‘Of course. Well, she’s in a spot of trouble.’
‘Really?’
‘In fact, I think we all are.’
Andrew frowned, wishing Craig would get to the point.
‘Yesterday evening, I had a visitor. Chap from London. Security. Actually wore a trenchcoat, would you believe! There’s someone they’ve been keeping an eye on, apparently. Claims to be Swedish, but they’ve discovered he’s about as Scandinavian as Josef Stalin!
‘Anyway, this man lives in London but does business in the West Country. That’s his story, anyway. MI5 heard about him from the local Special Branch who’d been called in by our own security staff here at Devonport. They’d been tipped off by a young sailor, who met this so-called Swede in a pub and wasn’t too happy about the sort of questions he was asking. The sailor’s a marine engineer, on nuclear propulsion. He’s a good lad. Did the right thing in reporting it.
‘The Branch boys started tailing the man. On Wednesday night, something happened which made them call in MI5. They showed the London men a photo, but they had nothing on him.
‘Then, by pure chance, MI5 got a tip-off in London. A couple of foreigners had done a bunk from their home in the middle of Wednesday night. They showed our local boys’ picture to the neighbours and it all fell into place. They instantly reckoned the Swede was an illegal, a Russian undercover agent. Ten out of ten for sharp thinking!
‘The fellow had quite a circle of naval friends in pubs around Plymouth, but it seems he was still building up confidence and hadn’t asked too many clever questions yet.
‘Anyway…, to cut a long story short — that incident on Wednesday. The watchers saw the Swede meet a woman in a kebab house in Plymouth. They seemed to know each other intimately. Lots of holding hands and whispering. But the woman got upset, and left without finishing her meal. One of the watchers followed her home. Can you guess who she was?’
Andrew’s frown deepened.
‘You don’t mean Sara Hitchens?’
‘The very same.’
‘Bloody hell!’
‘Exactly. And the reason MI5 decided to call on me yesterday is that when they raided the house in London they found the couple had left some bits and pieces behind. Including some of the little knick-knacks you get given free when you work for the KGB! The Swede was a Russian spy. Confirmed.’
‘Shit!’
‘Exactly. And we’re in it. Up to our necks!’
‘So, you’re saying Sara was having an affair with a Soviet spy?’
‘Correct. Not the first little dalliance, by all accounts. There’d been gossip about her among some of the wives, so I’m told.’
Andrew felt the back of his neck prickle, uncomfortably aware that the gossip was well-founded.
‘But Sara can’t know anything important,’ he stated briskly. ‘What would a KGB man hope to get from her?’
‘Apart from a good time, you mean?’
‘Yes, well… it doesn’t quite make sense, does it?’
‘I put the same point to MI5. They seem to think the man had only just started spying. Still feeling his way around, as it were, seizing any opportunity that presented itself. And one day, there was Sara. Do you know what she used to do when her old man was off on patrol? She used to go on her own to restaurants and pubs, sit at a table all by herself, and see who she could pick up.’
‘I don’t believe it!’
Poor Sara. Still desperate for affection, Andrew thought.
‘It’s true. She admitted it. Told MI5 that was the way she’d met the Russian. Said it usually worked a treat. Navy town — full of presentable young men, all a bit lonely, looking for female company…’
‘What’s happened? Has she been arrested?’
‘No. Adultery’s not a criminal offence. She denies utterly that she ever said anything to her lover. Anything secret, that is. There’s nothing to charge her with.’
‘But if she didn’t know anything of any importance, and denies telling him anything anyway, why are you so concerned? Why…’
‘Why have I dragged you in here on a Saturday morning? Quite simply because I’m far from sure that Sara told MI5 the truth. Normally, I’d agree, she wouldn’t be much use to a spy, but in the last few days something may have happened to change that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She told the police that Philip had found out about her affairs and they’d had one hell of a fight.’
‘Oh God!’
‘In a situation like that, things get said. Things you wouldn’t normally let on about, but in the heat of the moment…’
‘When did you say you heard about this?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘Phil was at sea by then, so he wouldn’t have known that the boyfriend was a spy?’
‘Presumably not, since Sara claims she was convinced the man was a Swede.’
‘So, you’re worried that in the middle of a domestic row he might have blurted out some state secret that she could later have passed to the Russians? Bit unlikely, isn’t it, sir?’
‘It’s the timing that matters. The date when the row happened. As far as I can work out it must have been just after his ops briefing at Northwood.’
‘But that sort of detail, he’d never bring it up in a screaming match with his wife!’
‘It would only need one detail, Andrew…’
‘Like?’
‘Like exactly where he was going…’
The penny began to drop.
‘They had something special on?’
‘Precisely. Truculent wasn’t just taking part in Exercise Ocean Guardian.’
‘Can you say what it was?’
‘I don’t even know, Andrew. Just that it wasn’t an ordinary mission.’
‘I see… So, you want me to try to assess the likelihood of his having given something away? Because I know them both. Is that it?’
‘I want you to go and see her. She may open up more to you than she did with the police.’
‘Now, wait a minute…’ Tinker cut in. ‘In what capacity? Am I the Navy, or a friend?’
‘Both. A special ambassador chosen because of your personal links with the Kitchens family,’ Craig sounded unfortunately pompous. ‘You’re concerned for her welfare, and so is the Navy. And concerned for Philip, of course.’
The last point was the key consideration for Andrew. He pictured himself at the start of a two-month patrol, and wondered how he would cope if his own marriage had disintegrated days before he’d sailed.
CHAPTER TWO
He went home to change first, not wanting to look conspicuous by arriving at Sara’s house in uniform.
Patsy was so consumed with curiosity he felt compelled to tell her something, but he’d been sworn to secrecy on the security angle.
‘Look’s like Sara’s been a naughty girl. Picking up men in pubs. Philip found out, and did his nut,’ he explained with forced levity.
‘Doesn’t surprise me,’ she answered coolly.
‘No? You knew about it?’ He hoped the anxiety wasn’t noticeable in his voice.
‘The odd rumour, nothing more. Sara doesn’t socialize much with other Navy wives; she’s never come to terms with being wedded to one of you lot. And Philip’s the last sort of man she should’ve married,’ Patsy snorted.
‘That’s true.’
‘He’s an emotional cripple. Probably wears his uniform in bed!’
‘Come on! He’s not that bad.’
How often had he heard himself defending Philip?
‘You watch out for Sara this afternoon. There’s many a time she’d have got you into bed, given half the chance.’
‘Rubbish!’
He thanked God she’d never guessed. It had happened just once — a mistake which had been safely buried until now.