Debut for a Spy (33 page)

Shit! I stood still, ready to leap over if anyone appeared. Nothing happened. I didn't know if this was good or bad, for mixed reasons. I felt the deck. A steel mesh over sheets of steel. Aha! I thought, the plot thickens. Over to the tarp. At this end there was a tie-down, lashed to a ring on the deck. I looked at the knot with the aid of my penlight. A bowline. Thank you, 8th Moncton Troop, Boy Scouts of Canada. I undid the knot, lifted the tarp and slid underneath. The smell I had noticed before was strong. Why not? It was jet aviation fuel, and in the glow of my penlight I saw the stenciled registration number XP831. I had just found the 'crashed' P1127!

I made my way forward, as quietly as I could under the tarp. I didn't want to keep the light on, but I was afraid of tripping on a line, so I was extremely cautious. The aircraft was facing forward on the ship, and I was on the port side of both. As I came to the engine nacelle, I felt tubes coming out of the starter insert. They must have it ready to fly off in an emergency, I reasoned. Sure enough, there was a rope ladder hooked over the side of the cockpit, and the canopy was open.

I wanted to look in the cockpit, Should I take the chance? I was afraid of making a noise and ending it all right there. I kept still and listened.

I must have been ten feet from Marijke and the guard. The sounds I heard were unmistakable, even in Russian. I felt a visceral nausea to my core. I had asked her to help, and I knew instinctively what I was asking, yet I had let her go. In that instant I knew I was no different from her.

She was giving me the chance, so I took it. Up the rope ladder, very carefully, and look in with the penlight. The two helmets were sitting on the seat. The aircraft could be lifted off in little over a minute in case of an emergency. Who would fly it? What had happened to Stavic?

Time to clear out. I went down the ladder, but my foot slipped and hit the side of the fuselage. I froze. There was silence from the other side of the tarp, then a male voice – no, two male voices! Jesus Christ! What had I done? Marijke's voice, teasing, laughing, cajoling – then muffled. I wanted to puke.

Down the ladder, quietly to the back of the aircraft, and out from under the tarp. I tied the same knot in the line, looked carefully below, swung down, and dropped, just as a man and a woman came out onto the deck.

I did a couple of spring ups, some running on the spot, then jogged off down the deck with a cheery “Lovely evening, isn't it?”

As quickly as I could I ran around and back out on deck, jogged noisily toward the rail, and stopped to whistle the
“Waltz of the Flowers.” I stayed until I heard a commotion and voices, then ran off down the deck as though I didn't have a care in the world.

I went straight down to my stateroom and left the door ajar as I waited for Marijke. It took her ten minutes. The wait was unbearable. She saw me, and I motioned to her to come to my cabin. She shook her head, and said,
“Soon,” and went into her own. I left my door open and sat down to wait.

She arrived in different clothes. I beckoned her in, and she shut the door, standing quite still and without speaking. I went to her, gently taking her in my arms and just holding her. She smelled of toothpaste, combined with other masculine odours which I wanted to eradicate. I began to undress her, and she stood there, passively, while I removed every stitch, then stripped my own clothes off.

Gently, I took her hand and led her into the bathroom. Still not a word had been spoken. I reached into the large marble shower stall, adjusted the water to warm, then entered and drew Marijke in behind me. As the water cascaded over us I held her close to me, wrapping my arms around her, and she let go with a sigh, clutching me frantically. I kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her throat, her nose, and her mouth, probing into it with my tongue. I was already erect, and she dropped to her knees in front of me to take me in her mouth and caress me. I waited, accepting her ministrations, then lifted her up and knelt in a similar position in front of her. Gently I probed with my tongue. She spread her legs wide to give me better access, holding my head as I caressed. Raising my head to look me in the eye, she drew me up to her, kissing me passionately on the mouth and pressing her body to mine. Placing my hands on her buttocks, I lifted her up. She brought one hand down to my penis, directing it into her as she slid downward, wrapping her legs and arms around me, then clutching me tightly. I could only hold her. We stayed like that for nearly ten minutes, until spasms made her shudder. I was still erect, but I had no desire to orgasm. This was for her, not for me. I had to tell her something, and there were no words in any language which could have conveyed the message. I knew she understood.

We dried off, and, wrapped in towels, went into the sitting room. A generous supply of alcohol had been set out for me, and I poured a snifter of Remy Martin for each of us. We touched glasses and drank, then I set them down to draw her to me once more. Only then were the first words spoken.

“The room is clean,” she whispered. “You find out what you need to know?”

“
Yes. It was what I guessed.”

“
Then it was worth it, yes?”

“
I think so. But sometimes you realize the price you pay is too high. When I realized what you had to do to distract them I had my doubts.”

“
I am a soldier, and this is my training. You know this.”

“
I knew it, but it was hard to admit to myself that I had sent you for that purpose.”

“
We use what weapons we have to fight them. That is how I always feel, until now.”

“
Why did you agree, now that you see it differently?”

“
Because it is for you. If you send me, then you accept me. You start to understand.”

“
I have much still to learn about myself and the ways of the world.”

I kissed her, and looked her in the eyes.

“You're not angry that I made you do this for me?”

She pulled back to smile a little.

“No. Only why you don't tell me there are two? One is easy. Two makes me work very hard. They are boys, no experience. I have to slow them down to give you time. Now you owe me debt!”

“
What's the payment?”

“
This.” She dropped her towel, then pulled mine off. “But only with love. My other life is over.”

And we began our new life together.

*

Eventually we drifted off to sleep. I knew it would be a light one for me, there was so much on my mind. When I awoke I looked at my Rolex. Nearly 01:00am. Marijke was curled to me, lying in the crook of my arm.

I thought of how far I had come, in both understanding and acceptance. The present mattered, not the past. And yet I knew that sometimes there were sacrifices which had to be made. But now I felt able to comprehend what these meant to those who sacrificed. And I also knew that I would use whatever means necessary if I believed that it was for that greater good.

My mind shifted. The P1127. I would wait a couple of hours, slip off the ship and call Hammond. He could have a team here in an hour, and if he used the SDECE it would even be quicker. How did the Soviets do it? It had to be landed vertically on the ship. That required experience. Of course! Stavic! Either they bought him or blackmailed him. I thought about his background. A POW in North Korea. Then the tour of duty in Moscow. One way or the other they got to him. They must have offered him a bundle to pull this off.

I began putting the pieces together. The ship was already in place when Stavic took XP831 up for his night trials. The house in Bracklesham Bay? Probably monitoring the Dunsfold tower frequency on a communications set, then beaming a direct signal to the ship on microwave transmission that the operation was a 'go'. The passengers were all below decks because of the 'fumigation', and they had obviously been ready with a makeshift landing grid to protect the deck. The frame with the tarpaulin cover was easy.

I couldn't help but admire the audacity. Once they had stolen the aircraft, they brought it right back into a British port where it sat for 12 hours, under the very noses of the people who were searching for it in the channel. No wonder they were laughing about the 'big joke' on the British. Well, the tables were about to be turned.

The raids on Dunsfold and Kingston were nothing but a smoke-screen, intended to lull the Brits into a false sense of 'it's all over'. Now it would be, and I could get on with my life.

I looked at the face in the crook of my arm. Somehow, I wanted to include her in all my future plans. Maybe when we got back to London we could work it out. I began to feel content, lying there half asleep, Marijke in my arms, fantasizing, and being lulled by the motion of the ship.

What? Motion of the ship? “Shit!” I yelled, jumping up and running through the double doors into the sitting room to look out the windows.

Marijke sat up, startled.

“David! What's wrong?” she called.

“
We're under way! Moving! We weren't supposed to do this until morning! What the hell's happened?”

The jigsaw puzzle had just fallen on the floor.

And what had been the final piece was useless in my hand.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The
English
Channel
–
after
midnight
,
Thursday
,
June
21
,
1962

Marijke jumped out of bed, pulling on her clothes.

“
I go find out.”

Glancing briefly in the mirror, she headed for the door.

“I try to hurry.”

I fumed as I waited, berating myself for not going ashore earlier and placing the call. I thought I was being clever and cautious so I wouldn't be seen, and now I'd ruined it completely. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Marijke was back in ten minutes, out of breath.

“
What happened?”

“
They tell everyone we must leave the dock for another ship to come in. This is a lie. Political officer hears someone tries to defect. If this happens cruise ship project is finished. They don't want this, so they sail without warning.”

“Now what do I do?”

“
Can you tell me about this?”

“
Let's get some fresh air.”

We went up to the boat deck. The lights of Cherbourg were but a glow on the horizon. I considered trying to reach the pilot before he disembarked, but secret messages about a stolen airplane and spies would sound like the ravings of a lunatic. It wouldn't work, and Marijke and I would be arrested and locked up. From the beginning, I told her everything, nothing omitted. It took a long time, and she listened without asking questions. She knew how agitated I was about my miscalculation.

“David, now we sleep. Tomorrow we think of what to do. There will be something.”

Marijke slept, I tossed and turned. My mind churned over how to get a message to Hammond before the ship had gone too far to be stopped. Running out of those possibilities, I considered others, but calm eluded me until I had the simplest solution.

How do you recover a stolen airplane? Why, steal it back, of course. How? Details, just details. 'Sufficient unto the day', et cetera.

Then I went to sleep, smiling.

What fools we mortals be.

*

Portsmouth
,
England
–
the
same
day

Colonel Hammond glared at the squadron leader.

“
What do you mean, nothing?”

“
That's the truth, sir, nothing. Not a scrap of debris that could be remotely connected to an aircraft.”

Hammond shifted to the naval officer.

“And you share this opinion, commander?”

“
Yes, sir. Sorry. We've covered every inch of the area. There's nothing to be found. It's as if a UFO had snatched it out of the air, because there's nothing left of it down here.”

“
Now that's a thought, isn't it?” murmured Hammond.

“
Sir?”

“
A UFO. Or something.”

*

The
Atlantic
Ocean
–
the
next
morning

We were down in the dining room early, the first to arrive for breakfast. I wanted to explore all the options, if indeed there were any, before I told Marijke of my hare-brained scheme. We breakfasted lightly – continental style – with rolls and croissants, butter, jam, and lots of hot coffee.

“
Do you know if they intend to call at any other port on the way to Odessa?”

Marijke shook her head.
“No, they don't tell us about any. If they are afraid somebody defects, they don't stop again.”

“
I'm pretty sure the radio room is on the bridge. There's no way I'd get at it with the ship's officers around.”

She thought about this.

“Do you want I should help again?” she said quietly.

“
No. It wouldn't work on the bridge. It's not isolated like the deck where the plane is. And even if I got in there, I wouldn't know what frequency to use or even whether the message was being transmitted. It could be a complete disaster, and we'd probably get caught. And you're retired now, remember?”

“
Whatever we must do, David.”

I couldn't think of an alternative to my plan. I had to tell her. I knew she wouldn't like it.

“Marijke, I can think of only one way out of this. I've got to fly it off the ship myself.”

“
You're crazy! You can't do this! They stop you! Maybe you are killed!”

“
Calm down, love. There's a lot to consider. If I don't think I can do it we'll find some way of destroying it. We can't let them get away with this.”

“
I know this. But I don't want you dead.”

“
I promise I won't take an unnecessary risk. The odds must be 50-50 or better. Even if I get it off I'd have to have somewhere to go. It won't fly very far, and I'd just as soon not end up having a bath in the Atlantic.”

“
When you will do this if you try?”

“
It's got to be soon. Every hour means another 20 knots distance from Britain.”

“
Why not wait until we go close to Gibraltar? This is British, yes? Maybe it's possible to get a message there, or fly the plane there. Isn't this a better chance?”

“
It might be, but only if the aircraft stays on the ship until then. When I was under the tarpaulin last night, I discovered that it could be airborne in minutes. They may fly it off to a friendly country or a Soviet aircraft carrier, though I’m not sure they have any. But the longer I wait the greater the risk of losing it completely.”

“
The Soviet Navy does not have these aircraft carriers.”

“
I didn't know that. I just know it's ready to take off.”

“
Who will fly it for them?”

“
Probably Stavic, the American pilot. He must be on the ship. He's probably defected, or he's been working for them for years. They must be paying him a lot of money for this.”

“
What he is look like?”

“
Tall, red hair. I've only seen him from a distance, but I'd know him again. Have you seen anyone like that?”

“
No, I don't see him. I can watch.”

“
Let's go out on the deck above the aircraft. I want to see something. I can use your help.”

She smiled.
“I retire, remember?”

I smiled.
“Not that kind of help. There are other ways, you know.”

I really was growing up. We went up to the boat deck, stood briefly on the sun deck abaft the bridge, then casually walked aft toward the stern.

“When we get there, I'm going to lean with my back to the rail and look toward the bow of the ship. You lean on the rail and look to the stern. We'll cuddle close, then I'll ask you some questions and you look for the answers.”

“
All right.”

We arrived at the rail and took the positions I had suggested. I put my arms around Marijke, and we just tried to look like lovers for a few minutes. It wasn't hard. Then the questions.

“On the left side of the aircraft, that'll be your right as you face it, do you see anything that looks like hoses, black rubber tubes, coming out under the canvas?”

She studied the scene casually.

“Yes, I think so. More to front, yes?”

“
Yes, that would be correct. Now, where do those tubes go?”

“
Across deck, and come to two tanks for holding some kind of gas. This is right?”

“
Yes. Now, look very carefully. Anywhere near those tanks, is there anything which looks like a large electrical switch?”

She took her time.

“I don't know. Fastened to the rail is box with handle on the side. Is all I see.”

“
That's got to be it. Okay, that's enough for now. I don't want anyone getting suspicious. We'll go somewhere else for a few minutes, then I must get my music for the rehearsal.”

“
Is it permissible that I come to rehearsal?”

I kissed her.
“Yes, it is permissible. I want you there.”

We kissed again, went below to my stateroom, and nearly didn't get to the rehearsal.

*

The Empress room, on the promenade deck, was the nightclub of the ship. Modern in concept, it was designed around a circular ceiling, bowed windows to port and starboard, with a dais on each side surrounding the circular oak parquet dance floor. We were a few minutes late, arriving to hear the band playing a swing version of
“La Vie En Rose”. They were quite good, and I didn't foresee any problem with my material. Ben saw us and came over. I introduced him to Marijke.

“
Come on and meet the blokes. We're all looking forward to this, David. Now then, this is Taffy on guitar, Dusty on drums, Lofty on the bass, and Choppy on the piano.”

I laughed.
“Two more and you could hire Snow White as your vocalist.”

“
Unfortunately,” said Choppy, “Disney picked up her option.”

I shook hands all round, and introduced Marijke as my liaison with the Soviets. There were some knowing glances.

“'Ere, if I knew Russian ladies looked like 'er, I'd be giggin' in bleedin' Moscow,” said Dusty, bringing chuckles to the band, Marijke and me.

“
With nicknames like those around me, gentlemen, it sounds like I'm back in Kneller Hall.”

“
Kneller Hall? You went to Kneller Hall? Look you, Bach, I thought they were all British there like our place in Deal,” said Taffy with a decidedly Welsh lilt.

“
Then you must have been Royal Marines.”

“
Four of us were,” said Ben, “but Choppy was in the navy as a blinkin' lieutenant-commander. Then we rescued 'im from all that snotty-nosed bullroar. And where do we end up? Right back on a bleedin' boat!”

I laughed.
“Choppy? That's a new one on me, and I thought I'd heard 'em all.”

“
Pater's fault, actually. Loved classical music, wanted me to be a concert pianist. Jumped the gun a bit by naming me Chopin. I expect I'm something of a disappointment to him.”

His smile showed how much he cared.

“Well, you must all feel quite at home with that painting behind you,” I said, indicating the oil of Queen Elizabeth behind the bandstand.

“
Blimey,” said Lofty, “when I've 'ad a few, I keep thinkin’ I'm back on the Brittania with 'Ma'am' lookin’ over me shoulder.”

“
Well, let's try some of these,” I said, handing out the folders. “We won't have to go through everything, just the tricky bits and some of the intros and finishes. Everything should be in there in the order I'll do them, so let's work down from the top.”

For nearly an hour and a half we worked through the songs, re-doing anything that needed polish, and making sure that they knew where the segues were for those that didn't get a spoken introduction. We spent a little extra time on the ballads, simply because they need care in both the singing and the accompaniment. The sound system was good, and I was surprised that there was a wireless microphone for me to use. This would allow me much more freedom of movement, and I could work to the crowd better.

The last song I rehearsed was my finale,
You
Are
Here
. I had begun to use it in clubs as an intimate finish, rather than end with a more boisterous tune. It seemed to work well, and it had almost become my closing theme. I sang it directly to Marijke, and she listened with sad and serious eyes. When we had finished, I quietly asked Marijke if she would go back to her cabin so I could speak to the band privately for a few minutes. I told her I'd explain later. There was no one else around in the Empress room, so the six of us put a couple of tables together and sat down.

“
What's up, Guv?” said Ben. “Something up your sleeve, then?”

“
Gentlemen, I'm going to let you in on something which is dangerous to know about, so if any of you have fears for your own safety you should leave now so you can plead ignorance.”

“
No bloody fear, Boyo,” said Taffy. “We were all Royal Marines, except for Choppy, and he was close enough. We may have been in the bands, but when we all joined in '43 we were in a Commando unit. I smell a rat, and if there's any hunting to do I want to be in on it.”

“
Then here it is. Underneath that cover at the stern on the promenade deck there's a stolen British experimental jet fighter.”