Faithless (27 page)

             
"Drinks?" said Joe.

             
"Not for me," said Karen. "I'm not feeling very well."

             
John shrugged at Joe. "Sorry."

             
Joe slapped his back. "No problemo buddy. Here have a Labat Blue. I have hundreds of them in my cellar and if you don't drink them, I'll have to, then I'll get fired."

             
John called back over his shoulder to Karen. "Need a hand with the girls?"

             
Angie waved back. "No, don't you dare. I'm having a ball. We've got them."

There was a barbeque in the big garden. Everyone was dressed smart-casual, men with Canadian beers in their hands and glasses of white wine for the ladies. A Filipino chef and maids were in charge of
the barbeque. There were a couple of people from the Canadian High Commission he didn't recognise but nearly everyone else was from K4 or K3. He saw Philip talking to Ailsa. Philip waved and Ailsa glanced over her shoulder to see who he was waving at. She smiled absently before turning back to Philip. Joe led John to where Rob was talking to a guy from the High Commission. Rob and Joe had a shared interest in American Football. Rob was a San Francisco 49ers fan ever since he'd coached youngsters in rugby one summer exchange programme at Berkley.  Joe supported the Delaware Ravens.  John knew nothing about it so he smiled and looked round to check that Karen was ok. She was getting on well with Angie and there were smiles and laughs over the twins.

             
"Can't believe you're here," said John to Joe.

             
Joe laughed. "Nor me really. I think back to those discussions about freedom and anti-imperialism we had in the kitchen in Moscow with little Yelena." He took a sip of beer.  "And now we're here. Do you ever hear from her?"

             
John shook his head. "Not since we left Moscow. "

             
"She was hot. And she wanted your body."

             
John laughed. "Whatever you say hippy boy."

             
"I guess we grow up and accommodate to the real world," said Joe.

             
"So no more pot?"

             
Joe shook his head. "I have a yearning sometimes, but it's not worth it. Even a sly toke could bring this crashing down on my head." he gestured to his barbeque and his guests.

             
"Where did you meet Angie?" asked John.

             
"At a Grateful Dead concert. I was stoned.  She seduced me."

             
"I could have guessed that scenario."

             
"Do you know much about the blonde woman with Philip?" asked John.

             
"Ailsa McInnes? Just that she's drop dead gorgeous. She's with you in K3 isn't she?"

             
"Just met her," said John.

             
"She caught your eye?" grinned Joe.

             
"She's too stuck up."

             
"She has a reputation you know. I heard it from a guy in SIS."

             
"A reputation for what?"

             
"Being a man eater."

             
"I thought she was married?"

             
"Apparently that doesn't stop her. You be careful. I remember how flustered you were by Yelena.  You have no idea about women. Don't let Ailsa catch you in her trap and her eat you up."

Then there was a commotion in the crowd behind them. He turned round and saw that Karen was arguing with a grey haired man i
n his late forties.

             
Joe raised his eyebrows. "That's the Defence Attaché at the High Commission."

             
"I'd better go over." John walked over as he got near, Angie shot him an embarrassed glance. He put his arms round Karen's shoulder but she shrugged him off. She was livid. She had Morag in her right arm and was pointing at the Defence Attaché with her left, stabbing her finger to make her point. "You and your Reagan are going to destroy the world," she said.

             
The Defence Attaché said, "I'm Canadian not American."

             
"Same thing," said Karen.

             
John shook his head. "No it's not." She shot him a glance. "You should be on my side."

             
The Defence Attaché said, "Karen, you need to inject some realpolitik into your idealistic little world. The Soviets plan to overrun Western Europe and if it wasn't for NATO they would have done it."

             
"I'm not on either side - Soviets or Americans. We need to turn down the testosterone pissing games and find some sanity in this, before we blow ourselves up," said Karen.

             
"Believe me ma'am; we are sane. It's the Soviets who are irrational."

             
"Bullshit," she said. "The Soviets are in an arms race they can't win. Reagan's rhetoric about the Evil Empire and Star Wars make them think that NATO will launch a first strike."

             
"We have to talk from strength. They don't respect weakness."

             
"You're playing a game which risks setting off a nuclear war. If you corner the Russians, they will fire the missiles."

             
"And then we'll defeat them."

             
"At what fucking cost you fucking warmonger?"

             
"Ok Karen, calm down," said John.

             
She snarled at him. "Don't tell me to fucking calm down. Where are all your high blown principles today? You tell him."

             
The Defence Attaché said, with studied calm, "I'm sorry we haven't been introduced."

             
John shook his head. "John Gilroy."

             
"You're British Intelligence?"

             
John shook his head. "Ministry of Defence."

             
"Oh yeah sure," said the Defence Attaché. He spoke in an aside to John. "And your wife's a member of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament? What does your boss think of that?"

             
"I'm not sure it's any of their business," said John, bristling.

             
"Son, you are pretty naïve if you think that. I presume you have access to classified information but your wife is a peace nut undermining the work you do every day."

             
"I have nothing to do with nuclear weapons. I'm pretty certain also that I am not required by the terms of my employment to back everything Thatcher and Reagan come out with."

             
"But you need to be behind your Government's position, son.  Otherwise you'll be exploited by the propaganda of every totalitarian out there."

             
"I'm grateful for your concern."  John turned his back on the man and reached out to Karen. "You ok?"

             
"I want to go home."

             
Angie had her arm round Karen. John said, "Can you help her into the car with the babies?"

             
"Sure."

             
"I'll just go and say goodbye to Joe."

He walked over to where Joe was standing with Philip and Ailsa. Ailsa was dressed casually in a spaghetti strap blue summer top. She had expensive looking sunglasses pu
shed up onto her head.

             
John apologised for the fuss. "Sorry Joe, man. Really sorry."

             
"Never mind, dude."

             
"Did you hear it all?"

             
"Pretty much. Hard to miss." He leaned in, "I'm not without sympathy. We're on the peace loving side ourselves here me and Angie. We just have to keep it to ourselves."

             
"Doublethink."

             
"Something like that."

             
"Still, sorry for ruining your do."

             
"Another time, man. Seriously. Just me and you and Karen and Angie. We can talk about love and flowers and things that don't explode."

             
"Sounds great. I'll see if we can get a babysitter" He shrugged "She's overwrought from having to look after twins mostly on her own."

Philip nodded at him, "I wouldn't worry about it, old man. But the belligerent war monger does have a point. Keep you
r disquiet to yourself."

             
Ailsa said, "Spouses are tricky at things like this. I don't bring mine. He'd have the opposite effect to yours. He'd bore everyone to death."

             
Joe smiled at her. "I'd better go. See you tomorrow probably."

             
"Probably," Ailsa said. Then she added. She's very fiery, your wife."

             
"Scottish."

             
"We Scottish women are a handful. But I think you must like us."

Back in the car Karen was quiet.

             
"You ok, my lamb?" he said.

             
"Aye, I'll be fine. Ignorant old fascist twat."

             
"Yep, he was. I didn't know you had joined CND though?"

             
"You should pay more attention."

             
"I'm worried about war too."

             
"But you still work for them."

June 1985, London:
John took to his work at K3. He met all the support agents and managed to be whatever they wanted him to be. He could empty his personality so that they filled it with whatever preconception or projection suited them. He could be a stiff lipped patriot for the colonels; an understated charmer for the female director of a firm dealing in Soviet cotton; a nerdy computer gamer for the IT consultant whom the Soviet technical attaché was cultivating. He reflected whatever light they shone on him.

K3 knew that Vladimir Vinogradov, suspected to be though not yet formally identified as KG
B Line X officer in London since January, had come to the attention of Danish Security in Copenhagen during his last posting. K3 himself decided that it was worth sending some officers out to Copenhagen to PET headquarters to have a talk to the Danish security service who had studied him while he was there. John was pleased to be selected. His co-worker was going to be Ailsa. SIS in their typical way had something extra in mind that necessitated Ailsa going over to Vauxhall Bridge Road to talk to UKB. He wasn't made privy to that.

             
John was torn between feeling guilty at leaving Karen with the twins for three days and feeling pleased at his first foreign trip. He spoke to Joe who arranged that Angie would go over and keep Karen company. Joe assured him that it was no hardship and Angie would love it.

             
On a bright Monday afternoon they flew from Heathrow to Kastrup Airport. Ailsa read a book the whole way, a historical novel about Ann Boleyn and not at all what he imagined an arrogant upper class Oxbridge First would read. They got a taxi from the airport to their hotel near on the Vester Volgade,  round the corner from the National Museum. The weather was wonderful and the taxi windows were down letting in the cooling breeze. The taxi driver helped them out with their bags and the porter came to collect their cases. John had a small holdall; Ailsa a large heavy Liberty print suitcase which the porter struggled with.

             
"What have you got in there - bricks?" said John.

             
She merely raised an eyebrow and ignored him, giving the porter a generous tip accompanied by a smile from her elegantly glossed lips. At the desk the waiter first greeted them in Danish but within a second switched to English.  "Sir, Madam. How pleasant to welcome you to the Hotel Danmark. You have a room booked?"

             
Ailsa snorted. "Rooms. Two singles. We're not married and we're not having an affair." She turned and smiled at John. "No offence. I mean it's not that you're ugly or anything."

             
"None taken. Neither are you."

             
"But?"

             
He laughed. "But. I'm not tempted."

             
"I see. I think I'm mildly offended."