David Oldman - Dusk at Dawn

Well, they had almost got it right. He wasn’t going back. The part about his war being over, though, they hadn’t got right at all. He was going to Russia.

‘We’ll allow you sufficient funds to cover all requirements in your absence,’ Cumming droned on, seeming in no hurry. ‘You’ll not find the Department ungenerous.’

Paul sneaked a look at his watch. It had already gone three o’clock — only two hours until the train — and he wondered how much more there was.

His mind wandered. Cumming’s offer was a lifeline. Although he couldn’t help thinking of the proverb, ‘never look a gift horse in the mouth’, and stop Valentine drifting insidiously through his head, dragging a string of contradictory proverbs behind him: ‘once bitten, twice shy… beware of Greeks bearing gifts’…

Particularly gift horses?

Yet the twist was, Cumming was offering him money.

‘Browning will take you to Miss Henslowe for the formalities,’ Cumming finally finished, reaching across the desk and offering Paul his hand. ‘Keep your wits about you. If Kell’s right and they’ve managed to get an agent aboard the steamer you’ll do well to trust no one. Get out of that uniform and into civvies. Hart will fill you in on the details. Remember, we’re relying on you. You could hold the fate of Russia and the outcome of the war in your hands.’

Paul said nothing. He didn’t want the fate of Russia in his hands. Never mind the outcome of the war. It was all very well Cumming telling him to trust no one and that Hart would fill him in on the details, when he didn’t even know Hart. But before he was able to give voice to these reservations, Browning was bundling him out of the door and down the corridor again.

‘Look, sir,’ he said over his shoulder after they had gone a few yards, ‘I don’t want to sound ungrateful, or as if I was windy about all this, but are you sure I’m the man for the job?’

Browning regarded him with eyes that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a fisherman’s keepnet.

‘Personally? No, I’m not.’

‘Oh,’ said Paul. ‘Why does Captain Cumming think I am, then, with as much riding on it as—’

‘C,’ Browning said.

‘Pardon?’

‘You call him C if you have to call him anything at all. His name is confidential.’

‘Well then, with as much as C said is riding on it. Wouldn’t you be better off with someone experienced in this sort of game? Hart, or this fellow Steveni who stayed behind, for instance?’

‘My argument entirely,’ Browning agreed with irritating equanimity. ‘Here we are.’

Browning knocked at the door and walked straight in. A startlingly attractive girl with auburn hair and lively eyes was sitting behind a desk. Browning suddenly turned affable.

‘We’re all set, Dorothy. Briefed and ready for the fray.’

‘Not until the paperwork is complete, Colonel,’ she replied smiling, not at Browning but at Paul.

She flicked through some papers on the desk and one by one turned them around so that Paul could see each. ‘Sign here, here and here,’ she said, an elegant finger indicating each line.

The first sheet was a receipt for the rail warrant already in his pocket. He signed for it. Then signed the rest without reading them.

‘Thank you, Captain,’ Miss Henslowe said, gathering the sheets together. She turned to Browning. ‘If you would, Colonel?’

Browning knelt at a large safe standing in the corner of the room. Taking a key from his pocket he unlocked it. Miss Henslowe left her desk and opened a door to the adjoining room. ‘Elsie, if you’re ready…’

She returned to the desk and placed a steamer ticket in front of Paul. ‘Your travel documents. There is also an address in Petrograd of a safe house where you may stay. But for no more than two nights.’

Another girl came through the door carrying a heavy coat, biting a thread off its hem with her teeth. Elsie was blonde and petite and rather to Paul’s liking. He smiled at her and she smiled back and held the coat up for him to put on.

‘Try it for size,’ Miss Henslowe said.

There was no insignia to denote it was an army greatcoat although that was undoubtedly what it was. Paul slipped his arms through the sleeves and shrugged it on. It felt heavier than it should.

‘They’re in the lining,’ Browning said from the safe. ‘Gold Imperials. Roubles. So try not to lose the coat, will you?’

Elsie brushed the shoulders of the coat down with her hands once or twice until Miss Henslowe said, ‘Thank you, Elsie, that will do,’ and dismissed her.

Browning returned to the desk carrying an envelope and a bundle of banknotes. He handed both to Miss Henslowe who counted the notes out, a mix of British, Russian and Finnish, Paul saw.

Browning explained that the notes were to pay Paul’s expenses while travelling in Finland and Russia; the gold roubles were a hedge against the inflation of paper money.

‘The Treasury believes Lenin is following a deliberately inflationary policy to undermine the value of Russian money by printing billions of rouble notes. He thinks it the quickest way of pauperising the aristocratic and land-owning classes. The bourgeoisie will be ruined as well, but I suppose that serves his purposes, too. Apart from the pre-war banknotes, there are also notes known as Kerenki in circulation — printed by the Provisional Government. And now Bolshevik accounting talons as well. Imperial gold roubles used to be worth no more than face value, the higher denominations quite rare. With rouble paper money losing its value it was thought providing you with gold coin the safest course. Before the war, of course, travellers to Russia could carry British sovereigns and letters of credit. Now the Bolsheviks have taken the banks into state control the latter would be of little use. Your being caught with sovereigns, naturally, would instantly give the game away.’

Miss Henslowe filled out a docket for the banknotes and passed it to Paul.

‘Receipt it here please, Captain Ross.’

Paul signed again and Miss Henslowe gave the docket to Browning who placed it in the safe before locking the door again.

‘Now,’ she said handing Paul the envelope. ‘This contains the letter of which you have received instructions. Were they clear?’ She waited until he had nodded his assent before continuing. ‘Should you believe yourself in imminent danger of arrest you should destroy the letter rather than risk it falling into Bolshevik hands.’ She gave him a stern look. ‘You have understood all that C has told you, Captain Ross?’

‘Perfectly.’

‘Good,’ she said, ‘then that concludes our business,’ and without any more ado re-addressed herself to the paperwork on her desk.

‘Thank you, Miss Henslowe,’ Browning said in the ensuing silence. ‘As efficient as ever…’

Miss Henslowe didn’t reply and after a moment Browning took Paul’s arm and guided him back out the door. He escorted him along the corridor once more and a moment later they were standing on the roof again, Paul starting to sweat under the greatcoat.

Browning checked his watch. ‘You’ve plenty of time to settle your affairs and make the train but don’t miss it or you’ll have to pick up the steamer in Hull. Hart will supply you with your Russian documents and get you across the Russian border. Once your mission with Mikhail Rostov and the Legion is completed you’re on your own. You’ll be expected to make your own way back as best you can. Whatever happens, you have no official connections with the British Government or the Intelligence Service, is that understood? We don’t know you.’ He held out his hand and took Paul’s briefly. ‘Good luck, Ross or Rostov or whatever your name is.’ He nodded towards the iron bridge and the door on the far roof. ‘Make your own way back.’