Debut for a Spy (7 page)

“
Then it is settled. But please, David, not 'Mr. Nalishkin'. I would prefer that you are calling me Vladimir, or the familiar, Volodya. Now, the reason I want to speak with you today. The Soviet government is considering to begin a cruise ship service, operating out of Odessa in the Black Sea. To test out the feasibility, we have leased a ship from Canadian Pacific Steamships – the Empress of Britain. We have had a crew on board for the past month learning about the ship from the Canadian crew – how would you call it – familiarization? Is that correct?”

“
That's the right word, Volodya.”

“
Good. The ship is scheduled to leave Montreal in two days time with the Soviet crew replacing the Canadian crew. We have flown a group of dignitaries from Russia to Montreal to make the cruise back to Odessa. It is these people we must convince to begin our own service in the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. Now, to get to the point – the ship will dock in Southampton next Tuesday, and then proceed on through the Mediterranean to the Black Sea. We would be very honored if you would come aboard and perform a concert for us as we continue our journey to Odessa.”

I was speechless. On the one hand I didn't want to offend the Soviets, yet I shouldn't be away from London with the show rehearsals imminent. Still, I could use a break before the going got tough. Nalishkin read my silence and carried on.

“I understand why you hesitate, David, with your new show coming. Why don't you consider this a holiday? We ask only one performance of you, and I am authorized to offer you one thousand pounds for your services.”

A thousand pounds sterling, I thought. Wow! I'd never been offered that much for a single performance yet, and I knew that the publicity and prestige could only be good for my career. And, sure enough, why not treat it as a well-paid holiday?

“When would I be back in London, Volodya?”

“
Only one week after the ship sails from Southampton. Two weeks from today. We fly you here from Moscow. And I promise you, you will be very well looked after. Marijke Templaars will see to that, I am convinced.” He laughed loudly.

“
Will she be going, too?” I asked, trying not to appear too interested.

“
Of course, of course,” he chortled. “If she is your liaison that will be for on the high seas as well as on land. You do not object?”

“
Not at all, in fact, I think I will enjoy it very much.”

“
Splendid, splendid! I leave you to work out the details with Marijke. Anything you need you must simply ask her.”

There was a tap at the door, and Marijke entered with a radiance that lit the room.

“I don't interrupt?”

“
No, no, Marijke. David has just accepted our invitation to sail to Odessa next week. Is that not wonderful?” He was beaming.

“
I am happy for me, David, for if you don't agree then I don't go either, and I very much want this. I must thank you to make it possible.”

Her smile was warm and sincere.

*

We took our leave from Vladimir Nalishkin and the Soviet Embassy, but nothing at all was said until we had turned into Kensington High Street again – the silence of new acquaintance had descended once more. But this time Marijke broke it.

“What time we are back at Kneller Hall, David?”

“
The concert's not till eight, but I should be there by seven so I can change.” I paused before continuing. “It's only four o'clock now. Would you like a drive and some afternoon tea?”

“
Oh, yes, that is very nice. I very much like this English custom of afternoon tea. Where do we go?”

“
Leave it to me.”

I glanced at her and smiled. It was returned, and her hand touched my arm again. We drove in a contented silence.

I headed out of London as quickly and expeditiously as I could, picking up the Great West Road from Chiswick and then down the A30 past Staines. From then on we were in countryside, and I chose small lanes to meander through as I gradually approached Virginia Water.

Reaching this delightful, protected lake, I pulled in to a parking area and stopped the car. The overhanging trees framed our view of the water, and the silence was only broken by the birds and the gentle lapping of waves at the water's edge.

“Oh, David, it is very beautiful here,” murmured Marijke. “Is it permissible we can get out?”

“
Sure, but you're not exactly dressed for a walk in the woods or along the shore. It's pretty soft ground. I have a blanket in the boot – would you like to sit for a while?”

“
Oh, yes, please.”

We walked along the path for a hundred yards or so, and settled the blanket under a shady oak with a clear view of the water. We sat quietly, really not knowing what to say. Marijke was close to my shoulder, and her hand found my arm again, but this time it lingered, and in a few minutes it slid down to hold mine, ever so tentatively. When I felt her head on my shoulder I looked down, and I couldn't resist the urge to kiss the top of her head. We stayed that way for some time, and I felt more content than I could ever remember. Thinking that it was mutual I glanced at Marijke, and I was startled to see a dark, somber look on her face.

“What's wrong?” I exclaimed. “Have I upset you?”

“
No, David, it's not like this,” she murmured, shaking her head with a deep sigh. “Sometimes I know there is happiness possible which I don't ever have. Maybe I see it for one minute – like now – and I feel great joy and great sadness both together. When I am with embassy people I don't let myself be like this, but with you I feel safe and show my feelings. I like you very much, David, and I am sorry if I embarrass you.”

“
I'm not embarrassed, Marijke. I'm honored that you would trust me with your feelings. But I don't understand. Why do you think that you may never be happy? Surely even in the Soviet system you have some privacy with the right to choose your friends and live out your life as you wish. I know it may not be as free as you would like it to be, but can it be that bad?”

The consternation showed. I put my arm around her, and she rested her head on my chest. She didn't look up as she spoke.

“There are many things which are not how they look, David. This is very true in the Soviet Union. We are sure about no one, and always we live with fear that something goes wrong and we are destroyed.” She hesitated again. “I'm sorry, but I don't speak more about these things. I must ask you don't say anything of this to anyone – not anyone at all. Please?”

“
Not a word, Marijke, I promise you. And if you ever wish to talk about it, I want you to know that you can trust me completely, no matter what you tell me.”

I hesitated, for I was not sure how she would take what I wanted to say next.

“Please don't misunderstand what I am going to say to you, but… if things are not right for you in the Soviet Union, why don't you leave? You are out of the country right now, so stay here. I'm sure I could find out who you should talk with, and I would do it without anyone knowing why I was making enquiries.”

She shook her head.
“This is not possible. Some things I cannot explain. There are many… ah… complicating… yes?... parts of my life which I don't control, and I speak of them to no one. Already I say too much.”

She looked up, her eyes beseeching me to keep her confidence. I took her face in my hands, ever so gently.

“You are safe with me, Marijke,” I whispered. “I like you so very much, and I would never cause you harm – whatever you might tell me.”

I leaned forward and kissed her, gently at first, but a deep hunger in both of us turned it into a passionate, soul-searing revelation that left us trembling and out of breath. As our mouths separated we stared at each other wide-eyed, aware that something mystical had happened in those moments, as if two souls had found each other.

“Oh, David!” she cried, clutching me tightly.

*

We drove away from Virginia Water as if in a dream. I couldn't believe the intensity of emotions which had surfaced, completely without warning. By the time we had reached the tea room on a quiet lane near Sunningdale I had regained my composure, if not my sense of balance. Marijke was almost her old self, but perhaps a little subdued. Over tea, sandwiches and scones, we continued talking.

“
Tell me more about your parents, Marijke. What was your father doing in Russia in 1937?”

“
In 1937 he is with the Dutch Embassy. When the war begins between the Soviet Union and Germany, he stays in Moscow as liaison officer for the Allies.”

“
How did he meet your mother?”

“
At a reception which she attends with her father. My grandfather is serving with the Soviet Army, and my father has many meetings with him about supplies and munitions. Mother falls in love with the handsome Hollander, and they are married in 1939.

“
It is difficult at first for my parents. Stalin signs a treaty with Hitler, and in this way Germany and Soviet Union are allies while the Nazis destroy Europe, including Holland. But my father urges patience – he knows it is only a matter of time before Germany turns on Russia. Hitler is afraid of Communism more than anything else and thinks that if Russia becomes too strong he will not be able to conquer it. My father is right, of course, and so begins the Great Patriotic War, as it becomes known in Soviet Union.”

“
What about after the war? It seems unusual for a diplomat to be left at the same embassy for such a long time.”

“
This is true, and the Netherlands government wants to move my father, but he resigns and applies for Soviet citizenship. I know my grandfather's influence helps, and also to have him sent to the Soviet Trade Legation in Amsterdam in 1947. It is very smart, for who is better to deal with the Dutch than a Dutchman? And this is where I do my schooling and learn to speak Dutch.”

Marijke had become more and more animated as she told me about her parents, and by the time she was finished she was smiling happily again, and the sparkle had returned to her manner.

“That's quite a story, Marijke. I'm sure there's a lot more between the lines.”

“
What does this mean – ‘between the lines'?”

“
It means that behind many stories there are hidden facts and details which no one will ever know, and yet everyone tries to guess what they are and put their own interpretation on them.”

She looked at me strangely, but seemed unable or unwilling to comment further. I felt I was on thin ice here, and that perhaps I should return to 1962 and leave the skeletons in the closet. I reached across the table and took her hand in mine.

“What happens with us, Marijke?”

“
Us? How do you mean this, David?”

“
Us – you and me. You know that I will want to see you, and it’s not just because of business. But where do we go from here? I mean, will this present difficulties for you with the embassy?”

She reached over with her other hand and covered mine. There was a wistful smile on her face.

“I think we take each day when it comes. I feel for you something very special, and maybe a little frightening. They warn us about personal involvement when we are in other countries, and I am afraid I am sent back if anyone knows about this. But two things help us. The first is I become your liaison with our embassy for both cruise ship and concert, and so it looks not strange for us to meet. The second is I pretend to our people that what looks like romance is only to win you over – that it becomes one-sided and I only pretend. And they will believe me.”

“
Why should they? Won't they suspect something?”

“
No. And here you must trust me without question, if you want to see me. You can do this?”

I looked at her intensely.
“Yes.”

Her eyes were serious but there was a smile on her lips.

“Then we enjoy what we find, David Baird, and don't look too far for tomorrow. It comes, and who can know what it brings?”

*

We drove gradually back to Twickenham, arriving at Kneller Hall just after 7. I left Marijke with Archie while I changed, and I was glad that I was able to escort her to the dignitaries area and sit with her while I waited my turn to conduct. The concert was splendid, from the opening fanfare played by the Kneller Hall Trumpeters, through the pageantry of a visiting Highland band, and various solos and selections performed and conducted by both visitors and students. My piece went well, and I enjoyed the experience immensely. When I had returned to my seat, Marijke took my hand in the dark and squeezed it, and that was better than a hundred compliments.

When the concert was over there was a reception in the mess, and necessity forced Marijke and me to spend time apart, talking to various guests. Somewhere about 11:30 she managed to extricate herself and find me, only to tell me that the embassy had sent a car for her, and that for appearances she should take it and be driven back to her flat.

“Go to the ladies' room, and then come to the museum,” I whispered. “I'll be waiting.” For the second time that day she found me there alone, and for the second time that day we kissed amidst musical history.