A dozen horrific thoughts flashed through his mind as he was driven away at speed through the morning traffic with sirens screaming.
After about 30 minutes, he could see that he was arriving at a well-guarded military establishment and was surprised to see, soon afterwards, that it was an airfield. The vehicle stopped by a Russian air force transport plane. He was hustled on board to a bleak seating area with just four uncomfortable canvas seats and found himself seated between two stern-looking Russians in civilian clothes, who remained incommunicative, apart from grunting a few words to each other from time to time.
At around midday, two planes landed within ten minutes of each other at a Finnish air force base not far from Helsinki. Waiting there in a small terminal building were senior intelligence chiefs from the local embassies of Russia and Great Britain, who had been through this process a few times before. Aldanov and Alexander were each brought into the building by their escorts, together with their belongings – the British man with his two suitcases and a briefcase, the Russian with just a plastic bag containing the few items he had with him in his prison cell in London. They stood, one at each end of the room, as the officials went through the procedures of checking the identities of the two men. Little was said until they were each told to walk forward. As they passed each other, in the middle of the room, they exchanged glances and half-smiles which spoke volumes – “free at last.”
Each was greeted by a handshake from his own Government representative, and with few words being spoken, they were each escorted to the aircraft which would take them home. They realised that they had been involved in a very efficient, if rather scary, diplomatic swap, and as they relaxed in their aircraft seats ready for take-off, they both wanted to cheer and say thank you – but in both cases, there were only the military escorts plus the respective aircrews on board, going busily about their duties.
For each of them, their flights back – one to Northolt and the other to Moscow with no more than a cup of aircrew coffee – were an opportunity to at least thank their lucky stars and prepare for the welcome that would await them when they landed.
Later the same day, the Foreign Office issued its press release which astonished the editors who received it in London and across the country:
“In a co-operative arrangement with the Russian Government, it has proved possible to carry out an exchange today of a Russian agent who was arrested in Portsmouth two months ago with a British diplomat who has been under house arrest in Moscow for some three months.
The exchange took place at an airfield in Finland, and we are grateful to the Finnish Government for their assistance in enabling this operation to take place.
Those involved were Charles Alexander, a member of the diplomatic service, who had been serving at the British Embassy in Moscow until he was arrested on false spying charges, and Nikolai Aldanov, the Russian agent who was arrested when he arrived in Portsmouth on board the RS Admiral Essen. We are pleased to welcome Mr. Alexander back home after his ordeal, and he will resume his duties at the Foreign Office in due course.”
The news editors of London’s national press and the various broadcasting organisations quickly recognised this as the final stage of the long-running story about the Russian lieutenant and his girlfriend – and instructions went out again to “find the girl.”
27.
BACK HOME
After her final meeting with MI5 on Monday morning, Marina was met again by Patricia, and over a coffee in the canteen, Patricia said that Tom had asked her to pass on a message that he had been serious when he had mentioned a possible future for her with the intelligence service if she was still interested. She added, “He says we should let the dust settle for a month or two, and then we will be in touch. Meanwhile, if you have the time, he said have a few more Russian lessons.”
They then went together to the office of an officer who was introduced as Dennis Winters, the information officer at MI5, who outlined the way in which Marina should deal with any press inquiries in the coming days and weeks. “Just stick to the facts that you got caught up in all this because you were looking on line for friends and that you had no idea that your contact was anything other than a naval officer,” he explained. “You can insist there was no thought of secret information passing between the two of you and that you were disappointed by the way it worked out. And now you are returning to your job with the Royal Navy. Just stick to that, and I will leave it to you how much personal information you want to share.”
Marina said she understood and asked a few questions about how much information had already appeared in the press? Mr. Winters summarised the statements that had been issued and added that there had also been quite a lot of speculation. He also said she would get quite a lot of calls asking for interviews and might also be offered a payment for her exclusive story. It would be entirely up to her to decide how to respond, but to remember that her role in the whole affair was very “low level” as far as the department was concerned. “The less you say, the easier it will be,” he said finally.
As they left, Patricia remembered to give Marina the keys to her flat in Portsmouth and said they had not been needed. Then, with a friendly hug, she said goodbye and wished her well.
She felt cheerful again as she walked back to the “safe” flat and packed her belongings. Then she made a quick call to her father in Putney to say she was on her way to visit them. Because of her luggage, she took a taxi, and on the way, she began thinking about the exciting new future career that had been suggested and wondered where she could find Russian lessons.
She was there in time for lunch, and to her parents’ great surprise, she explained what had happened that morning and that, as a consequence, she was no longer required as a witness in a big trial of a Russian spy. Therefore, she was on her way back to Portsmouth to resume her normal life – after a far from normal few weeks.
Victor and Shona Peters were reassured by the conversation because their lives had also been disrupted for weeks with visits from the police, the security services and the man from the Russian Embassy. After a relaxed lunch, Marina kissed her mother goodbye, and Victor drove Marina to Clapham Junction to catch a train to Portsmouth.
On the way, she tried to rehearse how she would answer calls from the press. She also made a list of all the people she now needed to contact once she had settled back into her Southsea flat: there was the helpful solicitor, Jeremy Scott, and his boss David Barclay-Smith; there was Betty, of course, and her friend Susie Mann – and Susie’s parents, Admiral and Mrs. Mann; then there was her boss at the Navy Communications Office in the Dockyard to discover when to go back to work at last. So what else? There was shopping to do to restock her food store after so long away, and goodness knows what the state of her refrigerator contents might be? It was going to be back to the basics of her life again, a period of readjustment after being looked after at the MI5 flat in London and the CIA facility in Florida, not to mention the unforgettable night at the Ritz Carlton and the comfort of business class flights with BA.
At Portsmouth and Southsea station, she soon found a taxi to take her back to the familiar block of flats near the seafront. Fortunately, the press had given up watching for her return, and the final press release from the Foreign Office was about to be distributed that same evening. She found the key which opened the door to the lobby and the lift took her to the second floor and her own front door. The empty flat seemed welcoming after so long away, and she was just starting to unpack her luggage when the doorbell rang. It was, as she expected, her friendly neighbour.