Krogh – with Petrin as his constant travelling protector – was back in London by late afternoon, although as had become their custom there was no open contact between them until they got to Kensington and the usual reception committee of Russians. To whom, generally and without sufficient thought, Krogh announced he did not need to visit the British factory any more.
‘Good!’ said Petrin at once and ahead of Losev, his open satisfaction reminiscent of the moment Krogh wrongly declared he was finished, in San Francisco’s McLaren Park. ‘So what’s the positive completion date?’ The demand had arrived from Moscow overnight: there’d been no explanation but the request had the highest priority designation and was in Berenkov’s name.
Krogh gestured towards Guzins, hunched at the large document table over the drawings already completed but still unreleased, scribbling reminder notes for later queries in a lined notebook. ‘Shouldn’t you be asking him?’
‘I’m asking you!’
‘I don’t know,’ refused Krogh, enjoying his flimsy superiority. ‘The completion if I am allowed to work uninterrupted will be very different from when I can possibly finish if we have to endure the nonsense of these nightly question-and-answer sessions.’
Losev had officially received the completion date demand, as the London rezident, and was enjoying the difficulty of his American counterpart. Wanting to exacerbate it he used English to talk to Petrin, so that the American could understand. Losev said: ‘Moscow was very insistent, remember?’
Petrin ignored the intrusion. ‘I’ll say…’ he started and then hesitated, showing his uncertainty.
Krogh was immediately aware of it. Cutting in quickly he said: ‘It doesn’t really matter what you say, does it? I am the person doing the job and I say I can’t give you a positive date yet.’
Guzins seemed to become aware of a dispute going on in the room, although he could not understand what was being said. The moustached space scientist blinked up from his drawings, eyes moving between each of the other men in the room. ‘Is there a problem?’ he asked mildly.
‘Be quiet,’ dismissed Petrin, exasperated at how he’d so easily lost control of the situation and knowing there was little he could do to recover. Capitulating, he said to the American: ‘Give me your estimate, then?’
‘I can’t,’ insisted Krogh adamantly, buoyed with unexpected courage.
‘That’s going to irritate Moscow,’ suggested Losev, again talking to the other Russian but still in English.
Petrin looked contemptuously at the man, groping for a necessarily crushing retort. ‘But not as much, I’m sure, as your abysmal failure to get what was required from here in the first place,’ he managed. It was not as good as he would have liked but it was good enough. Losev’s face flared at once and Petrin thought, contentedly: More than good enough.
‘I have a lot of questions,’ said Guzins from the work table.
‘Later,’ ordered Petrin curtly.
‘Do you want me to talk? Or draw?’ demanded Krogh.
‘Draw,’ said Petrin. Heavily he added: ‘Draw quickly.’
‘There’s Moscow’s cable, which requires an answer,’ said Losev, trying to fight back.
‘Which I want to see before it is transmitted,’ said Petrin.
Alexei Berenkov was displeased by the difficulties that appeared to be arising in England but not as seriously as either of the Russian rezidents in London imagined he would be.
Photographs of what was being stolen from Britain had always been an important part of the ensnarement Berenkov was plotting for Charlie Muffin. The abrupt and delaying insistences of Yuri Guzins merely required their being taken sooner and more extensively than he had originally intended, but in many respects that would be a useful rehearsal. The need for the introduction at all also showed that any delay was caused by the obstructiveness of the Baikonur scientists, not from any inability of the First Chief Directorate of the KGB, which was a positive bonus.
The impossibility yet to get a specific date when they could expect to have a full set of drawings for the Star Wars missile housing was slightly more aggravating, because Berenkov could not move against Charlie Muffin as he intended until the drawings were safely completed. But here again there was a lot more for Berenkov to establish before the trap could be effectively and destructively sprung, so the inconvenience was minimal.
Berenkov did not inform London of either easy reaction, however. He demanded that Krogh be constantly pressed, to provide a finishing date, and in the same batch of instructions – sent not through the intercepted channel but in the unread diplomatic bag – ordered Losev to re-establish contact with Henry Blackstone and advise the man to expect a new control under a new codename, Visitor. The same day as Berenkov dispatched those instructions he sent a message over the open channel. It read: ALERT VISITOR SOUTHWARDS.
36
All she could do was apologize, decided Natalia: admit to Charlie she’d behaved ridiculously and that she didn’t know why and ask him to forgive her and say of course she wanted to stay and be with him for ever. Which she’d always known she did and dreamed about and all she’d thought about from the day he’d left her in Moscow and made even more ridiculous what had happened the previous night. Of course she was frightened: would be, for weeks and months and years. But that wasn’t sufficient reason for what she’d done and said. Or rather, hadn’t said. Natalia hadn’t known then and didn’t know now why she’d been so stupid. Stupid and ridiculous and…her mind seized, trying to find words in either Russian or English brutal enough to fit her idiocy and self-anger and failing. Just apologize: hold him and love him and apologize.
Natalia was impatient for the day to be over, to put things right between them. She was distracted at the air show, which she didn’t enjoy anyway because there was too much noise and too much technical discussion and because she couldn’t really see the purpose of her being there at all. And unconsciously – but dangerously – dismissive to others in the Soviet delegation until Gennadi Redin asked if something were wrong or if she were unwell, and Natalia made a belatedly determined effort to show she was neither and take attention – and curiosity – away from herself. She was early in the hotel bar that night and among the last to leave for the dining room, and table-hopped in their enclosed section until she was sure she was no longer the focus of any particular interest from the KGB escorts.
But always, to the minute, aware of the time. She pleaded tiredness to free herself from the tactile Golovanov over coffee in the lounge and was back in her room by eleven, careful to travel up to the sixth floor with another female interpreter and be seen to enter her room. Inside she stayed close to the door, intent upon the sounds from the corridor. The lift arrived, forcing her to withdraw, the first time she tried to leave. Natalia allowed five minutes before attempting to leave again. This time the corridor was deserted. She locked her door and in seconds was at the central stairway which looped around the lift-shaft, pushing through the firedoors but stopping on the landing, listening now for the sound of anyone climbing up to confront her. She heard nothing and started down, walking quite openly, the explanation of changing her mind and deciding to rejoin the late-night group in the coffee lounge or the bar already prepared, as it had been every night she had descended like this. Natalia encountered no one going down to the third floor, where she stopped, listening once more. There was still no sound from below. And the corridor along the third floor was empty. Now she hurried, thrusting through the firedoors and scurrying the short distance to Charlie’s door, which was ajar as it had always been.