Wu Ming - 54

Cary nodded to him to continue.

‘As regards the visit to your mother, it is important that you should be extremely careful. You are well known in Bristol, and so is your mother, and the journalists in the provinces are always chasing after news.’

‘I can’, Cary interrupted him, ‘reassure you on that count. To avoid being mobbed, I have stipulated a pact with the local press. They leave me in peace and in return, before I go back to America, I will undertake to see the journalists who wish to interview me. Of course I have no intention of doing any such thing on this occasion, but at least my mother’s house will not be besieged by photographers.’

‘That makes everything easier, Mr Grant. We had thought about organising the meeting in a hotel, but as I understand it that will not be necessary.’

‘For pity’s sake! My mother couldn’t bear to meet me in a strange place, it would make her impossibly nervous.’

Sir Charles relit his pipe, taking long puffs, and offered Cary a cigar. He suddenly felt that Betsy was very far away. Having smoked three packs of cigarettes a day before his wife helped him to stop, he suddenly yielded to temptation. The pungent taste of cigar combined on his tongue with the aroma of the Scotch.

‘Sadly you will have to travel by car to Bristol, there’s no way round it. We can’t allow you to use the civilian airport, and the military airport is not near enough to the city. Do you think you might ask your mother to be careful not to give too many details away if she mentions your visit to anyone?’

‘I don’t think that will be a problem. If I started talking about Marshal Tito and Anglo-American interests in Yugoslavia she’d stop me after the first three words. I’ll find a way to satisfy her curiosity without revealing anything about the mission.’

‘Good,’ Sir Charles smiled enthusiastically, ‘very good. Then let’s deal with everything else. The important thing, Mr Grant, is that you should reach Trieste by the end of the month. As long as we stick to that, you will be able to organise your time as you see fit, with the one reservation that you should stay abreast of your schedules, and avoid public places and public transport. Over the next few days you will have to acquaint yourself with the details of the mission. You will leave for Trieste from the airport at which you landed this morning. Once you have arrived there, you will be driven to the border, where one of our functionaries will be waiting for you. He will accompany you as far as Dubrovnik. From there, the Yugoslavians will bring you to Tito’s secret residence, about which I know little: it is a pleasant place, in all likelihood an island, in the south of the country. Obviously one of our agents will be with you at all times, our best man, you will meet him tomorrow. And that is all.’

‘All right, Sir Charles,’ replied Cary. ‘If it isn’t a problem for you, I’d like to set off for Bristol tomorrow. I would spend the night there and come back here the following day.’

Perhaps it was Archie who had spoken. Perhaps it was the approach of an adventure, of the unknown. Archie Leach, so close to home, was trying to escape.

‘And now,’ Cary continued, rising to his feet, ‘if there’s nothing else, I would very much like to get some rest.’

He held his hand out to Sir Charles, who shook it firmly. The chauffeur, reappearing in the doorway, asked Cary which suitcases he wished to unload.

Outside, the wind had subsided, but the usual fog was coming down. Cary had taken out an overnight bag, just enough for a change of clothes. Then he reached towards the front seat, where he had left the leather folder containing Hitch’s screenplay.

As he did so, he noticed a strange book on the dashboard. Casino Royale by Ian Fleming. He picked up the book and closed the door.

‘Is this yours?’ he asked the chauffeur.

‘Yes, are you interested in it? Take it, I finished it while I was waiting for you at the airport.’

‘Thanks, I haven’t brought anything to read apart from work. Is it any good?’

The driver shrugged. ‘It made me angry. If only our lives really were like that: beautiful women, gadgets and fist-fights. And to think that the author is one of us. A commander in the Naval Intelligence Department, it says there. But to pass the time. ’

Cary smiled. A novel by a former secret agent. The most appropriate reading matter he could have found.

Chapter 45

Vienna, Soviet Sector, 25 April

General Serov and I have fought together, did you know that, Comrade Zhulianov? You will have to pass on my greetings when you return to Moscow. Cigarette? Of course.

The head of the Military Secret Services in Vienna maintained a superficially friendly tone, just enough to avoid creating a bad impression.

Having responsibility for the Eastern sector of the city, I must advise you against walking around the city. We are still at the front here, there are spies everywhere, and the Americans are always trying to infiltrate us. For your own safety, and for the purposes of secrecy, it would be better if you stayed in your hotel, Comrade Zhulianov.

He immediately noticed that people lowered their eyes as he passed, then turned surreptitiously to peer at his back. Everyone looked at him, but it was General Serov’s shadow that they saw cast on the wall.

I will ensure that you want for nothing. If you need anything at all, my assistant will be at your disposal.

The hotel was an old Jugendstil building that had been requisitioned by the army. The officers and the diplomatic corps lived on the floor where he was staying.

For reasons of security, Comrade, as you well understand.

He couldn’t blame them for their circumspection, but at the same time he felt uneasy, he imagined them all there with their ears pressed to the walls of the old room. And perhaps that wasn’t so far from the Schwindsuchtstrasse. He remembered the motto of his professor at the High School: ‘Only friends have bigger ears than the enemy.’

He put his few clothes in the wardrobe, changed his shirt and went downstairs.

The other man already sitting waiting for him. They shook hands. The man introduced himself as Kaminsky. They ordered two coffees.

He looked like a post office clerk. A fat man with a receding hairline and heavy-framed glasses. Secret agents were like that. In that job, the less conspicuous you were, the better it was for everyone. Zhulianov had known a few of them in Berlin. ‘Vague stains on an urban landscape’ was what his colonel had called them. Grey, apparently pointless lives that would never arouse suspicion. No sentimental bond, no friendships beyond the cordial relations of good neighbours, walks in the park, stale dinners and a larder full of tins.

Kaminsky spoke in a low voice, articulating his words, eyes fixed on his steaming cup.

‘I’ve been asked to give you the coded orders,’ and from under the table he handed him a large yellow sealed envelope. ‘Inside you will find the new documents as well, a railway ticket and a boarding card. You will have to travel to Venice by train. There you will embark as an ordinary seaman on the Varna , a Bulgarian merchant ship. Did they give you a password in Moscow?’

‘Yes.’

‘You must use it only at the moment of embarkation, with the commander of the vessel. He will ask you for it as you hand him the second envelope. If anyone else does, no matter who they may be, kill him and consider the mission abandoned.’

He said it with absolute calm, almost indifference.

‘Is that all clear?’

Zhulianov said that it was.

‘Fine. My task finishes here. Goodbye, and good luck.’