Spy Out the Land (18 page)

Rachel shot a look at Harmigan, who glared back: he had warned her before the meeting that she was not under any circumstances to mention that she had previously suggested Dark might still be
alive, as it would put them under far too much pressure in the room. They were to present a united front.

‘It is indeed the case that we learned of Dark’s supposed death via a document passed to us by an agent-in-place in Moscow. This was a report written by Alexander Proshin, who we
believe was Dark’s handler in London for many years. In our view, the most likely explanation for this is that the Russians
meant
to kill Dark, but Proshin or someone in his team
didn’t finish the job properly and his report was an arse-covering exercise – if you’ll pardon my language.’ The men in the room smiled at her tolerantly. ‘It might be
that Dark was badly wounded enough that he seemed dead, or that they thought he had no chance of surviving in the open. Whatever the case, it’s now clear that he did survive and made it to
Stockholm. Once there, it wouldn’t have been very hard for him to establish a new identity, especially as he speaks fluent Swedish on account of his mother. We’re still looking into
this, but it seems that for the last eleven months he’s been working as a manual labourer during the daytime and at a homeless shelter a few nights a week.’

At this, Harry Bradley let out a derisory snort. ‘So he’s got an African girlfriend and works at a soup kitchen – did you trace him through his subscription to the
Guardian
?’

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Jenkins rolled his eyes. Bradley was a ‘good ol’ boy’, and relished it. A stocky, bear-like man with a crest of dyed black hair, he had
disappointed his family by going into the espionage game – his uncle had been a senator and his father had been the ‘Dixiecrat’ candidate for president in 1952. Further back, the
family had been staunch segregationists. He was well known for airing controversial views to provoke, and Rachel decided the best way to respond was to pretend it had been a serious question.

‘No, sir, we traced him because he escaped from custody in Finland and Interpol issued a notice as a result. The location rang a bell, so I looked into it.’

Bradley folded his arms, his expression mock-chastened. ‘Smart girl. By the way, how old is Dark? Judging by that first photo you showed us, he looks like he’s getting on
some.’

‘He’s just turned fifty.’

Bradley gave a low whistle, milking it. ‘Shit – I’m forty-eight and can barely finish a round of golf.’ He peered over his spectacles at the others, looking for a
supporting nod or smile, but nobody gave it. Unbowed, he leaned back in his chair and played with his dossier’s treasury tag, twisting the bright green cord in his fingers. ‘I guess I
don’t get the flapdoodle. Dark’s on the most wanted list, but is he a serious threat now?’

Rachel looked at Harmigan, who nodded and turned to Bradley.

‘Harry, this isn’t a “flapdoodle”. In my considered view’ – he placed enough emphasis on ‘considered’ to remind Bradley and the rest of the room
of his own war record – ‘this man is the worst traitor this country’s ever had. His actions make those of Philby, Blake and the rest of them seem like . . . well, a child stealing
candy from a baby would perhaps be the simile in your idiom. He was head of our Soviet Section and, for a brief time, deputy Chief. As far as we can determine, he betrayed every secret he came
across between 1945 and 1969 – and I’m afraid he had full Five Eyes clearance.’

‘I heard enough about all that when he went missing. But that was six years ago, Sandy. It’s not like he can tell Moscow any more secrets than he already has.’

‘No, but if the Russians get hold of him again they might decide to go public this time. The papers would jump with joy, and we’d all be up against it.’ He looked around the
room, and waited as everyone imagined the headlines if Dark’s treason was unveiled at a press conference in Moscow, and the resulting pressure they would all be under to explain it.
‘There’s also a question of justice,’ he went on. ‘Dark’s actions led to the deaths of dozens of our agents, assets and officers – in some cases he did the deed
himself, at point-blank range. We’re very keen to see him brought to account, and I trust your government is, too.’ A facsimile of a smile flickered across his face, then vanished.
‘We also still don’t know precisely what he betrayed. Miss Gold wrote an excellent damage assessment at the time, which we’ve included in your dossiers for reference, but it would
be more useful to hear it from the horse’s mouth. Unfortunately, we’re not the only ones interested in that. Dark is a walking intelligence gold mine. Any foreign government or group
that manages to get hold of him might be able to squeeze him for everything he knows. That could be Peking, the Cambodians, Middle East terrorists . . . you name it. We have to stop that from
happening at all costs. The reality is that every moment he’s out there creates the potential for another catastrophe.’

Bradley frowned. ‘Okay. So bring the bastard in. You have photographs of him, Interpol’s sent out an alert. Presumably you can just arrest him the moment he tries to leave
Finland.’

Harmigan steepled his hands together and smiled benignly, his long face taking on an almost priestly demeanour. ‘The Finns already took him into custody and he escaped, knocking out the
head of their coastguard in the process. He’s probably already left the country by now. The border controls on the boats there are practically nonexistent – you just need to buy a
ticket. Our best guess is he’ll have boarded a ferry back to Stockholm, as that’s the direction the kidnappers took, and one of my men in the city is making contact with Swedish
intelligence as we speak. We hope to pick him up soon, but I’d caution against complacency when it comes to this man. We don’t know where he is, what identity he’s using or what
emergency measures he has in place. He’s successfully evaded the attentions of every major intelligence agency in the world for six years, and has three decades of experience as an operative
and officer. He’s highly trained in escape and evasion techniques and has even worked as an assassin, killing an exceptionally unpleasant individual in Hong Kong. And as Miss Gold has just
explained, he broke out of the Lubyanka, which as you know is a prison
within the KGB’s own headquarters
.’

Bradley’s lips twitched, but he fell silent. Harmigan raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘Any more for any more?’ Rachel was considering what he had just said when she realised
there was a stirring to her left, and that the prime minister was addressing her.

‘Miss Gold, or Sandy if this isn’t Miss Gold’s domain, can you explain to us how the Swedes didn’t realise Dark was living there? They have checks, don’t they
– identity cards and so on? My impression’s always been that it’s a fairly enlightened democracy.’

His tone was friendly, the Yorkshire lilt to his accent more obvious than on the television or radio. She smiled. ‘A little too enlightened, perhaps, Prime Minister. You’re right, of
course, but their “open society” model cuts both ways, and has unfortunately been rather useful to terrorists. So far this year they’ve expelled two Japanese Red Army members, and
you may remember there was a group who staged a siege at the West German embassy in Stockholm in April and killed two diplomats in the process. Associated with the Baader-Meinhof gang, we think. It
also looks like members of Black September were hiding out in the city before the Munich massacre.’

Wilson took a long draw of his cigar, then tipped it against a glass ashtray on the table. ‘I see. Have the Swedes been turning a blind eye to all this, or are they incompetent in some
way?’

Harmigan stepped in again. ‘I suspect a little of the latter, Prime Minister. There has been talk of Soviet infiltration of Swedish intelligence in the last couple of years, but to date it
seems to be just that. And as I understand it from colleagues in Stockholm, while they have some knowledge of these terrorists and radicals, in practice they are extremely hard to pin down. Some
operate under cover at legitimate organisations while others simply lie low in flats in the city, either having cash funnelled to them through a network of contacts in the region or by robbing the
occasional bank to top up funds.’

Wilson leaned back, staring at the ceiling. ‘Could one of these groups have helped Dark?’ He sat up again and turned to Rachel, fixing her with his gaze. She froze for a moment
before regaining her composure.

‘That’s certainly a possibility, Prime Minister. It could be that he became involved with a terrorist group and they’ve turned on him and kidnapped his family, or something
along those lines. The ballistics experts in Finland have told us that the kidnappers used nine-millimetre Makarov cartridges, which are standard issue within the Warsaw Pact, but also a US
Army-issue M26 hand grenade. Those are more commonly known as “fragmentation” grenades, because an indented liner fragments when they explode. Baader-Meinhof stole a large cache of them
from the American base in Miesau four years ago, and we know the Japanese Red Army used them when they held up the French embassy in the Hague in September.’

‘Well, that narrows things down,’ said Bradley. ‘We’re dealing with a radical leftist group who hate America, right?’

Rachel tried not to react to the naked self-interest and smiled politely instead. ‘It’s really too early to say. It might be that, or even a directly Soviet-sponsored cell, but a
group on the right could also have captured some of the Miesau stock and used it to frame leftists, for example.’

Harmigan broke in again. ‘Oh, I think that’s a little far-fetched. Let’s not start seeing elaborate conspiracies until we have a little more to go on.’

She bristled at the public dressing-down.

‘Just keeping an open mind, sir,’ she said, with a tight smile.

Wilson appeared not to have noticed the momentary crack in their united front.

‘All right, Miss Gold, Sandy – I’ve heard enough. What is it you want from us, and from me in particular?’

Harmigan was waiting for the opening, and pushed a sheet of paper forward on the table. ‘I’d like you to sign this, Prime Minister. We need to set up a security cordon very quickly,
but we’re going to have to persuade Interpol and everyone else to go along with it. Your signature would speed up the process considerably.’

Wilson reached for the form. He read it in silence, his brow furrowed, then he peered up at Harmigan.

‘I appreciate all you’ve just said, Sandy, but isn’t this still rather over the top for one man? You’re asking for troops with automatic weapons at every customs post,
port and airport across the whole of Western Europe.’

Harmigan nodded. ‘If you remember, last year you authorised the deployment of four hundred troops to Heathrow, backed by tanks. Security was tightened in airports all around the
world.’

‘Yes, but that was because we were worried there would be terrorist attacks.’

‘Prime Minister, Paul Dark
is
a terrorist. Six years ago, he murdered the Chief of my agency in cold blood. We have the ballistic evidence to prove it. He was then directly
implicated in the assassination of two further Chiefs. He also tried to assassinate you.’

Wilson’s head jerked up. ‘What did you just say?’

‘I’m afraid so. It was on your visit to Nigeria in 1969. I’ve brought the dossier on the incident.’

He passed a buff folder to Wilson, who flicked it open. Three minutes and some seconds later, he closed it and turned back to Harmigan.

‘Pardon my French, Sandy, but why the fuck am I only being told about this now?’

The atmosphere in the room had now changed – everyone was finding pieces of lint on their trousers or a spot on the ceiling to examine. Harmigan smoothed his hands over the leather sleeve
of his chair. ‘Well, sir, because Dark was initially exonerated of any involvement in this by my predecessor. I did consider raising the topic with you at our first meeting, but due to the
passage of time and the importance of establishing trust I felt it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.’

‘And sleeping traitors! Lying to my face seems a mighty peculiar way of establishing trust. You carefully skimmed past all of this, as I remember it. There had simply been some
“suspicions” about him, you told me. You also told me he was dead. Now I learn he was some sort of KGB assassin intent on killing everyone in Britain, me included, and that he’s
alive and kicking and perhaps getting ready to do it all over again. It’s a bit much, Sandy, really.’ He threw the dossier onto the table and pointed at it scornfully. ‘Did you
brief Heath about this?’

‘No, sir. I didn’t feel it was relevant.’

‘Oh. Did he try to kill him, too, then?’

‘No, sir.’ Harmigan bowed his head. ‘I understand the frustration, sir, and I apologise for not disclosing this earlier. But we really do need to find this man at
once.’

Wilson took a sip of water from a glass in front of him, then set it down.

‘What about the Russians, and the Chinese? They’re hardly going to miss it if every airport and harbour in Western Europe reinforces its security, and they’ll want to know
why.’

‘I’m afraid that can’t be helped, sir. We’re just going to have to get hold of him before they do.’

Wilson took a pen from his pocket.

‘Well, make bloody sure you do.’ He signed the paper with an angry flourish and handed it back to Harmigan, then levered himself up from his chair. ‘Thank you for the briefing
– I’m afraid you’ll have to finish without me as I have another appointment I must attend.’ He nodded curtly at the figures around the table. ‘Gentlemen. Miss
Gold.’

He signalled his aide by the door, and walked out.

‘Drink?’

‘Thanks. A small one.’

Harmigan strode to the glass-topped trolley and surveyed the collection of bottles.

‘Scotch do you? I’ve a twelve-year-old Laphroaig if you fancy.’

‘Perfect. No ice, your way.’

Harmigan smiled to himself. For all the supposed pedigree of his family, the man was a philistine. He took out the bottle, selected one of the stippled glasses from the tray beneath and poured a
measure into it, then walked over to the wingback chair and handed it to Harry Bradley.