‘That’s the decision I’ve been asking you to make, for weeks.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘I’m not going until Thursday night.’
‘I think Eddie is going to be at the embassy all day. I could telephone.’
‘I’ll wait for your call. And Ann?’
‘Yes?’
‘I want a decision.’
And he knew how to get it, Brinkman decided. He’d held back, until now, but he couldn’t any longer. He’d spell out to her how long she’d have to stay in Moscow – exaggerate if he had to – and tell her if she doubted him directly to challenge Blair to try to get a definite time. Brinkman was sure that would sway it. He wished he hadn’t had to use it, as the final pressure; that she’d found it easier to choose between them. But she hadn’t; so there it was.
He intended to leave Moscow with everything he wanted. Everything.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The senior of the two men whom Langley sent was a supervisor -the same grade as Blair – named Art Blakey. The younger man was Harry King who said please call him Hank: everybody did. There was an understandable embarrassment between them, more for the newcomers than for Blair. Blakey said they were sons of bitches at Langley, stretching the metaphor by saying all they did was piss up each other’s legs and that he was sorry they’d been sent and he knew damned well Blair didn’t need any help on anything. Blair said it didn’t matter, but thanks. He suggested they carry out a full reconnaissance of Krasnaya and they both agreed at once, deferring to him and making it quite clear they expected him to act as the leader of the group. It was obvious, of course, that they couldn’t go together. Blair identified Krasnaya on a map and explained the subway system and how the buses worked and what the route numbers were and isolated the hotels and the stores – GUM naturally first – which he thought best to clear their trail.
They let King go ahead. It was his first foreign assignment and the better experienced men realised he might need more time to find his way around an unfamiliar city. Paradoxically it was King who managed to evade the surveillance, cleverly mingling with a group of American tourists leaving the Druzhba Hotel on Vernadskovo Prospekt and managing to reach Red Square on their coach before the Intourist guide discovered him. King disembarked pleading confusion and spent more time losing himself among other visitors around Lenin’s tomb before setting out for the destination where they were to rendezvous.
The KGB observation team located Art Blakey as he left the embassy and by the time Sokol gained the communication centre the news had already been received of Blair’s departure. Sokol hunched over the now familiar table, unnecessarily reciting the coordinates of the two men’s movements around the capital as they were radioed in, marking fresh route marks on his map. Both were making obvious attempts at evasion. So could this be it, whatever it was? Sokol checked his duty roster, reminding himself that he had forty men assigned to the surveillance, deciding at once to increase the cover. He snapped out a series of orders to the men grouped around in the control room, ordering mobilisation of the street reserves and demanding access to every vehicle and operator in the basement motor-pool. As he issued the instructions Sokol realised that the information of such an assembly would naturally be communicated to the chairman four floors above so having made his dispositions he called Panov on the internal telephone. The KGB chairman listened without any interruption until Sokol finished and then said, ‘I think you’re right to take the precaution.’
It was obviously unthinkable that the chairman of the KGB should descend to the control room but he had the technicians activate the switching apparatus that enabled him to listen simultaneously to the information that was being relayed in and to Sokol’s instructions, on the outward channel.
It meant, Sokol realised, that he was under as much observation as the Americans he was following. It wouldn’t be necessary for Panov to turn on the recording machinery in his office. All traffic into the communication centre was automatically taped.
Sokol bent over his maps in absolute concentration, becoming more and more convinced of the destination as he traced the route Blair and Blakey were independently taking. It had to be Krasnaya. He hesitated momentarily, unsure whether to consult Panov and then deciding against it, aware it would indicate his uncertainty. Through the transmitters linked to Panov’s monitoring apparatus, Sokol called up half of the waiting reserves of street and mobile personnel and despatched them to the park, in advance of the Americans’ arrival. Sokol would have liked the time to brief them in one of the lecture rooms but decided speed was more important. So he isolated himself briefly from the constantly incoming surveillance information and withdrew to another radio installation, although still one to which the listening chairman above had simultaneous access. Over a separate wavelength he specifically instructed every car, identifying by name the men in each and insisting upon a response so that everyone understood what he was demanding.
Photographs had been taken of Blakey and King on their arrival at the airport and copies issued to every surveillance vehicle. It was from the photograph in the first car to arrive at Krasnaya that the occupants identified the undetected younger American already there, attempting to appear inconspicuous by the archer statue and when the information was relayed Sokol felt a warmth of satisfaction, at being right. The feeling grew with the news from the followers that both Blair and Blakey were approaching the park, as well. By the time the two older Americans entered Krasnaya it was completely under the control of- and sealed by -the KGB. All the attendants and staff- even staff at the solitary refreshment stall – were intelligence personnel and the apparently innocent pedestrians and users were KGB officers. There were radio-controlled pursuit cars in all of the five main approach routes, with extra men concealed in closed vans.
Blair didn’t need to study any further the lay-out of the intended meeting place, so by arrangement he went directly to the bench where he’d sat before with Orlov, leaving Blakey and King to orientate themselves.
At Sokol’s insistence there was a running commentary now being sent into the control room from four separate observers concealed within the park, operating mobile apparatus. There was no other sound whatsoever in the room; Sokol and the technicians all stared at the receivers through which the voices were coming, as if they expected to see as well as hear.
In the park Blair saw Art Blakey approaching and rose, before the American reached him.
‘What do you think?’ he said.
‘Good a place as any,’ judged Blakey.
The remark was picked up by a directional microphone aimed from about twenty-five yards away, by an operator hidden in dense shrubbery and Sokol couldn’t suppress the smile of triumph. He was glad Panov was listening to everything.
King came into the area, smiling.
‘OK?’ said Blair.
‘Tell you on Friday,’ said the younger man.
The second remark came clearly into the radio room and Sokol turned away from the technicians, not wanting the gossip to spread of his reaction to the absolute confirmation of everything.
‘Anything more you want to see?’ Blair asked both men.
Blakey shook his head. King said, ‘Can’t think of anything. This looks like an ordinary park.’
‘What else should it look like?’ asked Blair, curiously.
King shrugged, embarrassed at disclosing an idle thought. ‘Just felt it might somehow be different, really. You know what I thought, on my way here?’
‘What?’
‘That the people physically seem different.’
‘Different how?’ asked Blakey, leading the way out of Krasnaya.