“Why did you not tell me about Archangel, Comrade Stalin? You could have trusted me.”
“I thought it was the NKVD’s business to know everything.’
“I have never, interfered in your affairs,” Beria said.
Stalin was tempted to correct the lie. “It had to appear to be Shaposhnikov’s own plan,” he said. “If Churchill and Roosevelt were ever to suspect my own involvement, what credibility would we have had at the negotiating table? Apart from Sabak, here, there is only one other person in the world still alive who knows the secret of Archangel.” He paused. “See that it stays that way.”
Beria felt the power draining from his body. “But what about the chemicals — the hydrogen cyanide? He was going to launch, Comrade Stalin, I am sure of it.”
Stalin moved back to the desk and sat. After busying himself for a moment with a sheaf of papers he looked up once more. “As I said, the Marshal will be buried with full military honours, Comrade. That will be all.”
Sabak let the sound of Beria’s footsteps fade in the corridor outside. “Among other things, Comrade Stalin, it appears you have brought the wolf to heel.”
“A necessary bonus,” Stalin said. “Beria’s appetite for power has to be curbed.”
“There is still something that intrigues me,” Sabak said. “Was Shaposhnikov planning to take your orders a step farther? Was he really going to launch?”
Stalin eased himself back in his chair. “Shaposhnikov was a dangerous man. That was why he was ideal for the job, why Paliev had to watch him, and why we were always going to have to hand him over to Beria at some point. The Nerchenko girl played her part admirably.”
“The murder of his family…?”
“It appears you dropped the details into Beria’s lap just in time.”
Sabak’s look hardened. “Then you…?”
“Yes, I think Shaposhnikov was going to do it. Why else did he not tell the NKVD that Archangel was just a maskirovka before he was shot?”
“Because to him Archangel was real.” Sabak nodded slowly. “That’s why Paliev headed east. He was trying to warn us.”
“Poor Yuri Petrovich,” Stalin said. “He ended up doing the most effective job of all.”
EPILOGUE
It was a strange place for a reunion.
Fleming found them standing at the edge of the cemetery. The ranks of marble tombstones stretched in one direction towards a small chapel, and in the other to the road out of London. He had barely noticed it before, even though he had driven past many times on the way to the cottage.
He picked his way through the stones, the vicar’s last words drifting over to him as the box was lowered into the ground. Penny had her back to him, but he had no trouble picking her out.
On the other side of the grave, a young woman cried softly, the blue uniform visible beneath her overcoat telling him that she must have been one of the little boy’s nurses. A young man, standing close by, moved his arm gently around her shoulders.
Apart from two old gravediggers, their faces chapped from years of wind and rain, there was no one else there.
He reached Penny’s side just as the first spadeful of earth was cast on top of the rough wooden box.
She raised her head, the hair falling away from her face. It was as if he was looking at her for the first time. Although there were tears in her eyes, she smiled and took his hand.
He stood, gazing at her. In the two days he had been back, during the endless hours of debriefing from Deering and Welland, he had thought of little else apart from this moment. When finally he had been able to talk to her on the telephone, he promised he would come as quickly as possible.
Penny put her arms round him. They stood there, holding each other, he did not know for how long. Fleming felt her body give, heard the sound of her crying into his shoulder.
“Are you really home, Robert?”
He held her at arm’s length and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“I’m home,” he said.
She squeezed his hand again, then released it, turning back towards the grave. A small corner of the coffin was still visible.
Penny pulled something from her pocket and threw it tenderly into the hole. The handkerchief landed on the last exposed patch of wood, the loosely tied knot parting the moment it did so.
“God bless you,” she said.
Fleming caught a fleeting glimpse of the medal ribbons before they were covered by another spadeful of earth and buried for ever.
Penny lifted her eyes to his, searching his face.
Fleming nodded, then turned her gently towards the far off gates, beyond which the car was waiting.