There weren’t that many, so it only took Sampson minutes. As he handed the list back, Sampson said, it’s an alphabetical progression. Having detected me, I’ll guess they will have changed it, but it won’t matter because the alphabetical designation only has dating significance anyway. I was caught in June, the sixth month. The coding that year had actually originated from A, for January. So June – the sixth month – was the sixth letter F. The important indicators follow that on the initial grouping of transmission letters. MD is for Wilson himself. M for main; D for Director – main Director. Various division directors have the prefix, designating the station. Here for instance, the division is designated S, for Soviet. So there would be a letter, for the month, then S, then D, directing it to the director of the Soviet division. I could actually set out an example, if you want me to.’
Berenkov shook his head, not needing any further explanation. To show Sampson he understood completely he said, ‘So if from Moscow in February of the year you were detected there was sent a message prefixed B – for the second month of the year – and then M, for main, and D, for Director, Wilson himself would have been the recipient.’
‘Yes,’ said Sampson. ‘But not any longer. They’ll have changed everything, because of my coming across. It’s obvious I would tell you.’
There had been ten messages before Sampson had been detected, all addressed personally to the main Director: from the changes after Sampson’s detection it would be easy for the cryptologists to cross-reference and find the new British designation code. Not that Berenkov considered it necessary. ‘Tell me about Wilson,’ he said.
Sampson hesitated, composing the reply. ‘Aloof man, not often seen in the various divisions. Bad leg, from some accident or other. Former full time army officer, but you’ll know that from the listing in Who’s Who or Burke’s Peerage. Fills the bloody place with roses. Grows them. Widower. Absolute professional, admired by a lot of the old timers…’ The man smiled up. ‘Actually heard a suggestion that when he discovered what I’d done he didn’t want the thing settled by triaclass="underline" preferred a more direct and unpublic removal.’
‘What about involvement?’ pressed Berenkov, wanting to achieve his point. ‘If Wilson considered something sufficiently important, would he become personally involved: run control himself?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Sampson at once. ‘Ex regular officer, like I said. Baxter – that was my divisional chief – was always moaning that he was poking his nose in, at executive level.’
Berenkov sat for several moments, uncertain. Settled as soon as possible, Kalenin had ordered: at least he was more personally satisfied with Sampson than he had been when the meeting began. The Russian reached sideways, into the briefcase beside him and unseen behind the bulk of the desk. It didn’t matter which communication it was but he glanced at it anyway, completely accustomed now to the code and able to read it as if it were ordinary Cyrillic script: it was a message about additional silo construction at Baikonur, for the protective version of the SS-20 missile, which had the highest security classification and of which they had been sure that nothing could leak out to the West. He passed it across to Sampson, like he had the paper earlier, and said, ‘What does that say?’
Sampson frowned down, the effort at concentration – and the need to succeed – obvious. ‘C,’ he said at once. ‘So it was transmitted in March, before my detection. MD, so Wilson was the recipient…’ The man’s voice trailed. ‘I don’t understand what follows: it’s a code with which I’m not familiar. Neither the actual message code. It looks like random computer choice, to me. God knows how you’d break that.’
It hadn’t been God, remembered Berenkov: it had been a team of twenty mathematicians working around the clock, at their own computers. Taken four and a half months. And was still incomplete. He said, ‘What do you know about Baikonur?’
Sampson shrugged. ‘Soviet space exploration centre, like Houston and Canaveral, in America. Why?’
‘You didn’t see any transmission, in the March – three months before your detection – concerning Baikonur?’
The Englishman looked back to the meaningless collection of letters and figures, then back up at Berenkov. ‘You know everything I saw in March,’ he said slowly. ‘I transmitted it. In March I wasn’t suspected.’
‘Nothing about Baikonur passed through the Soviet division?’ persisted Berenkov.
‘I was right about the spy!’ said Sampson, in belated, excited awareness. ‘The one I warned you about. But you haven’t caught him!’
Berenkov supposed it was hardly the elucidation of the decade, after the way he’d conducted the meeting. Still sharp enough, though. He said, ‘A spy operating for some of the period when you were still clear, for us.’
‘I told you,’ said Sampson, impatiently. In reflection he said, ‘I knew Wilson and Harkness were up to something. I just knew it.’
‘They ran it themselves?’ queried Berenkov.
‘Definitely,’ assured Sampson. ‘I’d have known, otherwise.’ He fluttered between them the piece of paper bearing the code he could not comprehend. ‘Baikonur?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘So you’ve broken the code?’
‘Part,’ agreed Berenkov. Deciding the man deserved the acknowledgement he added, ‘And it was computer choice, although not quite random. We don’t understand the clearance line.’
‘I’ll be able to help,’ said Sampson confidently. ‘If you make the transcripts available to me, I’ll be able to decide the echelon at which they’re being considered: maybe even determine the sender, from here in Moscow.’
Berenkov realised Kalenin had been right, in forcing the pace. And that he had been wrong, in arguing caution. He wondered if that would be Kalenin’s feeling when he considered the films and the transcripts of the encounter. To Sampson he said, ‘That’s what we want: we want your help in finding the sender.’
‘Conditions,’ insisted Sampson, with continuing confidence.
‘Conditions?’ queried Berenkov, surprised.
‘You know I’m genuine: you’ve never had any reason to doubt me. And if you doubted me now, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’ll do everything I can to help, over these messages. But in return I want to be split up from that dreadful man Charlie Muffin. I want a respectable apartment. And to be treated properly, as a colleague. Not like some doubtful suspect.’
He’d talked to Kalenin about keeping them together, remembered Berenkov. He said, ‘All right.’
‘Immediately?’ pressed Sampson, a man aware of a moment of power and determined to get everything from it.
‘Immediately,’ agreed Berenkov.
‘This is what I came here to do,’ said Sampson. ‘To help.’
‘We haven’t caught him yet,’ said Berenkov.
‘We will,’ said Sampson, confidently.
I hope, thought Berenkov. Having spent time with both men, Berenkov could understand easily how Charlie had offended every one of Sampson’s sensibilities. To someone like Sampson, Charlie would be an anathema.
There is the closest co-operation between the radio intercept installation maintained by the British at Cheltenham – officially called the Government Communication Centre – and America’s National Security Agency at Fort Meade. With slight variations dictated by geographical needs, the world is divided between the two monitoring stations and their impressively equipped sub-stations so effectively that they confidently expect to intercept and have the ability to transcribe – once they know the code – at least ninety per cent of the Soviet and Eastern bloc radio communications.
With ironic coincidence – considering the chance message that Berenkov had chosen to show Sampson – it was the change of code from Baikonur that was first detected, by America who did not understand the significance. Sir Alistair Wilson did, as soon as the information was relayed from the liaison officer at Cheltenham, because the British Director had made a special request to be informed immediately something like that happened. Within twenty-four hours there was confirmation, from changes of code being used along Soviet embassy microwave channels and its sea, air and land forces.