Temerity felt cold. Bloody hell. Move fast. —Can you get more cigarettes? I mean, are there shortages?
— We don’t discuss shortages with foreigners. This is a land of plenty.
Temerity could not tell if he might be joking. —Be here this time tomorrow evening. If you want to be left alone, keep your cigarettes hidden in your pocket. If you want to come teach, put the pack on the table. I can’t be here, but someone else will notice.
Kostya refused to look at her. Then, seeking clarity, he shut his eyes. —Nadia, I’m not sure I’d be a very good teacher.
He got no answer.
When he opened his eyes, he saw her empty chair.
He got to his feet, almost knocking over the table. Dozens and dozens of happy people penned him in. He wanted to climb on his chair for a better view, but that would draw too much attention. Instead he stood on his toes, scanning the crowd for a woman in a head scarf.
Several such women moved in all directions.
He turned back to the table, then brushed his palm over the seat of the chair opposite his.
Warm.
Oh, I exist.
Voices chattered; dusk thickened; nightingales sang.
A deputy head of SIS’s Moscow Station stared at the middle-aged nuisance of a woman before him. —You really shouldn’t be here, Miss West, except for the gravest of emergencies. What if you were followed?
— So you would prefer to explain to London how you declined to lift a defector who’s former NKVD and currently attached to the KGB? No use at all, is he?
— How the bloody hell do you even know him? We had no briefing.
— Signal for Neville Freeman. He knows this file.
— Freeman? He’s about to retire.
Temerity suppressed a sigh. —Well, he’s not dead yet, is he? Please signal London.
He stood up. —On your say-so?
— On my recommendation. Request, if you like.
— Miss West, this is most irregular. We need to plan these things. It can take months. And we can’t embarrass the Soviets with a lift during the festival. The damage to Khrushchev’s credibility—
— John, isn’t it? I expect your mother called you Johnny.
— What? Don’t change the subject.
Adjusting her glasses, Temerity released her memsahib voice. —Now listen to me, Johnny. Back in ’37—
— You were here in ’37? Why?
— Need-to-know, that, and you don’t. Back in ’37, he helped me. He protected me. He risked everything to do so.
John blinked a few times. —You feel you owe him?
— How many times must I say it? He’s not only tangled up with the secret police, but he’s also a former political prisoner. He’s only in Moscow by accident, and any moment now he’ll be sent back to Voronezh. Surely he’s got something to offer us.
Nodding, John considered that. —How long was he in the camps?
— Eighteen years.
John winced. —So much of his knowledge of the secret police is out of date.
— His knowledge of the camps is fresh though, isn’t it? And how much can KGB have changed? God’s sake, Johnny. Is this really your decision to make?
— Well, it’s not yours.
Temerity decided to remove her dark glasses. What had Neville Freeman said after they’d interrogated an Abwehr agent together? You do look fearsome. It’s all about the theatre, you know. Squeeze them dry with theatre. She stared directly at John, letting him take in the blinded eye and the scars. —This Russian saved my bloody life one night. He was willing to leave with me then, and I think he’s willing to leave now, except he’s too frightened to say so. And every defector we can take evens the score, just a little.
Neither of them had to mention the shame of the defections to USSR of British SIS agents Burgess and Maclean, and the ongoing fear of a yet undiscovered mole.
John could not hold Temerity’s gaze, and his speech collapsed into a mumble. —If this blows up in our faces, I’ll make sure it’s you who gets the blame.
— Coward.
He sighed. —No, I understand pragmatics. Welcoming an enemy into the fold? Miss West, you have no idea what you’ve just opened yourself up to.
She put her glasses back on. —Then shouldn’t you signal London and get some guidance, like I asked?
Heathrow Airport
Thursday 8 August
Only when they emerged from customs did Temerity address her two students about their recall and rapid return to London. —I’m sorry. This should not have affected you. You’ll need to be debriefed. For God’s sake, tell them everything you might know. Don’t give them any reason to think you’re hiding something. Don’t even think about trying to protect me, not in any way. Clear?
Her pale and jet-lagged students only stared at her.
Then she spotted three men waiting in a row, each standing about a yard from the other. The men wore suits and doffed their hats when they saw the women. One of them was Neville Freeman.
Temerity gave a wan smile. —Right. One for each of us. Off you go.
Each man escorted each woman into a car with a waiting driver. Neville joined Temerity in the back seat of hers.
Nausea and fatigue kept her in a sickly doze as they drove to what looked like a military base. Armed men wearing battle fatigues guarded a gate and opened it only after conferring with someone else via walkie-talkie.
Temerity sighed. —Freeman, the students know nothing. Let them go.
Eyes on the road ahead, Neville kept quiet.
Temerity glanced over her shoulder at the closing gate, and she said nothing else until inside a long and low building that might once have served as barracks. Inside a dim room, grey paint peeling from the walls, she followed Neville’s gestures and sat before a desk. He sat opposite.
— Miss West—
— Freeman, the students—
— Why have you proposed this defection?
— Freeman, please. Let them go.
— Out of my hands. Abundance of caution, and all that, and we can’t just swan about Moscow cherry-picking Soviet citizens to lift. We help Soviets who have first helped us with useful intelligence. What makes him so special? I know he tried to helped you once, but is that it?
Is that not enough? —Might I have a cigarette? I seem to have run out.
— No. I’ve asked for a few hours alone with you before I report to my superiors, and if I can’t convince them, then they will come to question you. They may do so regardless. You’ve not just tainted yourself and your students with suspicion in this enterprise but me as well, and you’re still young enough to send to prison. Now please, I need to know anything and everything that could compromise you here.
— I am not compromised!
— Then why have you not told me everything?
For a long moment, she kept silent. The ticking of her wristwatch seemed to get louder, louder.
Neville did not move.
She took off her glasses so she might see better in the dim light and gently placed them on the desk. —Right. He had gonorrhea and a bad toe.
1958
THE BEZPRIZORNIK
Woking, England
Monday 7 October
Shipr cologne. Temerity often smelled it in her dreams, the resinous and sharp scent worn by Kostya in 1937. Except what those two young men leaning against a lamppost wore as cologne — carried on the mist, it seemed — was unlikely to be Russian. The young men gave no sign they noticed her as she passed. Then the heels of their boots clacked against the street as they detached themselves from the lamppost and hurried to catch up with her, one on either side. She saw now they might be sixteen or seventeen, boys, really, yet no less a threat. One of them asked for a cigarette as the other tried to snatch her newspaper and handbag.