whom he would be working pouched from London and requested – and got – a lot of additional material he considered lacking from the first shipment. He extended the preparation beyond learning about the personalities, finding out the purpose of the visit – creating a statesmen-like impression in Britain, in readiness for the next election – and the expected outcome, communiques of mutual trust and friendship and assurances of close working relationships in the future, another voter lure.

Although it wasn’t his responsibility Brinkman involved himself in every aspect of the tour, checking and rechecking their accommodation and travel arrangements and their sightseeing schedules. Because of his early days’ groundwork he was able to do so without upsetting anyone else in the embassy. In cases there was actually appreciation: a two-day visit to Leningrad was planned and there was underbooking in both hotels and transport there, so his intrusion was correctly seen to have avoided a mistake for which the embassy could have been criticised.