Debut for a Spy (10 page)

It was hard to say the words – I still had doubts, but now I had a reason to hurt them. It was enough to tip the balance.

“I'm in, sir, for whatever it's worth.”

“
Good lad!”

“
And I should tell you that I'm sailing on a Soviet cruise next week through the Mediterranean and the Black Sea to Odessa. It's at the invitation of the Soviet Government, and I'll be giving a concert aboard to entertain the dignitaries.”

“
Good God! We knew about the cruise, of course, but never imagined we'd have someone aboard. I'll brief you on what to watch for, but the main thing is to be cautious. They don't know about you, and I want to keep it that way.”

“
Colonel, who am I working for – MI5 or MI6?”

“
I'd prefer to keep you in the dark, David. You're working for me, and I have a foot in several camps. You're not going to be official – you won't appear in the records. That's for your protection as well as ours.

“We've had some nasty leaks recently, and the last thing I want is for your name to surface when you're somewhere in the middle of a Russian sea. It would be rather a long swim home, especially with an anchor tied to your feet. I'll have some emergency procedures ready before you depart, so we'll meet before you sail. You understood my message about your phone?”

“
Yes, sir – what's going on?”

“
The Soviets – they put bugs in the two phones in your flat, both yours and Miss Fletcher's.”

“
Why?”

“
I've surmised that they wanted to catch anything they could between Katherine Fletcher and her father. What do you think?”

“
It's possible. Cal phoned from Gibraltar on Tuesday night to tell Kate where they were and where they were going.”

“
It could very well have been that call which caused their deaths, but I don't think you should mention that hypothesis to Miss Fletcher. Just be careful when you use the phone. We don't want to alert them that we're on to the bug for fear of exposing you in some way. We'll have to live with it for a bit.”

Hammond looked down at his scribblings. He was lost in thought, which suited me, for I was wrestling with how to approach a more personal matter without making it sound personal. Hammond reached his decision first.

“I have an idea about the P1127 which I must check out this morning. If I haven't reached you by 1700 hours call me on a public phone. And, by the way, use your new codename from now on.”

“
What is it, sir?”

“
It's 'Minstrel'. Rather appropriate, don't you think?”

He seemed pleased with his choice, but I liked it, too.

“Now, is there anything else you want to discuss, David?”

More shit or get off the pot time. I decided to stay seated.

“There is one more thing, sir. What do you know about Marijke Templaars?”

“
Why?”

“
She's been made my liaison with the Soviets for the concert and the cruise.”

That's all he needed to know, I thought. I hoped he couldn't see my heart pounding.

“Not much about her – she hasn't been here long, and she has only recently begun to work for the Soviet government. I'll do a little digging and see what we come up with. We know a fair bit about her father and grandfather, though.”

“
Like what, sir?”

“
For a while no one seemed to know which side of the fence her father was on. Then in 1957 he was expelled from Holland as a Soviet spy. I expect his father-in-law helped save his neck.”

“
Marijke Templaars’ grandfather?”

“
Yes, General Josef Dmitrienko.”

“
Right – she told me that her grandfather was in the army.”

“
Army!” he snorted. “General Josef Dmitrienko is in charge of Directorate ‘K’ of the First Chief Directorate of the KGB! You watch your ass, lad!”

My world began to crumble.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I left the bank in confusion, my head spinning, jostling several people on the street. I had to sit quietly and think. I headed up Lower Regent Street, skirted Piccadilly Circus, and crossed over to the Lyons Corner House.

One of the few places where coffee was bearable, it wasn't crowded at that time of morning, so I was able to find a private corner to sip my caffeine.

Hammond's disclosures of Marijke's father and grandfather had unsettled me. Rationally, I knew that nothing had changed. Perhaps she hadn't told me everything for fear of spooking me, yet I couldn't be sure. Should I carry on as though I knew nothing, or should I confront her and hope she could explain?

Instinctively I decided to leave things as they were, but be mindful of what I said and did until I gave her a chance to tell me of her own free will. Pictures of her flashed through my mind, and they were accompanied by mixed feelings of desire and uncertainty. As Hammond had put it – I'd better watch my ass.

Shaking clear of my own predicament, I shouldered Kate's tragedy, realizing I had to be circumspect about what I knew and yet comfort her as best I could. It was time to call and see how I could help, so I paid my bill and found a telephone.

Dialing the ambassador's residence, I was put through to a social secretary of some sort.

“
I'm sorry, Mr. Baird, they're not here. They're at the embassy sorting through some papers. If you have the time they would like to see you there in the ambassador's office.”

“
Should I call to tell them I'm coming?”

“
Why don't I do that for you? Are you leaving now?”

“
Yes, but it'll be half an hour before I get there.”

I thanked her and rang off, made my way back to the Jag and headed up New Bond Street turning left on Grosvenor.

The new U.S. Embassy occupied the whole west side of Grosvenor Square, having moved from its former location just opposite in 1960. Naturally it was a modern building, with more glass showing than anything else. The most imposing feature was the huge golden eagle over the facade of the building, as some critics had said, “ready to swoop on the poor, defenseless London pigeons.” It seemed appropriate, though, that the embassy had remained on the square which contained the statue of Franklin D. Roosevelt, erected in 1948 by a grateful British public. Ironically enough, the old US Embassy Building on the opposite side of Grosvenor Square is now the Canadian High Commission in London.

I parked without difficulty, then presented myself to a doorman in a navy blue civilian-type uniform with silver buttons.

I was surprised that he was English and not American, as was his colleague above in the main entrance hall. This was a large, oblong area with a fountain in the center. Mainly in marble, there were also marble pillars with a golden trim panel, the whole thing having a rather sterile feel about it.

The second doorman called on an intercom, and in a few moments I was being escorted in an elevator, or 'lift' as the British would say, to the second floor.

The corridor here was lined with portraits of former U.S. Ambassadors to the Court of St. James – the only one I recognized instantly was Joe Kennedy.

At the end of the corridor we entered a door to the ambassador's secretary's office, and here the doorman left me.

“Hello, Mr. Baird, I'm Donna Wong, Mr. Vandenberg's secretary.” She gave me a nice, pleasant smile. “I've heard you sing on the radio, and I really like what you do.”

“
I'm very flattered, Donna. Where are you from?”

“
San Francisco, but I've been away from there for years. Even so, nowhere else seems like home. I guess my heart's still there.”

“
That sounds like a lyric right out of a song.”

“
Maybe someone will write one and you can sing it for me.”

“
It’s already been done and Tony Bennett has just done a great recording of it.”

“
Then I’ll have to get it, but I’d like to hear you sing it.” She smiled graciously. “I'll tell the ambassador you're here.”

She spoke a few words on the intercom, then rose to open the door, giving me a friendly glance.

I entered an office which exuded style and taste. The thick, beige carpet was offset by the most subtle blue wallpaper, the exquisite drapes containing the essence of both colors. They were open, and Grosvenor Square itself was the backdrop for this elegance. The grouping of couches and chairs was in soft, chocolate brown leather, with a matching coffee table of oak with brass fittings.

The walls contained water colors and oils of American scenes, except for one complete panel displaying photographs of famous personalities, each one with a greeting, and some of the ambassador himself with the star, politician, or sports legend.

I couldn't help but contrast this building with the Soviet Embassy. They were so different, yet in some respects they were identical, for they were each a facade to the world at large, making a statement which they wanted others to believe.

Dwight Vandenberg, his wife Barbara, and Kate, were clustered around a coffee table littered with papers. The ambassador and Kate rose, Kate running into my arms, and the ambassador taking a few steps toward me with a tense smile on his face.

“I'm glad you came,” blurted Kate, on the verge of tears.

“
How are you doing, Kate?” I spoke softly, holding her.

“
Just so-so,” she sobbed, burying her face in my jacket.

“
I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up. There were a couple of things I had to do and they wouldn't wait. I knew you were in good hands when Mrs. Vandenberg showed up.”

“
It's okay.” She got some control back. “You know, none of this seems real – all this paper we're sorting through. It's like being in a play where all the characters are imaginary, and then it hits me that it's Mom and Dad and the tears start again. I thought I had cried it out, but I was wrong.”

The ambassador took two more steps and held out his hand. He was tall and slender, dark hair flecked with gray, and had very regular, ruggedly handsome features.

“David, I'm Dwight Vandenberg. We've met before.”

“
Yes, sir, five years ago at Bushey Park in the Officer's Club. I brought my quintet from Kneller Hall to play for a dance, and you came up to request songs I hadn't sung in years. You out-ranked me a little, so I thought I'd better try to do them.”

He had been a lieutenant-general then, and my remark brought a chuckle to both the ambassador and his wife. It was short-lived.

“I'm sorry that we had to get this paper work done at a time like this, but Kate is the sole survivor, and since she is leaving for home this evening we had no choice.”

“
You're going home?” I said to Kate, incredulously.

She nodded.
“I have to be with my grandmother for a while – my father's mother. She's my only living grandparent, and this is a terrible shock for her. There's going to be a memorial service for my parents in the church, and I'd like to be there. I spoke to Gram on the phone this morning, and she needs me with her. Quite honestly, I think I need her, too. All of a sudden we're all that's left of our family.”

Her eyes welled. Barbara Vandenberg spoke from the couch.

“David, Kate's flight leaves at 8:30pm. I know she'd like you to drive her out, but if you can't, we'll send her in an embassy car. Unfortunately, Dwight and I have to attend a reception this evening, so we won't be able to go.”

“
But we'd send someone with her,” said the ambassador. “I wouldn't want her to be alone.”

“
It's no problem for me,” I responded. “I'll take her. Which airline is it?”

“
BOAC, flight 85, to Montreal,” he replied.

Again I was surprised.
“Montreal? I didn't know your grandmother lived in Canada.”

Kate actually gave a little smile.
“She doesn't. She lives in Colebrook, New Hampshire. Montreal is the closest international airport, and it'll save some time.”

“
How will you get to Colebrook from Montreal?”

The ambassador had the answer.
“I've arranged a car from the consulate in Montreal. They'll drive Kate right to her grandmother's door.”

Barbara rose from the couch. She was a very classy lady, and she and Dwight Vandenberg were well matched. I guessed that she would have had a lot to do with the tasteful style in his office.

“Kate, why don't you come with me for a few minutes to get some air and freshen up? I'm sure Dwight has a few things he'd like to discuss with David.”

“
Oh… yes, sure.”

She looked at me quizzically, as though she wondered what the ambassador and I would have to talk about without her being present. I wondered, too.

When the door closed he asked me to sit down.

“
Would you like something to drink, David?”

“
No, sir, I'm fine, thanks.”

“
Let me get right to the point. We've been going through Cal Fletcher's documents with a fine-toothed comb. I needed Kate here partially as her parents' beneficiary, but also to help me with personal papers I couldn't identify.

“
We're trying to find a list of names Cal left which is extremely critical to the U.S. government, and it doesn't seem to be here. It's entirely possible that he coded it in some way and left it in plain sight, and that's why I needed Kate.”

He stopped talking, looked at me expectantly, and I wasn't sure what to say. Normally I would have responded with curiosity, but since I knew exactly what he was looking for, that element was missing. My comment was hesitant and rather lame.

“Can you be more specific about the list, sir?”

“
No, I can't, and it's for security reasons. All I can say is that it would be disastrous for the United States and some of her friends if the list were to be acquired by the wrong parties.” He stared at me for a moment and then continued. “I know you took over the Fletchers' flat about a year ago, and I wondered if you knew of any spot that Cal might have used as a hiding place. He may have felt that he shouldn't keep the list at the embassy.”

“
No, sir, nothing at all, and in case you're wondering, Cal Fletcher never told me anything about this, nor was anything to be delivered in the event of his death. Did you ask Kate?”

“
Yes, of course, but her answer was negative, I'm afraid. You were our only hope.”

“
Have you read the will? Perhaps that would contain a clue.”

“
Nothing that we could see. It seems pretty straightforward. There was a letter to be given to Kate if he were to die, but it was all personal, and nothing seemed out of place. Kate handed it to us to read, and there were no instructions to do anything, or retrieve anything, or send anything. We've run into a blank wall, but we simply must find that list.”

“
Are you sure that it existed, sir? Perhaps he had it committed to memory but never wrote it down.”

“
That wouldn't be like him. Cal knew if anything happened to him the list had to be passed on. He was the only one with the names. I know he didn't trust the system well enough to document it in the normal way, but he would never have left us high and dry in the event of his death or incapacitation. It's around, but he's hidden it well. I only hope we find it first.”

“
Could it have been blown up with him in the plane?” Shit! I slipped! Perhaps he wouldn't notice.

There was a long silence, the ambassador staring at me.

“There's been no statement that mentioned an explosion, only one to say the plane is missing. Why did you say 'blown up'?”

“
Only a presumption, sir.” I was trying not to get flustered. “The latest reports say that there were no survivors and that nothing of the aircraft has been found. That would be consistent with an explosion rather than a crash into the ocean.”

His hesitation was not as pronounced this time.

“You seem particularly well-informed for a layman.” A pause. “Have you said anything about this to Kate?”

“
No, not a word.”

“
Then don't, please. Kate has enough to contend with. I wouldn't want her confused with speculation.”

“There'll be no speculation from me, sir.”

I looked him straight in the eye. His gaze averted first.

“Good. Now, if you should run across something suspicious or strange, or if Kate does, will you contact us? Some of us are not going to rest until that list turns up.”

“
I'll keep my eyes open, sir, but I'm pretty sure it's not in the flat.”

I wasn't going to lie – and the truth is, I didn't know what I'd do if I found it. Something wasn't sitting right.

The ladies returned, and though the Vandenbergs invited us to join them for lunch, Kate felt that she should rest for a while and pack for her trip.