Faithless (37 page)

             
Wordlessly, he lifted her and and carried her through to the bedroom. He put her on the bed and she began to undress.

             
"I'm a faithless bastard," he said.

             
"And I'm a whore," she said. "We're well suited."

They made love. Their bodies moved together. The sweat when they touched. The warmth of their skin. The wetness. He kissed her nipples and her neck.
He ran his hand through her hair and  pulled it. He held her and pushed himself into her. She gasped. They fucked as they had when each had dreamed of the other. After it was over he held her.  They were silent for a time while he stroked her hair. Then he asked,  "Did you?"

             
"Men always ask that. You mean - have an orgasm? Yes I did. I never normally do like that. But I don't want you to get big headed to go with your big dick."

             
"I loved being with you," he said.

             
"But it comes at a cost," she said.

             
"I know," he said.

             
"We could just pretend it's a one off and leave it at that," she said.

             
"Is that what you want?"

             
"I've told you. I want everything."

             
"Let's just be honest."

             
"We're in the betraying game. It's what we do." She rolled over and began to look for her bra.

             
" I want to be straight with people. I'll tell Karen."             

             
She shrugged. "Don't rush me. I need a drink."

             
"Do you want to go and get a drink with me?"

             
"I have another meet. I can't go with you." She kissed him gently. "I want to."

             
"I want to spend always with you," he said.

She got up and laughed as a way of distracting herself. "Look at the state of this bed. Straighten out the sheets.  I don't want people to think I shagged Vinogradov. Nobody would believe me though. He's too atta
ched to his wife and kids."

After work, John told his mother that he was just going to nip out. He said that when he came back they would go for a drive and find somewhere to take the twins. His mother was so absorbed in looking after grand-daughters that she did not ask him any details. For her it just meant more time alone with her wee girls.

             
John walked down Finchley Main Street and carried out an anti surveillance run he had devised and practised months ago. He went down a narrow side street and then doubled back on himself to make sure he wasn't being followed. After around half an hour with no sign of anyone he made his way to a small greasy spoon café. He ordered cheeseburger and chips and went to sit in the alcove. He checked his watch, drank his coke and checked his watch again. On time, a tall dark haired man came and sat down opposite him. John looked up and saw Bebur Gelashvili.

             
"This is risky. I can't stay long," he said.

             
"It's urgent," said John.

             
"It's nice to see you," said Bebur. "But this is  dangerous."

             
"It's about Vinogradov."

             
Bebur nodded. "What about him?"

             
"Are you sure about him?"

             
"Of course. I've known him for years. We joined the KGB together. Tell me why you doubt him?"

             
"He was very convincing about his motivation to work for the British..."

             
"That's how it should be."

             
"I thought he might be considering coming over for real. He was very insistent we make a plan for saving his wife from you."

             
"Don't worry. I discussed that with him. It's to make it more convincing."

             
"I'll take your word for it."

             
"It's to boost your career. If you have a coup like this you will end up being promoted and be of very great use to us."

             
"I know the theory. He doesn't know about me?"

             
"Of course not."

             
"Does he know why he's doing this?"

             
"He thinks it's just to feed disinformation to the Americans via the British. We want to frighten the Americans by letting them know how their aggressive rhetoric is destabilising things. Also, if the CIA think Vinogradov is a good source then the British will be able to bargain with them to get information from the CIA about their operations against us worldwide. And then you will let us know what they are. But Vinogradov doesn't know any further than the disinformation. I promise you." 

             
"Ok I am reassured. But if I do believe that Vinogradov may be doing some independent thinking, I'll let you know."

             
"But not like this John. Not face to face. At least not in London. Use the other methods of getting in touch with me." He leaned over and stole a chip. He pulled a face.

             
"The ketchup helps disguise the taste," said John.

             
"Awful food. I will leave now. But I want to say how important the material you are providing is. You are helping us stop a world war."  As he got up he said, "How's Karen?"

             
"Not good. She's in hospital with depression. My mother is  here looking after the girls."

             
Bebur shook his hand. "I promise you if anything goes wrong I will get them out of here to be with you in Russia."

             
"Thank you." 

             
John stood and Bebur hugged him. After he'd gone John waited ten minutes and then left, leaving most of his burger and fries uneaten.

June 1985 - Copenhagen:
The day John left Ailsa in the hotel, he walked from the Vester Volgade into the City, going briskly along the Strøget and, as he did so checking the shops for potential gifts to take home to Karen. He had memorised the route from his guidebook. Across Gammeltorv Square then up the Nørregarde until he could see the Reformation Monument opposite the imposing pillars of the Church of Our Lady.  And there standing in front of it was Yelena in a floral summer dress. She smiled when she saw him coming towards her and then when he was close, she leant forward and kissed him like an old friend.

             
"It's lovely to see you John. It's been a long time."

             
"Can we get off the street Yelena?"

             
"Of course. We have a place."

             
He followed as she walked back into the narrow shopping streets. He tried to take notice of notice of where he was going but it was difficult to concentrate.  "You're sure you're not being followed?" he asked.

             
She shook her head. "I'm an Embassy wife out for a walk on a beautiful day. I've done a bit of shopping." She raised her right arm and showed dangling plastic bags with the names of various Danish stores. He noticed she'd bought some shoes.

             
Suddenly, Yelena ducked into a door cut out of a large graffiti ornamented gate that blocked the entrance to what must have once been a stable yard. He did not immediately follow but looked around to try and orientate himself. With a giggle, she reached out and grabbed his bare arm to pull him after her. "Don't get lost, silly." He had to step over and into the quiet, damp courtyard. Pigeons fluttered away as they stepped inside and alighted on ledges above their head to continue their cooing. Once they were in she smiled. She pointed up to some metal stairs that led up to a dirty door next to a filthy window. "It's good. We're safe here. Up there."

             
"You go first," he said.

             
"It is possible," she said and went ahead up the clanging stairs. He followed her warily.  She knocked on the door and Bebur Gelashvili opened it. He ushered John in and then gave him a hug and kissed him on each cheek in the Russian way. "You are very welcome here John."

             
"I'm shaking like a leaf."

             
"Take a tea. Or I have Coke. It is a warm day."  The room was bare. It had been some kind of workshop; there were cobweb draped tools on the dusty shelves and yellowing machine tool manuals in Danish. There was a fold up table standing on thin metal legs and three odd chairs; two camp chairs and one made of wicker that had a hole in it. Bebur sat on that one. On the table was paper and a pencil and three cans of coke. An electric kettle sat on a dirty worktop beside a stained sink. The kettle had recently boiled from the steam coiling from its mouth. There were four clean mugs and a plate with a knife and half a lemon.

             
"We appreciate the risk you have taken," said Bebur.

             
John nodded. He reached over and got a can of coke. He snapped back the ring pull and drank it down in deep gulps until it was half empty. "Sorry, I'm thirsty."

             
Bebur smiled. "It is for you. You are looking well."

             
John nodded. "You too." Then he looked at Yelena. "And you too of course. Though you always look lovely."

             
Yelena blushed. "You are gallant. I have just learned that word."

             
"You have made my wife blush!" laughed Bebur. "I could get jealous! But seriously John you have provided us with useful information. This is the first time we have been able to meet face to face."

             
"So you got the stuff through the DLB?"

             
Bebur nodded.

             
"What is DLB?" asked Yelena.

             
"Dead letter box," said John. "In this case an empty Coke can in the park." He wiggled his Coke can as an illustration.

             
"You should know what is a DLB," said Bebur.

             
Yelena looked peeved. "Why? I am not a trained intelligence officer like you. Why should I?"

             
Bebur waved at her to be quiet. She flushed but said nothing. 

             
Bebur said, "I know we have known each other for a long time. But you know there are procedures. There are things I have to clarify."

             
"For the file," said John.

             
Bebur nodded. "Just so - for the file. So I wanted to ask you John. Why do you want to work for us?"

             
"I told Mr Kirkby. Though that's not his name."

             
"Using an Illegal was the only way we could make contact."

             
"I told him why I came over to you."

             
"I know, but I'd like you to tell me. For the file."

             
"Because all my life I've seen how unjust Capitalist society is. How the haves connive to keep their privilege and live off the backs of ordinary people. How they exploit them and feed them scraps to make them think they are free - offering them TVs and designer trainers to keep them quiet. Feeding them nonsense about how their low wages and bad housing are all the fault of immigrants and foreigners."

             
Bebur looked thoughtful. "But you are privileged compared to the low paid and unemployed. You have a position in British Intelligence. Why is this your fight?"

             
"But this is what I come from. This is what I am loyal to."

             
"You went to an expensive school. We have researched you,"

             
Yelena looked at him protectively. Now and again she flashed a look of disapproval at her husband's questioning. John said, "You should know my real father was a member of the Party. MI5 deceived him into betraying what he believed in."

             
"Though you never met him."

             
"He couldn't live with what he'd done - even though they tricked him into it. I want to make up for what they did to him."

             
"You are a romantic I think. Sentimental maybe."

             
John flushed. "If you don't trust me I should leave now."