Стелла Римингтон - The Moscow Sleepers

He stopped and Liz said nothing, her eyes on Fane. But he nodded grudgingly. ‘I can see that working.’ Then as if unwilling to concede too much, he added, ‘Mind you, don’t overdo it.’

Pearson smiled. ‘We won’t.’

Fane turned back to Liz. ‘So, what you’re saying, if I understand it correctly, is that in fact it’s a good thing these men got away.’

Liz thought for a moment. ‘Yes. No scandal, no press, no publicity. It’s not as if we did anything brilliant. We were just lucky all the way through, particularly in failing to catch the Bartholomew three.’

Fane had his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers together in a pyramid. ‘The Russians couldn’t really lose on this one. If we hadn’t discovered what they were up to, then they’d have continued on their merry way and done a lot of damage.’ Liz nodded. ‘If, conversely, we did uncover their operations, there would be a maelstrom of bad publicity about the ineptitude of Western intelligence agencies, the vulnerability of our institutions – from an American university to the European Commission and our fee-paying shills. None of which would do anything but help the reputation of the Russians – it’s not as if the world expects better behaviour from the FSB. Bloody hell, I wish I could see something retrievable in this situation.’

‘Cheer up, Geoffrey,’ said Liz. ‘Look on the bright side. If we manage to avoid a political storm like the Germans have got, then we will have succeeded. We’ve discovered what was going on; we’ve stopped it and hopefully there will be no fallout. What more do you want?’

The room was silent as everyone tried to decide whether they were looking at a success or a failure.

There was a sharp knock on the door and a familiar face looked in.

‘My God!’ exclaimed Fane. ‘From Russia with love.’

Bruno Mackay pushed open the door with one hand and came in, carrying a leather holdall in the other. Liz looked at him in astonishment. The man who walked into the room had the face and voice of Bruno Mackay but everything else about him was different. The straight blonde hair was now a wavy mahogany; the Savile Row suit had morphed into jeans and a leather jacket, and the striped Jermyn Street shirt and silk tie into something plain, dark-coloured and open-necked. This was Alan Urquhart, the investment banker, straight from Moscow via Beijing and Berlin.

‘Good heavens, Bruno,’ said Liz. ‘I’d never have recognised you.’

‘That’s rather the idea,’ he replied dropping his bag on the floor and reaching across the table to shake hands with Pearson and introduce himself.

‘I’m relieved to see you back,’ said Fane. ‘I hope the journey went well.’

‘It was quite an experience. Especially the drive out of Moscow. That team you sent to rescue me was quite something. But I’m still in the dark about why you pulled me out.’

Richard Pearson stood up. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll leave you all to it now. We’ve covered everything that affects me; I’m sure if anything else comes up you’ll let me know. Liz has agreed to come to Suffolk tomorrow to meet my commissioner, which will be a reassurance for him and a great help to me. But I’d like to thank you all for your help. And congratulations on your safe return,’ he said to Bruno, then left the meeting.

There was a general reshuffling. Peggy waved a hand at the small table in the corner where tea and coffee were set out. ‘Help yourself, Bruno,’ she said.

Geoffrey Fane and Bruno both stood up and moved across to the table, talking quietly. Then, to her great surprise, Liz saw Fane shake Bruno’s hand and pat him on the back.

Fane turned around. ‘Bruno has just told me something that has come as a complete surprise. You won’t often hear me say that,’ he said with a rare touch of self-mockery. ‘Go on, tell them, Bruno.’

For the first time in a long acquaintance with Bruno, Liz could see he was embarrassed. ‘Er,’ he started, then hesitated. He took a deep breath, then said, ‘I’ve just told Geoffrey that I’ve got engaged. I’m going to get married.’

Peggy and Liz were transfixed. This was the great Lothario of MI6 speaking. The most famous bachelor in the intelligence community.

Peggy recovered first. ‘Do we know her?’

‘Yes. You do and she’s a great admirer of yours and Liz. It’s Sally Mortimer. That’s why I stopped in Berlin. I wanted to grab her before one of those Germans took her out of my grasp.’

‘From what I saw of them, there’s not much fear of that,’ said Peggy. ‘I’m so pleased, Bruno. She’s great. But I hope you aren’t going to whisk her away from Berlin. She’s doing so well there.’

‘We certainly can’t allow that,’ chipped in Fane severely. ‘I’m always being told that a woman’s career comes first.’

‘Congratulations, Bruno.’ Liz was beaming. ‘This is news I never thought I’d hear. I wish we could whistle up a bottle of champagne. There’s another cause for celebration today. Have you heard that Peggy’s been promoted?’

More handshakes and smiles all round until Liz said, ‘Sorry to break up this bonhomie , but I think we’d better finish our analysis of what’s been going on and decide what if anything more we need to do.

‘I’m glad you’re back, Bruno,’ she went on, ‘because we need to try to understand the Moscow angle on what’s been happening here and in Germany and in the States. You’ll all remember that we originally learned about the FSB’s Illegals operations in the West from our source Mischa, and his information came from his brother the FSB officer, who we now know is Boris Bebchuk.

‘It was as a result of his information that we were able to uncover the two Illegals operating here, the Karpis couple, who were sent back to Moscow last year. Mischa also told us that there was another Illegal at work in America but that he was ill and not operating. The FBI persevered with that lead and eventually identified the man who had been working at Vermont University in the IT Department. He was dying but their interest was aroused when a mysterious visitor appeared who seemed to have been sent to clear up after he died. Everything else that has followed sprang from that.’

‘Yes,’ broke in Bruno, ‘and on our side, we and the Agency decided we would make a recruitment pitch to Mischa’s brother, who seemed to be the source of all this information.’ He looked at Fane. ‘So I went off to Moscow. I thought I was doing rather well there. Our Station in Moscow, working with the Americans, had found the brother, Boris Bebchuk. I got alongside him, cast the fly and he was nibbling at it. Another cast and I was confident I’d have him hooked, when you pulled me out. What happened?’

‘You should be glad we did get you out while we could,’ said Fane sharply.

‘We had a pretty clear warning,’ said Liz, ‘that the FSB were on to you. There was every possibility that if you’d shown up for that lunch with Boris, you would have been taken in for questioning.’

‘You mean my cover was blown?’

Fane said, ‘Almost certainly. Apparently, after you failed to turn up, security people went round to your flat and took it to pieces.’

Bruno looked startled. He turned to Liz, ‘But how did you learn that the FSB were on to me?’

‘About ten days ago, Mischa called me to another meeting in Berlin. He gave me a message – it was a warning, really – that no one should make a pitch at Boris. He clearly knew that someone was sniffing around his brother; he seemed to think it was the Americans, but that may just have been a blind. We know all his information has come from Boris, so it was clearly a message from Boris. He must have sussed you.’