Knox hoped Manning’s mask would finally slip and he’d give himself away. But he just sighed, gave the Watchers a nod, and walked over to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the hall, both hands back in his jacket pockets.
With a reassuring look to Bennett, Knox let himself be led out of the room. When the door closed again behind Knox and the Watchers, she turned to Finney and steeled herself for her own battle.
‘What are you going to do with me?’ she asked. She was ready to lay out everything for anyone who would listen, here, in Grosvenor Square, or even Langley, to prove that she’d spotted what everyone else had missed – that the CIA had been compromised just as badly as MI5.
‘Nothing,’ Finney replied.
‘What?’ Bennett had expected a tirade to match Manning’s, but there was no fire in Finney’s eyes, no sign he was going to snatch at any of the bait she’d dangled in front of him.
‘I don’t deal with the clerical staff,’ he said.
CHAPTER 54
Valera sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. She’d spent the last however many hours watching the colour of the sky slowly start to deepen. In Povenets B or Leningrad in July it would be as light as it was outside now until long into the night. Sunset in Stockholm would be late and brief too. But she suspected she wasn’t in Sweden any more.
Five minutes ago she’d heard the heavy click of a lock and the deep groan of the large metal door being opened and closed. Then there were footsteps on the stairs and a prolonged sequence of shuffles and sounds from the other end of the house.
Now she heard more footsteps approaching the bedroom. She stood up. She wanted to face whoever had come to visit her on her feet. The steps stopped briefly outside the door, then with a gentle nudge it swung open to reveal a man in a grey suit carrying a tray with a teapot and two teacups.
‘Ah, Miss Valera, you’re awake,’ Peterson said, a broad smile across his face. ‘Wonderful.’
‘Who are you?’ she demanded. Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she realised she hadn’t drunk anything since she’d devoured the pot of jam she’d found in the fridge as fast as if it had been ice-cold water, fresh from a mountain stream.
‘I’m Devereux,’ Peterson replied. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. How are you feeling?’
‘Where am I?’
‘You’re safe. Don’t worry, you’re not back in Russia. You’re in London.’ Peterson gave the broken chair on the floor a brief, quizzical look, then put the tray down on the end of the bed. As he got closer to Valera, she instinctively backed away from him, ending up on the other side of the chair, pressed against the impenetrable window.
‘Would you like some tea?’ he asked.
Valera’s mouth felt even drier at the mention of tea, but she stayed where she was.
‘Who do you work for?’ she asked.
‘British intelligence,’ Peterson replied, as he poured a cup of the hot, fragrant liquid. ‘We like to keep tabs on everyone who makes it through the Curtain. We had a feeling the KGB might make a play for you in Stockholm, and when they did we thought it best to step in.’ He poured a second cup. ‘We weren’t fast enough to stop them, but we followed the extraction team that kidnapped you to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city and made our move there. I’m sorry we couldn’t get to you sooner, I know how brutal KGB interrogations can be.’
Valera thought back to Skansen. Her memory was still a little hazy and distorted, but she remembered Medev trying to persuade her to go back to Russia.
‘The man who was killed. He said he was a KGB general.’
‘KGB maybe, but not a general. He was a ploy to soften you up.’
‘But they shot him in the head.’
‘A mistake. Though you never know, the KGB isn’t particularly concerned about collateral damage.’
‘What about the others? The man and the woman.’
‘You don’t need to worry about them either.’
Peterson offered her a cup of tea. She reached out and took it from him, but she didn’t drink it.
‘I hope you like Earl Grey,’ he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
He picked up his own cup and took a large gulp. Valera watched him swallow, then, reassured that she wasn’t about to be poisoned, tried hers. She winced as the tea hit her tongue. It was hot and bitter, and tasted like it had been stewed for far too long.
Peterson smiled. ‘I like it rather strong, I’m afraid. I could get you some sugar, or honey?’
‘No,’ Valera replied. ‘This will be fine, thank you.’
She took another couple of sips, beginning to enjoy the feeling of the liquid soothing her dry throat. Her body relaxed, leaning against the window rather than pressing against it. ‘So, Mr Devereux, what do you want from me?’
Peterson smiled again, and put his cup back on the tray. ‘The British government wants you to be safe,’ he said. ‘And we are in a position to help make sure that’s exactly what you are.’
‘That is very generous of you.’
‘Well, it’s not an entirely altruistic act. We, of course, expect a quid pro quo.’
‘Of course,’ Valera replied.
‘To be rather blunt, we need to know why the KGB was so eager to get you back. And, I’m afraid we need to know quickly.’
‘So you can decide if I’m worth protecting?’
‘To be even more blunt, yes.’
‘And if I told you I don’t know why they were after me? That I’m just a lowly comrade desperate to build a new life in the West?’
‘Then I’d ask you not to waste my time.’
Valera took another sip of her tea. ‘Am I free to leave here if I want?’
‘Of course. You’re not a prisoner.’
‘Then why was the door locked?’
‘For your protection.’ Peterson topped up his cup. He raised the pot to Valera, but she shook her head. ‘You had an awful lot of drugs pumping through your system. You needed time for them to wear off somewhere you couldn’t hurt yourself. Now you’re feeling better, you can do whatever you like.’ He took a sip of tea. ‘But the vultures are circling. It won’t take the Russians long to work out where you’ve ended up. You can take your chances with them, or you can give me the information I need to convince the powers that be that we ought to keep them at bay.’
It was the same negotiation Valera had gone through over and over – her knowledge in exchange for her safety, and the implication that her life would be forfeit if she didn’t cooperate. It might be more polite now, coming from a smiling man serving her tea rather than Zukolev looming over her or masked figures in a dark room, but it was still the age-old threat.
Her best, and only, option was to stall. ‘I need time to think,’ she said.
‘Unfortunately neither of us has that luxury,’ Peterson replied.
‘Then take me to meet your scientists. I will talk to them about my work.’
It was another delaying tactic, but it was also a perfectly reasonable request. The Swedish security service had checked out her academic credentials before they even put her on a plane to Stockholm. She couldn’t imagine a member of British intelligence not wanting to do the same thing.
The edge of Peterson’s smile started to drop. ‘There’ll be time for all that, but right now I need to give my superiors something that demonstrates your willingness to work with us.’
Valera stood her ground. ‘Tell your superiors I’ll work with you once you guarantee my safety.’
Peterson’s mouth twisted into a tight grimace. ‘You’re in no position to dictate terms here.’
‘I am free to do what I want,’ she said. ‘Unless you were lying.’