Here Be Monsters (20 page)

‘So what did they do?’

‘They went for Debrecen, of course.’ Audley’s voice harshened again. ‘This was ‘57—Hungary was still wide-open to us then, after ‘56, in the sense that the Hungarians all loathed the Russians so much that they’d do anything for us.’ The harshness was almost gravelly. ‘And we had any number of Hungarians who were prepared to go back, if they knew we wanted something.’ He drew another breath. “That was when we got all the physical data—pictures, measurements, the lot.’

That had certainly been precise: the long-disused Imperial Hapsburg hunting-lodge in the forest, well away from the city and effectively in the middle of nowhere which the Nazis had reanimated and uglified with military perimeter and buildings as a training centre for their Brandenburg elites, which had operated far beyond the battle lines in Russia, which lay only a few miles away; and which, when the wheel had turned full circle, the Russians had in turn occupied, to train a very different elite to fight a very different war in the opposite direction, so it seemed.

All the physical data
. ‘But they’d gone by then?’ She spurred him.

‘Uh-huh. The birds had flown.’ She just caught him twitch under her spur. ‘The eggs had hatched, and the fledglings had departed for warmer climes, never to return.’ He looked at her suddenly. ‘That was the difference:
never to return
.’

‘Why did they close it down?’

‘Ah … well, at first the Three Wise Men thought it was because of the Rising in ‘56, simply. And they were half-right, anyway.’

‘How—half-right?’

‘Because there were Hungarians who’d seen too much, in the nature of things, Elizabeth.’ He made a face at her. ‘Because there were AVRM Hungarians—most of them were bastards, and some of them got lynched in ‘56.’ He looked at her again suddenly. But this time he really saw her, as he had not done before. ‘Jesus Christ, Elizabeth! You don’t really remember ‘56, do you? When the Iron Curtain was split open wide for a time, and you could drive all the way to Budapest, and the people in the villages would cheer you on, and offer you drinks? And Suez—when Radio Cairo went off the air after our Canberras had hit it? You were just a baby then, of course.’

Momentarily his guard was down:
Hot heart, cool head
was what he preached, which was the old KGB-NKVD axiom. But the recollection of long ago—and perhaps of a mistake he had made in that far-off time—was animating him now, and betraying him as it did so.

‘I’m not quite with you, David—?’

‘It was the Age of Innocence, love. Or relative innocence, anyway—when I was young … or, if not quite young, not
senile
, anyway.’ He grinned at her hideously. ‘Old memories—senile reminiscences, no more.’ He flexed a leg, and massaged its constricted knee. ‘The fact of it was that he wasn’t the only defector. Because there was this Hungarian AVRM who came over at about the same time—probably for much the same reasons as Gorbatov. Only he went over to the Americans, not our people. But he’d run all the rackets in the Debrecen district, and he was nobody’s fool. So it transpired.’

So that was what had happened, Elizabeth realized in a flash: the British had stumbled on something, more or less by accident. But, when it had gone cold on them, they had naturally offered it to the Americans—
naturally
, because after Suez they must have been hell-bent on ingratiating themselves with their former allies, and Comrade Colonel Gorbatov had said ‘
or Anglo-American
’
, so they had something to offer.

‘And what did he say?’ And that, to clinch the matter, helped to account for those two lists—one British, but the other American.

‘He’d got the other half of the sweepstake ticket.’ Audley nodded. ‘Which he shouldn’t have had. But he was a lot smarter than old Gorbatov, anyway. Because, when he came across, it was Debrecen that he reckoned was his ticket to the good life—the bit printed in Russian, which the Americans would want to read, do you see?’

Elizabeth saw, but didn’t quite see. Because the record was inexact here, to say the least, and what Paul had told her about David confirmed its equivocation about the exact nature of Debrecen: ‘
he never quite says the same thing twice
’
.

But she had to cut through all that now, after the Pointe du Hoc and their Xenophon interview, and all the miles which were slipping away now, at more than one for each minute, towards Major Turnbull and the onetime Squadron Leader Thomas.

‘What
was
Debrecen, David?’ If he’d never said the same thing twice he probably wouldn’t say the same thing now, when his neck was on the block. But even the difference between what he said now, and what he had once said, was something she had to establish. ‘Really?’

He took the point of the question, judging by the mile-or-more he used to think about it, at 70 mph, while estimating both ends against the middle.

‘Uh-huh.’ He took another half-mile. ‘Well, that’s the million pound bingo question, Elizabeth.’ He tried to stretch a leg again. ‘It used to be the sixty-four-thousand dollar question, but we’ve had inflation since then.’

Another mile, tenth by tenth, almost empty and featureless, and boring now that there was nothing sniffing her British Racing Green tail across the Wessex countryside, which was opening up on either side. But she could still afford to wait for her answer.

‘Our Three Wise Men were never 100 per cent convinced—just about 80 per cent.’ About half a mile. ‘And neither were the Americans.’

‘Why not?’

‘Why not?’ Four-fifths of a mile. ‘Deep down, they didn’t want to believe that young Americans could betray 1950s America—even though they put a man on it who believed that
everyone
was guilty, until proved innocent. And even then probably not. He was a hard man—in some ways a monster.’

That led straight to the next question, but he continued before she could get it out. ‘Our people had fewer illusions. Not because they were smarter, but because they had bitter recent memories. And also we’d just come down in the world—and down with a bump, after Suez. So we weren’t just the poor relations—we were maybe the baddies. So what was there to betray? A British Dream, like the American Dream? What dream?’ He glanced at her. ‘So what was Debrecen? Our people weren’t sure—but they knew they were on to
something
. And they reckoned there might be an American angle, and they needed to get in with the Americans again, after Suez. So they decided to offer them what they’d got as a present, in the hope of re-establishing co-operation.’ He tossed his head. ‘That was my first big job: carrying tribute to Caesar.’ Then he shook his head sadly. ‘I had no idea what I was getting into—no idea, poor innocent youth that I was!’

Elizabeth noticed that her speed had crept up to 85, but mercifully there was nothing behind her. And there was nothing of the truth in his last words, either: he had been a rich bachelor in his thirties in ‘58, and the reverse of innocent for sure, then as well as now. She dropped back to 70. ‘What went wrong?’

‘Hah!’ He brightened perversely at the memory. ‘Absolutely nothing—at first. In fact, when they knew what I’d got with me, it was all roses and violets. Because it was exactly what they wanted, so they thought -because they had their appalling Hungarian, you see. About whom we didn’t know, but who had given his half-ticket to them, so they had a much better idea of what Debrecen might have been than we did. They knew more—
and
they’d also had a look at the place, just like us. But with the same result. And they really didn’t know what to do next, or even where to start.’ The brightness remained, but it was as frosty as a short winter’s day.

‘And then in flew Sir Frederick Clinton’s new star, with a warm Special Relationship smile on his face and the rest of the ticket in his briefcase. Roses and violets, Elizabeth.’

But dust and ashes to come, thought Elizabeth grimly. ‘You had the dates Colonel Gorbatov gave you. But what exactly were these people doing in Debrecen? Why were they there?’

Audley gazed out of the car window at his side, as though he had suddenly found the rural view more interesting. ‘You’ve read the record, haven’t you?’

‘Yes.’ She waited for him to continue, but instead he went on admiring the Hampshire countryside. ‘”Hand-picked subjects, with good career prospects, psychologically equipped for deep-sleeping”.’

‘Yes.’ Audley nodded at a cow which, from its melancholy expression, looked as though it had heard all about the new EEC milk quotas. ‘So?’

‘So what was so particularly important about Debrecen?’

Audley turned towards her. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

It ought to be enough, thought Elizabeth with a deep-down shiver: the idea of long-term treachery, waiting to mature like wine, but cellared instead in the dark recesses of certain human souls. But somehow it wasn’t. ‘No, David.’

He smiled a sudden genuine smile, which cruelly reminded her of that smile of Latimer’s. ‘Quite right, Elizabeth. But how do you know?’

Elizabeth was torn between the two smiles. Because if Paul was right and Latimer was gunning for David … if it came to the crunch—whose side was she on?
Whose side
? The answer confused her horribly, it was so immediate. And she knew she must cover her confusion. ‘Don’t ask me how. I don’t really know.’

‘Of course! Who ever does, when it comes to instinct? Don’t worry, my dear—be glad that you’ve got it, that’s all.’ He nodded. ‘Everyone thinks they have it, but it’s atrophied in most people—like the hunting instinct. I knew a troop-sergeant in Normandy who’d never fired a shot in anger until we landed, but he always knew when there was an 88 waiting for us.’ Nod. ‘Your Paul hasn’t got it—with him it’s mostly reason and logic, plus a little experience and a lot of knowledge … all topped off by low cunning and an eye for the main chance. But most women have more of it than most men, anyway. So just be thankful.’

Her
Paul, again. Yet, for another inexplicable reason, she felt impelled to defend him now. ‘You do
my
Paul less than justice, I rather think. He’s very loyal to you, for a start, David.’

‘Loyal?’ He half-spluttered. ‘
Loyal
?’

‘Or … or protective, let’s say.’

He said nothing for another mile, digesting her indiscretion; which must either have confirmed his guess or confused his certainty; and that seemed to be enough for him, too, for the time being.

‘Debrecen -‘ He rubbed both his knees simultaneously ‘—what the unspeakable Hungarian had given them, among other things, was names, Elizabeth. Not the traitors’ names, which he didn’t know … the names of the Russian top brass he’d welcomed, on behalf of Rakosi—he was one of Rakosi’s front-men. Rakosi was the Hungarian top man, Elizabeth.’ He half-apologized for assuming her ignorance of mid-twentieth-century history. ‘Because the Russians couldn’t ship in their top brass, to Debrecen, without going through the motions of trusting Rakosi, who was
their
front-man. Uh-huh?’ Pause. ‘So he was there with the red carpet, first for Shelepin, and then for Zhurkin, and also for Semichastny—all future KGB bosses, but also all top
Komsomol
youth leaders. And two of them genuine war heroes—Shelepin was a Hero of the Soviet Union, for his partisan work behind the German lines, and Zhurkin had flown Russian fighters all the way from the Spanish Civil War to Korea—he was a sort of “Red Douglas Bader”, with his tin legs … But they were all real heroes of the people’s revolution—even Semichastny, who was trained as a chemical engineer in the Ukraine—son of an illiterate mill worker, pre-revolutionary, whose umpteen children had all made the grade under the new regime: getting a handshake from them, and a pat on the back, and a “Right trusty and well-beloved” commission—which was to be filed in the archives of Dzerinsky Street, never to see the light of day—all that would have been like being tapped on the shoulder by Her Majesty, and blessed by the Archbishop of Canterbury … Or by the President of the United States—or bussed on each cheek by the President of the Republic—do you see, Elizabeth?’

Or touched lightly by the Chancellor of the University, and gowned colourfully for excellence? Touched in the remote hope that the twin evils of ignorance and intellectual arrogance might forever be expelled?

‘You mean, it was just a morale-raiser?’ She heard her incredulity. ‘All that trouble? And the risk—?’

‘Ah … ’ The long legs bent again, and the knees came up for massage. ‘There was another reason—or two reasons … Because there was another name. And, if the Wise Men of Research and Development and the Pentagon had it right, it was the big name—the Name of Power, Elizabeth. Although you’ll never even have heard of it. Because if you punch the name on that wretched Beast of ours the thing will perform its two favourite actions: first, it will not answer your question, but will request your authorization instead; and second, it will sneak on you to the head teacher and master-at-arms, whether you have clearance or not.’ He let go of his knees and smiled at her. ‘But I am a different sort of beast. A human beast, am I. And I spit on the new beast—may it be visited with sudden extreme variations of temperature and floods of water from the sewers, and electronic illnesses hitherto unknown. And, most especially, I spit on the memory of its prophet and servant, Comrade Professor Kryzhanovsky—
Kryzhanovsky
.’ He pronounced the Name of Power without benefit of Russian sound, syllable by syllable, much as a Russian might have attempted
Worcestershire.
‘
Vladimir Ivanovitch Kryzhanovsky
, Elizabeth.’

This, again, was the authentic Audley: the Audley whom Paul loved to imagine-as casting himself as one character after another out of his beloved Rudyard Kipling.

‘I’ve never heard of him, David,’ she said meekly.

‘No, you wouldn’t have done. He’s long dead, thank God. And …
hmm
… and since it
was
natural causes maybe we should thank Him, blasphemy or not—‘ He stopped suddenly.