And Is There Honey Still For Tea? (23 page)

‘Why can't you copy them within the Service, and send them to whoever you think they should go to?' I asked. Even three months later I would have kicked myself for asking such a naïve question. But Kim showed no impatience. The tension in the room had vanished.

‘May I speak completely frankly?' he asked.

I nodded.

‘James, things are changing,' he replied. ‘
Entre nous
, Guy will probably be moved out of the Service later in the year. It's either that, or move him up the chain of command, and there are those higher up who have some question marks about him. They may want to send him back to the BBC for some time. So he may be out of the picture. I will not be staying in Section D. I have put in for the Iberian section, which I'm likely to get because of my history in Spain. There is a lot going on in Spain and Portugal. Both countries may be nominally neutral, but the Wehrmacht is very active there, so there is work to do. It's a bit off the beaten track, but I'm hoping that it will lead me on to Italy and North Africa, where I can have more influence. But the important thing is this. If it works out, I will be reporting to a Major Cowgill, a military bureaucrat of the worst kind – no imagination, a stickler for rules and regulations, a man who loves nothing more than counting paperclips. There would be no way for me to copy documents which have no direct relevance to his department.'

He paused to take a drink.

‘No, the only way to do this is to hand the materials directly to someone who can take charge of them and pass them on without delay.'

Kim looked at Anthony. Until this moment he had been nothing more than a spectator, although for me, an influential one.

‘Arrangements have to be made,' Anthony said. ‘Now that we have your agreement, I will ensure that someone contacts you. He will use the name “Alex”; and he will assign you a work name.'

He smiled.

‘We all need to give ourselves something of a new identity from time to time, James, don't we?'

37

I met Alex by arrangement in Green Park about a week later. He spoke immaculate English with the merest trace of an eastern European accent. He was a smartly dressed, pleasant man of average height, in his early fifties, I judged, with thinning, greying black hair and bright blue eyes. He had a wide range of conversation and a good sense of humour – in fact, he was the exact opposite of what I would have expected of a Soviet agent, given my myopic view of humanity at that time. He would call me ‘Tom', he said, during our first meeting, as he showed me some basic tradecraft, tricks of the trade such as changing direction unexpectedly, doubling back on myself, choosing the best seat in a bar or restaurant, techniques that would alert me to the danger of someone following me. I was to come to know Alex well over the next few years. Although he seemed to know a great deal about me, he rarely shared personal information with me. But in a strange way we became friends and, despite the inevitable tension, I came to enjoy our many meetings in parks, and the out-of-the-way cafés and pubs he found for us to conduct our business.

The pattern of our work never varied much. After I had handed in my report, my notes of an interrogation, or my translation of a document to my contact at MI6, I would sit down the same evening and reconstruct as much as possible from memory, write it out in longhand, and place it in a plain brown envelope. The signal that I had something to give Alex was a copy of
The Times
from the day before, placed against a plant pot on the window ledge of my front room, from where it could be seen from the street. In reply, an envelope would be pushed through my door, containing a piece of white paper with a time and a single number between 1 and 10 written on it – nothing else. The number identified a list of meeting places which I had memorised, and which Alex would change from time to time. I would meet Alex at the assigned venue, and discreetly hand over my envelope. It worked like clockwork, and it went on until the end of the war. Towards the end there were one or two occasions when Bridget was in London, taking some time off from the Manor. She found one of Alex's messages and questioned me about it, but I was able to deflect her by telling her that it was just a message from my junior clerk about work for the next day. If she doubted that story at all, she probably thought it might have something to do with another woman, but she never pressed me about it.

Once, early in our relationship, Alex raised the question of money. I told him firmly that I would never accept a penny for my work, and I never did. It was just part of my job; and a part of the fig leaf.

* * *

In July 1945, I was asked by the Home Office to spend several weeks in Nuremberg, to serve as an interpreter and translator attached to the British legal team prosecuting the major Axis war criminals. It was meant to be a short-term assignment until a military interpreter became available, but there were crates full of documents to translate, they were desperate for help, and the team liked the fact that I was a lawyer, in addition to speaking and reading German to a very high standard. In the end I covered almost the entire trial, from its beginning in August until the end in October 1946, with short periods of leave with Bridget in Chelsea. My clerk was horrified and tried his best to talk me out of it, but my practice was well-enough established by now, and colleagues covered for me, as I had for them during the War. Nuremberg had been horribly damaged by Allied bombs in the final weeks of the War, and parts of the city were in ruins. Food was in short supply for the population, but the Americans seemed to have ample supplies of both food and drink, and were very generous, not only to our team, but also to the French and the Soviets. They invited us to some rather good parties.

At one of these parties I met a Soviet interpreter who was also a chess player. We spoke mainly in German, although his English was also excellent. We had a very enjoyable conversation, and even played a game in our heads, visualising the board as we exchanged moves. We agreed to a draw after about thirty moves, because we were talking for a suspiciously long time and we needed to circulate. People who don't play chess tend to be amazed when told that you can play in your head, without a board and pieces in front of you. But, of course, that is how you calculate moves during a game, and it is a routine skill for any serious player. I saw him several times after that, in and around the courtroom, and at the occasional reception, and we struck up something of an acquaintance. We had liked each other immediately. His name was Viktor Stepanov.

38

Tuesday, 11 May

They met in Bernard Wesley's room in chambers. Wesley had asked Sir James Digby to arrive at 10 o'clock, by which time Ben Schroeder, Herbert Harper, and Barratt Davis were already present. Their visitors were expected at 10.30, and there was a sense of nervous tension, of expectation. None of them could escape the thought that this might be their last day of innocence, the day when they discovered whether or not Professor Hollander had a case, whether he had evidence to justify what he had written.

‘What little I know about this,' Wesley said, ‘I know only because Miles Overton telephoned me yesterday. He said that the release of some documentation kept by the Security Services had been authorised. He would not tell me anything about the documentation, but he confirmed that this is the evidence they had in mind when they made the application to the judge to hold the trial
in camera
and without a jury.'

‘So, we are about to see what all the fuss was about,' Herbert Harper observed. ‘I do wonder whether this so-called evidence will live up to its billing.'

‘It won't,' Digby said firmly.

‘I must say,' Barratt Davis said, ‘if they have anything worthwhile at all, I am still surprised that James hasn't at least been brought in for questioning before now, if not arrested and charged. What are they being so coy about?'

‘Exactly,' Digby said. ‘It's all smoke and mirrors, trying to create an illusion of guilt where there is no guilt. It's typical MI6. I had dealings with them during the War, as you know. This is the way they operate. We just have to keep our nerve.'

‘Well, we will soon know,' Wesley said, matter-of-factly. ‘Ginny Castle is going to walk copies over from her chambers together with an officer from MI6, who apparently is going to explain it all to us, and then make us sign official secrets forms warning us that we may be transported to Botany Bay for life if we breathe a word about it outside chambers.'

‘Explain it to us?' Harper asked. ‘Oh, because of the encryption, you mean?'

‘Yes,' Wesley replied. ‘That is why Ben and Barratt are armed with notebooks and several pens of different colours. They are going to take the most comprehensive notes possible, just in case we are only given the one chance.'

‘One lesson we are learning from all this,' Ben added, ‘is that we now know that Hollander is not our only opponent.'

‘You mean that MI6 are playing for the other side?' Harper asked.

‘We have to make that assumption, don't we?' Ben replied. ‘It wasn't entirely clear at the time of the hearing before Mr Justice Melrose, because the Home Secretary was separately represented as an intervener. But even then, it was clear that any disclosure of evidence was going to be made to Hollander first, then to us via Hollander. This means that Hollander and the Security Services are working together, at least to some extent.'

‘It also means,' Wesley added, ‘that the other side have the advantage of us, in that they probably have unlimited access to the officer, whereas we may not see him again until the trial.'

‘This is outrageous,' Digby protested. ‘What right does MI6 have to take sides against me?'

‘If it is of any comfort,' Ben replied, ‘the fact that MI6 is working with Hollander doesn't necessarily mean that they care who wins the case. I think the point is that they see you as a suspect. They have a duty to investigate. It may be that the only reason they see you as a suspect is because of Hollander's article. As Barratt said, if they thought they had any kind of case against you, you would have been interrogated ages ago. So, I think they are helping Hollander largely because they think he may be able to help them. If I'm right about that, and it turns out that Hollander has nothing to offer them in return, they will lose interest in him and in the case very quickly.'

‘I agree with that completely,' Barratt said.

‘That's all very well,' Digby replied. ‘But why are they creeping around behind my back? They could have come to me at any time if they had questions, and I would have been glad to answer them. I am not hard to find. After all I did for them during the War, I think the least they could do is to be straight with me. Instead, they are fawning all over this man Hollander just because he has written some total nonsense about me. It's not on.'

Wesley stood.

‘Try not to upset yourself, James,' he advised. ‘I know it is frustrating, but I also agree with Ben. Once Hollander is shown to be an empty vessel, the tide may turn very quickly, and MI6 may even change sides. We just have to be patient. It may well be that we will have a better sense of that in an hour or two from now.'

He walked to the door of his room.

‘I will go and check that Merlin has put out the best china for the tea and coffee,' he smiled. ‘It's not every day we have such a glamorous visitor in chambers, is it? We must make a good impression.'

Wesley paused at the door, then turned back suddenly to face Digby.

‘James, one further thought, if I may,' he said. ‘I think it would be best if you allowed Ben and myself to do the talking during this meeting. It is not going to help for you to make comments at this stage. I don't want to give anything away, and we can be sure that the MI6 officer is trained to remember conversations, even if he is not actually recording the proceedings. If you have any questions you want me to ask, pass me a note, but not a word from you, please. You will have ample time to talk about it later, once our visitors have gone. Agreed?'

‘Whatever you say, Bernard,' Digby replied stiffly. ‘I will do my best to control myself.'

39

‘This is Mr Baxter,' Ginny Castle began. She seemed nervous. ‘I am authorised to tell you only that he works for a branch of the Security Services which is the custodian of the documents we are about to show you, and that he is authorised to release to you copies of the relevant documents. This is subject to your signing the appropriate forms under the Official Secrets Act, which he will give you now. I am sure you all understand that under no circumstances may the contents of these documents be disclosed to any other person.'

There was no response. Baxter wished those assembled a cheerful good morning and used one of Bernard Wesley's armchairs as a resting place for the large briefcase he had with him.

‘Mr Baxter will remain long enough to explain the documents to you,' Ginny continued, ‘and will answer any questions you may have to the extent that he is authorised to do so. After that, he will leave, as will I, so that we do not intrude on any privileged conversations.'

Baxter briskly handed out black file folders, each containing some fifty documents. The file itself and each document was stamped ‘top secret'.

They are not leaving us in any doubt about the message, Ben thought, skimming through the files. An Official Secrets Act form lay by itself, loose, at the front of the folder. He read it carefully, and signed as soon as he saw Bernard Wesley do the same. Baxter collected the signed forms and returned them to his briefcase. Digby handed over his form, with his signature deliberately truncated and illegible, at full arm's length, his head turned away from Baxter, who thanked him politely.

Baxter then positioned himself halfway between Wesley's desk and the door, straight in front of the desk, so that he could address all those present without turning. He had a copy of the folder in his hands.

‘If I could ask you to open the folders at the first divider,' he began. ‘The first few documents do not really require much explanation. They are a record of the trips that Sir James made to Russia, apparently for the purpose of attending the annual Soviet Chess Championship between 1948 and 1960.'

Digby reacted visibly to the word ‘apparently', but Wesley extended a restraining arm. Baxter saw.

‘When I say “apparently”', he added, ‘I don't mean to imply that Sir James did not attend those events. Indeed, you will find, in the file, copies of a number of articles, written by Sir James for various newspapers and chess magazines, which make it clear that he did. If you will follow along with me, you will see that between 1948 and 1952, the championship was held in Moscow, towards the end of the year, almost always in November and December.'

He smiled.

‘For some reason, our archivists have added the names of the winners in each year,' he continued. ‘They tend to be very thorough, the archivists. They like to err on the side of giving too much detail, rather than too little.'

‘They err in other ways also, I see,' Digby blurted out, before Wesley could stop him. ‘They have Smyslov down as the winner in 1949. In fact, he tied for first place with Bronstein, so they were joint champions, but there is no mention of Bronstein.'

‘I do apologise for that error, Sir James, I'm sure,' Baxter replied blandly. ‘I wouldn't know about that myself, of course.'

He paused, and caught the look Wesley flashed at Digby.

‘If I may continue, you will see that the system changes after 1952. The tournament is no longer held in Moscow every year. Moscow is the venue in alternate years until 1957, but the competition is also held in a number of different cities. So we have Kiev in 1954, Leningrad in 1956, Riga in 1958, and so on. And after that, Moscow is not even every other year. After 1957, it returns to Moscow only in 1961, which is outside our period of interest. The timing also changes. The tournament is held at the start of the year, in January and February, instead of at the end; and, to accommodate that change, it seems that there was no tournament in 1953 – we go from December 1952 straight to January 1954. That new system continues until 1961, after which there is more variation in the dates, but again, that is outside the period we are concerned with.'

Baxter turned over a number of pages.

‘We do not have copies of Sir James's travel documents for each year,' he continued, ‘just for some of the more recent ones, though again, I would suggest that does not matter very much, as his trips are well documented in other respects.'

Wesley jumped in before Digby could react again.

‘Well, all of this is a matter of public record, isn't it?' he asked. ‘I can't see anything top secret about it.'

Baxter laughed.

‘I quite agree, Mr Wesley,' he said. ‘As you say, this is information any member of the public with the time and inclination could discover for himself. It's the archivists again, I'm afraid. They are trained to use the “top secret” stamp on almost any piece of paper that comes their way, so you can't blame them. However, this information is a necessary background to the second part of the record, which is undoubtedly top secret. May I ask you to turn to divider two, please?'

Everyone in the room turned the pages in unison.

‘We now come to the part of the record which does require explanation,' Baxter continued. ‘What you have before you in these thirty or so pages is a record of certain events involving western agents behind the Iron Curtain.'

As a hush fell over the room, Ben looked across at Digby. He was staring down at a page of his file. His eyes did not move.

‘Their identities cannot be revealed, obviously, so all the information about them, as well as the information about the events in which they were caught up, is encrypted. Some of these agents, the majority, were local people we recruited, people living and working in cities in Russia or cities within the Soviet Bloc – East Berlin, Prague, Budapest, and so on – but a few were people we had infiltrated. That is all I can tell you about that. Each agent is represented in the documents by a five-digit number, a unique number assigned to that agent, and never used to refer to anyone else. You will also see some strange words, such as “Wallflower” and “Aubergine”. These refer to networks of agents, and if you match the number with the name, it tells you which agents are members of which networks. There is also a numerical code for the cities in which the agents were based.'

Baxter paused for effect.

‘You will notice another numerical code,' he added, ‘next to a date, or more usually, a range of dates. This code is used to refer to an event in which an agent was involved. The number 1 refers to information that the agent is confirmed dead. The number 2 refers to a forced relocation. The number 3 refers to information that the agent has disappeared, whereabouts unknown. The number 4 means that the agent is no longer in contact, is no longer transmitting, or our people on the ground have been unable to find him, or her, but no further information is available. The number 5 applies to networks only, and indicates that the network has been obliged to disband temporarily for the safety of its members, in which case, information about the individual agents is recorded as it comes in. Code 6 indicates that the network has been completely rolled up and is no longer viable.'

He selected a page.

‘If I may give you one example?' he said. ‘Please turn to page 24. Here you see a reference to Network Iris, which was based in East Germany, and consisted of about ten men and women – their numbers are given. This network was one of our best. It had been very productive for several years, but it suddenly went silent in April 1956. So Network Iris was then given a code 4. Our local resident would have done his best to investigate in difficult circumstances, and you see that he received intelligence from agent 78475, not a member of Iris, that agents 58376 and 29735, who were members of Iris, were listed as code 3. In the case of agent 29735, this information was revised to code 1 in June, in the light of further intelligence that he had been taken to Moscow and summarily executed in Lubyanka Prison. On receipt of this intelligence, Network Iris was then revised to code 6.'

Baxter closed his file and held it facing down to the ground.

‘And so it goes on,' he said. ‘You can work your way through it on your own. I need hardly add that this record has a very limited circulation. It is made available only to senior officers who have a clear need for the information it contains.'

‘I take it you are not suggesting that it was made available to Sir James Digby?' Wesley asked.

‘I am not suggesting anything,' Baxter replied. ‘I am not authorised to discuss with you any significance that this record has, or does not have. My remit is only to explain it. But I do feel free to direct your attention, as a purely factual observation, to the dates on which information about the agents was received, and to invite you to correlate it with the dates of Sir James's trips to Russia. You will find that there is not an exact correlation, but a reasonably close one.'

‘Then, you are suggesting something, aren't you?' Ben said. ‘You are suggesting a correlation between Sir James's presence in Russia and whatever fate is believed to have befallen your agents.'

‘Again, Mr Schroeder, I am not drawing any conclusions myself. It will be for others to draw conclusions.'

Digby was gripping the arms of his chair as if he intended to crush them. His face was bright red.

‘On a purely factual basis,' Bernard Wesley asked calmly, ‘and without attributing responsibility to anyone, how many agents are believed to have died, or are unaccounted for, during the period between 1948 and 1960?'

Baxter looked down and pursed his lips.

‘Approximately five hundred,' he replied, ‘not to mention a significant number of innocent individuals who got caught up with them. But you will forgive me if I add that I do not think of these men and women only as numbers.'

Wesley nodded. ‘No, of course. I asked simply for information purposes.'

He paused.

‘And the information recorded in these documents – and I am not asking for any details at all – is derived from intelligence which officers of your Service received, evaluated, and presumably rated reliable enough to include in the record?'

‘That is exactly correct, sir,' Baxter replied.

Wesley exhaled deeply.

‘Yes, well, thank you, Mr Baxter. Does anyone have any further questions?' Wesley asked. There was no response.

‘Ben, Barratt, do you have an adequate note?' Both nodded.

‘If there should be any further questions, Mr Wesley,' Baxter said, ‘Miss Cathermole knows how to contact me. I would be glad to help, as long as they are factual questions about the record.'

After Baxter and Ginny Castle had left, Wesley stood and stretched his arms and legs.

‘Well,' he said. ‘Ben, why don't you go to the clerks' room and tell them we need more coffee, and ask them to send out for sandwiches? We need to go through this material in detail. Now.'