Shaw turned, caught an aroma of hot coffee and saw Latymer’s Clarice Larkin coming in, prim and precise as ever. The secretary put the tray down in front of Latymer who sniffed appreciatively and said, “Thank you, Clarice. You’ve been quick.”
“I’d already warned the kitchen staff, Mr Latymer. I thought you’d want something.”
“You’re a thought-reader.” Latymer reached for a sandwich.
She almost blushed with pleasure; Shaw looked at her with sympathy and understanding. She was a tough bird, but she’d have done anything in the world for her unresponsive chief. As she went out of the door she said, “I’m glad you like them, Mr Latymer.” She hesitated for a moment and then disappeared.
“Admirable woman, quite admirable,” Latymer said absently between mouthfuls, “but sexless.” He pushed the tray forward. “Get started on this lot while I talk. There’s a lot to get through.”
Shaw nodded and took a sandwich, poured himself and Latymer some coffee.
“I needn’t point out that you haven’t much time available, or that Russia’s a big country to cover.” Latymer took a gulp at his cup. “A B.O.A.C. flight leaves London Airport for Vienna at 2100 hours tonight. You’ll be on it. Carberry will hand you your ticket later.”
“Why Vienna, sir?”
“Because there’s always the chance that our man there may have picked up something by the time you get there. You know what Vienna’s like. Carberry will have been in touch with him already — he’s had a busy time since I rang him last night, has Carberry. But the real point is that we hope our man’ll be able to ease your passage into Russia by — er — various unorthodox routes, and believe me, that’s far less tricky than if we tried to get you in direct by sea along the Baltic coast. So you’ll check in at the Hotel Metro-pole and our man’ll contact you there.”
“Right, sir. Do I gather I break through the Curtain, then?”
Latymer said crisply, “I’m afraid so, yes. The matter’s far too urgent to allow any delay now, and you know how long the Soviet takes to issue visas. That precludes sending you out as a harmless soap-powder flogger or what-have-you. Nevertheless, you’ll be provided with a passport, fully visaed by Carberry’s forgery section and with the proper frontier-stamps in it as if you’d entered Russia via Czechoslovakia,
in the Uzhgorod region. Uzhgorod’s an open town, and though it’s in a closed area and you wouldn’t be allowed to circulate in the actual area around the city, you’d be able to travel direct from Uzhgorod to anywhere in the open area beyond — which is what you will have done if you’re asked. Remember that even the Russians themselves can’t all travel about freely inside the closed areas. You can use that passport if you’re questioned inside Russia, which you will be — you do not of course use it to cross in, I need hardly say, and where you do actually make the crossing doesn’t matter in the least. Now, your passport will be a foolproof job and it’ll satisfy anyone checking it — except possibly two groups of people. One, the frontier-guards, the checkpoint personnel on whom you’ll have gathered I’m not prepared to risk either it or you — you’ll have a much better chance through the back door. Two, the MVD themselves inside Russia. All I can say is, keep well to leeward of those bastards. They’re hot stuff and they’ll sniff out faked documents at half a mile if they actually rope you in for questioning.”
“What about snap checks, sir?”
“Liable to happen almost anywhere — roads, trains… but I’m hoping you’ll skip through them. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, however. If the MVD should decide to grill you, you’ve had it, Shaw. So — watch your step twenty-four hours a day.”
Shaw grinned. “I will, sir, don’t worry!”
“Now — cover. You’re Peter Martin Alison, representing WIOCA — which in case you don’t know it is the Workers’ International Organization for Cultural Advancement. It’s akin to the British Council — you know the sort of thing. As their name implies, they’re international in structure and they’ve got agents in pretty well every country in the world, and a really big set-up in Russia. That background gives you excellent scope for moving about the Soviet Union, especially as the Russians have a very high regard for the organization — they really are dead keen on it and pay it tremendous respect, everyone does, from highest to lowest. You need to be a deep pink politically, of course, but you don’t need to be particularly cultured — and I’m not being rude. For all I know, you’re bursting with erudition. However, your particular line will be literature and what I’m saying is, the average well-read man, which you are, can get by very adequately. Well now — you’ll contact the WIOCA office in Moscow. They, along with the Embassy, will have been warned about you — that’s to say, a man called Chaffinch, who’s the British bigwig in WIOCA out there, will know about you, but as far as the rest of the staff are concerned you’re the genuine egghead, Peter Alison, out from home to get to know the boys. If you really don’t know much about our great literary heritage and the current best-sellers, remember the broad rule-of-thumb: best-sellers are mainly in the brackets sex, sodomy and sadism. Right?”
“Yes, sir. What about reporting back?”
“You’ll have one of Carberry’s latest gadgets. A neat little portable transceiver which looks like, and in fact is, a battery shaver, complete with aerial in the flex. It has a very special opening mechanism and no one but you will be able to get inside it, short of smashing it. Small, yes, but it’s got enough range to reach Moscow from almost anywhere inside Russia — Carberry will give you all the details later. It will be arranged, by the way, whatever the Foreign Office has to say about it, that the Embassy will retransmit anything you send and pass it directly to me immediately. If we want to call you, we’ll transmit at 2300 hours Moscow time. You’ll keep a listening watch at that time whenever you possibly can. Once you’ve found out what the threat is, tell us at once of course, but meanwhile go ahead and sabotage it if you can. You see, taking into account that it’s all to look like an accident, it’s pretty obvious that some kind of new weapon is involved in this thing rather than a military operation as such — and secret weapons are susceptible to sabotage.”
Latymer paused. “Now, Shaw. Both you and I realize quite well what’s involved in sabotage. It’s highly dangerous to put it mildly, especially where nuclear devices are involved. I won’t say any more about that, but believe me, I regret having to send you on this job. However, I’ll be relying on you to give me the picture as fully as possible via the Embassy — and when you’ve done that I’ll guarantee to raise heaven and earth to help you. There may come a point when the only course for survival will be to send in the V Force Vulcans with their Skybolt missiles — I don’t know, and it’ll be up to you to guide me on that. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Right. Now, seeing we’ve got a fleet going in later, I’ll pave the way with the Admiral just in case you want to contact him for anything, but as far as getting yourself out of Russia when the time comes is concerned, I wouldn’t advise actually trying to sneak aboard his ships in Leningrad — or offshore either. They’re hot, along that coast.” Latymer glanced at his watch. “Well, Shaw, I’ve another appointment with the Chiefs of Staff in ten minutes, so I’ll have to throw you out. Report back here to Carberry at four o’clock and he’ll fill in details about background and so on inside the Curtain, and also hand you that passport — and brief you about our imaginary Peter Alison’s home life, and such WIOCA activities as you might need to know about.” He got up and came round the desk, and placed a hand heavily on Shaw’s shoulder. His face was stiff and concerned as he said gruffly, “Good luck, my boy — and look after yourself. I don’t want to lose you and I’ll expect you back in this room with a whole skin as soon as you’ve unearthed this thing. And just remember, won’t you, that the smallest thing you can pass back to me may be vital for God knows how many millions of us…”