When he was called up for the meeting he had requested with his “big boss”, he said, “I think I may have found something interesting.” He went on to describe how his dating efforts had eventually produced a response from a British woman working for the Royal Navy in Portsmouth. “And what is more, she had Russian grandparents,” he added.
Asked what he had in mind, he explained, “I would like to have permission to open up a personal correspondence with this woman and try to discover by careful stages how useful she could be as a source. I would prefer not to involve our London office at this time, if you agree?”
The director gave him the go-ahead but asked to be kept closely informed.
Sadly, after just two years of their new life in Moscow, Aldanov’s wife had died in childbirth, and he was given special leave to deal with his family matters. But he was soon anxious to get back to his duties, where he threw himself into his work and stayed late into the evenings to fill his time, refusing social invitations and even drinks with his colleagues. In particular, he believed that his unconventional “dating” idea would help to enhance his reputation in the department.
In between all his other investigative tasks, agent Aldanov began to develop the relationship with his British “date”, and he was surprised by her willingness to respond so readily to his questions about her Russian background and her job. He took things deliberately slowly, and among all their friendly and sometimes more romantic exchanges, he was able to discover that she was single, about 30, with special interests in travel and an ambition to visit Russia. He was able to report to his director that she worked in the communications office of the British Navy’s Portsmouth headquarters and had described how she was at the hub of information regarding fleet movements and the readiness of the ships of the fleet.
After a month or so of these on-line exchanges, he had worked out a plan to take his idea to the next stage. He asked for another meeting with his director and set out an operational proposal. “I think my contact in Britain is a real long-term prospect for us, if we handle it the right way,” he said. “My suggestion is that we find the next ship which could realistically have a reason to call into a British port. I could then join the ship’s company on some pretence and eventually arrange an opportunity to meet up with the woman to check her out face to face, as it were. I really think she is ready to meet me.”
“I’ll take further advice on this idea,” came the cautious response. “Just keep the contact warm for the time being, and I will see what is in the future plans for the Navy that might work.”
Nikolai Aldanov kept a low profile in the following days, but he became concerned when he received an inquiry from a senior intelligence officer based in the London embassy, asking for more information about his contact. He realised that his idea had leaked as a result of the further discussions between departments; because it involved the UK, someone had copied a memorandum about his plan to the London station of GRU. He stalled and decided not to reply to the London contact, insisting to his own director that if they decided to follow up in any way, the involvement by the agents there could put at risk the relationship he had been so carefully nurturing.
“If we are to get anywhere, I have to pursue this as a romantic attachment – or she will smell a rat,” he said. “This woman could be pure gold if we play our cards right. Can you please call London off until I need their support?” He got a nod of agreement.
A couple of weeks passed before he was summoned to another meeting upstairs, where he found his director with a very senior naval commander in uniform, who began by asking, “Does your uniform still fit, or have you put on weight in this office job?”
He then went on to explain that an opportunity had occurred to test the plan and he surprised Aldanov by saying that it had been decided that he would join a frigate at Sevastapol in two days’ time. This was the Admiral Essen, one of three ships due to sail in the next week for the Mediterranean on exercises. He would be appointed to the position of third Lieutenant in training, and neither the ship’s captain or anyone else would be told the reason for his move from the reserve back into full operational duties. And he should certainly not reveal what his job had been in recent years; if he needed to say anything, he should say he had wanted a change following the loss of his wife.
Nikolai tried to suppress his delight and excitement at the prospect of not only returning to serve at sea, which he loved, but also the opportunity to follow up his own plan as part of his new career with the intelligence service. He had also come to rather like Marina! He returned to his office and began the task of clearing his desk. He handed over all his files to his surprised supervisor with the minimum of explanation about “a new job” and went home to pack. He also sent a brief e-mail message to Marina to say he was on his way. Next morning, he took the train from Moscow to Sevastapol.
In the naval dockyard area, he soon found the Admiral Essen, and once on board, he soon felt “back at home”. He asked the sailor on gangway duty to take him to meet the First Officer, who gave him a warm welcome. They had been informed the previous day that a reserve officer would be joining them and he was shown to his designated cabin – small but comfortably equipped. There he met the steward who looked after the needs of the three Lieutenants on board – a luxury he had almost forgotten as the steward carefully unpacked and stowed his belongings. Close by were the slightly larger cabins of the Captain and First Officer and also two more cabins for the Electronics and Weapons Officer and the Chief Engineer. Between them, these officers led a crew of nearly 200, including some very experienced technical experts responsible for the latest armament and communications systems and for maintaining the ship’s helicopter. During his first hours on board, he found opportunities to introduce himself to his fellow officers and was briefed on his sea-going duties by the Captain. The others had all served on this new frigate since it had been commissioned for service nearly a year earlier, but they were welcoming to the “new boy”, and by the end of day one, he felt “ready to go” after nearly four years ashore in his new but secret career.
When they all gathered in the officers’ dining room that evening, the others were understandably curious about his “desk job at the Defence Ministry”, as he described it to them. But they seemed ready to accept his explanation that following the death of his wife, he had been able to pull a few strings and get back to active service again. His last sea-going job had been on a warship of an earlier generation, so he was particularly anxious to learn about all the more recent and sophisticated technical and electronic equipment he would find in his new ship, one of the latest class of frigates to join the Russian fleet.
Just three days later, the Admiral Essen sailed from Sebastapol into the Black Sea, together with the other two sister ships, and in the control centre behind the bridge, Nikolai studied the charts and their mission instructions, with guidance from one of his more experienced colleagues. He was ready to take over his first four-hour duty watch on the bridge that night.
From his more recent experience in Moscow, he knew that every movement of the ship and every message transmitted between the radio cabin and the naval base was being monitored – not only by his former colleagues in GRU but no doubt also by foreign agencies in Europe and the USA. There was no way that he could make contact with Marina now.