‘Haven’t I done that? Haven’t I done it by asking you about your reaction to M’s briefing? There was no way I could get that except from the horse’s mouth.’
Bond waited, still wary. He examined his own mental and physical state and knew he was not drugged. This was all very real and Smolin’s story became more probable the more he heard.
‘James, the job we’re in – it’s like living within a set of Chinese boxes and never knowing exactly who or what is in which box. I know about the telephone call you received yesterday morning, about your lunch at Blades and your walk in the park. I know you spent the afternoon going through the files and what happened at Heather’s beauty salon.’ He paused, looking very serious now. ‘I tried hard to head off that bloody KGB team but it was too late. I know about the escape, your double-switch at Heathrow and your telephone conversations here – including those with Inspector Murray.’ He leaned forward in the chair, putting his face close to Bond. ‘You see, I have committed the cardinal sin within any intelligence organisation. I knew what Heather was when she made her first pass at me and I checked out the others. At any moment I could have hauled them all in, but I did not.’
‘Why?’
‘Because when I was approached I wanted to be approached. I wanted to get out. I knew it; had to live with it. Heather offered me a way of escape and like a fool I took it. And what happened? They asked me to stay in place; to become even more of a monster than before. What better cover, James?’
‘Who asked you?’
‘Heather, whom I love dearly, then Swift and finally M.’
‘Where?’
‘In a safe house in West Berlin. On a day trip. M agreed to keep Heather under wraps. I agreed to work for him. We set up codes, contacts, cutouts, and so it went on until the KGB began to sniff around what had really been happening five years before. It’s only a matter of time before they link me with Cream Cake. Then unless I can jump it’s Moscow and a quick bullet if I’m lucky; one of the cancer wards or the Gulag if I’m not. The same goes for you, James. For all of us.’
Bond had yet to be convinced that this was the complete story.
‘If this is true, why wasn’t I told?’
For a stomach-churning second he again realised that even in discussing events with Smolin he was answering questions, providing a skilled interrogator with all he required.
‘Need-to-know. Your cunning old M is too wily a bird. You were the man for the job, but you didn’t have to know about me. It was a chance in a million that we would meet. M’s instructions to me were to watch from a distance and let you get the girls out, then pick up Jungle.’ His eyes narrowed and the creases of anxiety showed in his forehead. ‘I don’t think he realised that I was so surrounded by KGB and that I couldn’t call off their hit team. Also, up until late yesterday he had no idea of the latest developments. We spoke during the early hours of this morning, first through Murray, who had contacted him, and later on a secure line. M thought I might still have a chance of staying in place. But he was wrong. I’ve almost certainly been blown, James, and I must get out. I need your help because we have been thoroughly penetrated by KGB. I’ve told you, at least one is in my team, and probably more than one. The real threat here is that bitch of a housekeeper, Ingrid. She’s certainly KGB. Black Ingrid, as they call her in certain circles, is deputy and probably mistress of the man after your Cream Cake team. Beware of her, my friend. It might look as though those damned dogs regard me as their master, but I assure you the dogs are doubles too. Ingrid’s their real controller. She can countermand my orders to them any time and they will obey.’ He gave a humourless smile. ‘And before you ask, yes they were trained in that windowless complex behind the walls and wire on the old Khodinka airfield.’
What had Smolin to lose by telling him all this – or for that matter, to gain?
‘If I go along with you, Maxim, what do you need from me? You have a plan, have you? Like getting me to take you and the girls to Jungle Baisley’s hideout so you can put the lot of us in the bag?’
‘Don’t be stupid, James. You think the KGB won’t know where he’s hiding out by now? You think they won’t have double-checked Susanne’s movements? By this time, those two are probably as near to being in the bag as we are.’
‘And who’s this honoured guest you’ve been talking about? The one due in tonight?’
‘At last you ask.’ His expression was clear and calm; the calm before the hurricane strikes.
‘Well?’
‘You know me as Basilisk, yes? Cryptonym, Basilisk, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you, then, James, happen to know the cryptonym Blackfriar?
Bond felt his heart thump, and stomach turn over wildly. ‘Christ!’
‘Quite. Our guest is Blackfriar.’
It took a few seconds for Bond to assimilate the information.
‘Konstantin Nikolaevich Chernov. General Chernov.’
‘Christ,’ Bond repeated, ‘Kolya Chernov?’
‘As you say, James, Kolya Chernov – to his few friends. The Chief Investigating officer of Department 8, Directorate S, which was once Department V, and before that . . .’
‘SMERSH.’
‘With whom you have had dealings on several occasions.’ Smolin spoke slowly, as though each word had a hidden meaning. ‘And Konstantin Nikolaevich has a reputation that makes my own appear blameless.’
Bond frowned. Not only was he aware of General Chernov’s reputation but knew his file intimately. Kolya Chernov was responsible for dozens of black operations that had caused mayhem within both the British and American intelligence communities. He was also a man of crude and cruel cunning. Bond guessed he would be hated by many in the Russian services as well. Blackfriar was a living nightmare to Bond’s Service.
He conjured up a picture from the photographs on the file: a slim, tall man with his body well toned by exercise. Blackfriar was known to be a health fanatic who neither smoked nor drank alcohol. His IQ went off the scale, and he was well established as a dirty tricks planner of immense ingenuity. He was also a tenaciously shrewd investigator. His file showed that he had sent at least thirty members of the KGB and GRU to their deaths or the Gulag for infringements of discipline. One defector was on record as saying, ‘Being what he is, Blackfriar has the knack of scenting even the tiniest deviation at ten paces, and he follows it up like a hell-hound.’ Bond closed his eyes and let his head droop. Suddenly he felt both exhausted and worried, not for himself, but for the two girls.
‘It must be important if he’s coming into the field,’ he murmured.
‘It is the first time in my own memory.’ Either Smolin was a very good actor or he was filled with dread even discussing the General. ‘Let me tell you, James, when I first blew Cream Cake, it was a matter for the Germans, for HVA and of course GRU. It has taken time for KGB to sniff out the existence of Jungle, the turning of Susanne Dietrich and of Maxim Smolin.’ He banged his own chest with a balled fist.
‘It has taken them five years.’ Bond’s voice was flat, as though his mind was elsewhere.
‘Four, to be exact. It was last year that KGB reopened the files and decided to investigate the case, going over our heads. They do not like GRU to feel that they are an élite body. They dislike our methods, our secrecy, our way of recruitment from within the Army. I have heard Chernov himself say that we smack of the hated SS from the Great Patriotic War.
‘At first the reinvestigation was fairly low grade. They did some cross-checking here and there. Then Chernov arrived in Berlin. I flashed warnings to your people, but I dared not make a move. After only a week there were a number of field changes and it didn’t take a lot of brain to work out that the KGB were boxing me in. I have been watched and monitored for the past six months. It is Chernov’s own team who are on the loose and his orders are that the girls are to be rooted out, killed and left with their tongues cut from their mouths – as the French say, pour encourager les autres.’