The Rocket Man (19 page)

Dmitry sighed. ‘I don't want to, but I think I'll have to go and talk to someone at my Mission.'

D
mitry was afraid. On the way into work that morning he had been aware of a car following, always at a discreet distance. He had taken a different route to work, one with unexpected twists and turns, and the car, a blue Audi, had stayed with him. It was now beyond doubt that he had been put under surveillance. But why? If this was to do with a cover-up in Brazil, they must know that anything he might find out, he would find out within the IAEA. Why follow him outside it? They followed you to see who you made contact with. But who would he be meeting with? Then there was also the possibility that this was connected with Richter, and that they knew about his contact with Nihal; but then what would they gain from watching him? Whichever way he looked at it, it didn't make sense.

Then he thought, they are following me to find out my movements. That's what they do; to find out where would be the best place to kill me. He immediately dismissed this, it couldn't be true, it was too frightening to contemplate, but then he realised it must be a possibility.

Dmitry rose from his desk. His first impulse was to go and tell the DDG about his suspicions, but he was reluctant to do so. He had a feeling that Lascalles would not believe him. The IAEA would not have the slightest idea what to do about it. Dmitry was himself not sure of what was going on; the whole Richter story was too incredible, and he had no proof that this was connected with this Brazilian business, only the most tenuous of links. He might make an idiot of himself. On the other hand, he felt he had to talk things over with someone.

He picked up the phone, then suddenly put it back again, grabbed his coat, and went down to get his car. He drove the few blocks to the Russian Mission to the UN, an ugly modern brick building in the 22nd district not far from the International Centre. When he got there he was unable to park; some function was obviously going on. He left the car in a side-road and almost ran up to the building.

People were arriving in twos and threes as he went inside. It was even possible that he himself was meant to be there; the invitation might be buried somewhere on his desk. He crossed the white marble hall; the sound of animated voices drifted down from above. He bounded up the stairs under the huge chandelier of spiky glass which hung like an upside-down wedding cake. The Russian Ambassador to the UN was standing at the top of the stairs. He shook hands with Dmitry warmly and smiled, then turned to the next guest.

Dmitry went into the reception room. He saw who he wanted straight away. Porfiry Ivanovich Vedyensky was standing to one side, talking to two women and another man from the Russian Embassy. Vedyensky was the KGB
rezident
, under cover of Counsellor. Dmitry had crossed paths with him before; Vedyensky had let him know when he first arrived in Vienna that he expected Dmitry to pass him any information that would be of interest, though of course he didn't have to go along with this these days. Dmitry had made a joke of it. Normally he would have avoided Vedyensky like the plague; he didn't like him, or his plump, unpleasant wife; these people were unhappy about the way things were going; too much of their power was being eroded. They knew, too, better than almost anyone else, how near things were to falling apart. But he had no option; he needed him. Vedyensky would know what he should do.

Dmitry did not go up to him at once; that would have been too obvious. He prowled along the tables, took a glass of wine from a tray and scooped up a handful of canapés. He regretted this at once; he was unable to eat them, the dry biscuits and salty herrings stuck in his throat. Then he went back to stand by Vedyensky. The other man smiled at Dmitry; he seemed urbane, charming, but there was no warmth in his eyes. Dmitry took in snatches of his conversation. ‘Of course, we are becoming more and more marginal in world affairs… the Americans will have their way with everything, there will be nothing to stand in the way of the whole US military-industrial complex…'

Dmitry interrupted. ‘Absolutely. In this I am in complete agreement with you - I think it is very worrying. Porfiry Ivanovich, please excuse me, if you have a moment, there is something I would like to discuss with you.'

‘Good. Talk. Have some of these, help yourself to another glass.'

‘It's a serious matter. I can't talk about it here.' He glanced sideways at Vedyensky's companions.

‘Well, then, come and see me tomorrow.'

‘Shall I come in the morning, early?'

Vedyensky's companions had taken the hint and were drifting away. ‘Yes, yes, whenever you like.' Vedyensky looked at Dmitry closely for the first time; his impassive face altered slightly. ‘You are very concerned about something, Dmitry Nikolayevich? Not a personal problem, I hope?'

‘No, no, it's something to do with the Agency.'

‘Important?'

‘I think so.'

‘Give me a few minutes. I can come down and have a little talk with you.'

Dmitry went and stood by the window and had another drink; he made no attempt to talk to anyone. Fifteen, twenty minutes went by; Vedyensky was still busy socialising. Finally, just when he was thinking of giving up and leaving, Vedyensky came over, put his hand on Dmitry's arm, and said, ‘Come downstairs.' Dmitry winced slightly at his touch.

The Ambassador was no longer at the head of the stairs; the hall was empty. Vedyensky ushered him into an office and closed the door behind him. This wasn't his own office; that would have been in the
rezidentura
, the self-contained part of the Mission which housed the KGB. Even the Ambassador was not allowed there without an invitation.

Vedyensky indicated a chair but Dmitry didn't sit down; he was too agitated to sit still. Until now the suspicions had all been in his head; for a moment he wondered whether it was not all a product of his imagination. It also crossed his mind that it was a mistake to raise it with Vedyensky before he had spoken to the DDG. He was so engrossed with these thoughts that he hardly noticed Vedyensky sitting perched on the side of his desk, waiting, quiet, expectant.

‘Well?' Vedyensky finally asked. His voice was soft, restrained and yet somehow threatening. Dmitry prowled up and down in the space between the desk and the window. He Wondered if the conversation would be recorded; he was ill at ease. ‘Well – it is rather complicated, Porfiry Ivanovich – perhaps there is nothing to it, it may all be some kind of mistake. I am not sure, I have very little to go on.'

‘That's all right. Take your time, Dmitry Nikolayevich. Try to organise your thoughts. Start at the beginning.'

Dmitry explained about the Brazilian situation, about Müller's death, about his suspicions. It did not take very long; somehow the story seemed less sinister when spoken out loud. Vedyensky did not react in any way; once Dmitry had finished, he said very quietly, ‘And you have no proof of this?'

‘No. I have only my suspicions. Of course I've raised the question with the DDG of what may be going on at Valadares, that's all quite legitimate. But that there's been corruption inside the IAEA? How can I suggest this without any proof?'

‘Of course, of course, a very difficult situation. So let's go over this. Who could have been involved? The two inspectors, Müller and Cruz. What about any previous inspections?'

‘This is the first inspection since the plant was opened to safeguards. Bob Haynes was responsible for planning these, and also visited Brazil earlier last year.'

‘But I don't understand. If all these people were involved in a cover-up, why should files have been altered?'

‘Perhaps Müller had decided he couldn't go along with it. He put the correct data in, and that was why he had to be stopped. Maybe he was threatened; although of course this is all absolutely without any proof, I am just trying to explain to you what I have been thinking.'

‘But the Brazilian Nuclear Energy Commission, their Government, they must be aware of what's going on. It doesn't make sense. Why accept safeguards, and then…'

‘Perhaps they don't know. Perhaps this is being done by the disaffected military.'

Vedyensky frowned and pursed his lips. ‘Possible.'

‘But this is only half of it. There is another link. Have you heard of Wolfgang Richter?'

‘Richter? Remind me – oh, I remember, the rocket engineer. Yes, I have heard of him. Why?'

‘Richter has met with Haynes on two or three occasions. On the surface at least, purely socially. Richter has a Brazilian wife, whose father is very rich, very well-connected and also, I believe, has links with some high-up members of the Brazilian Army.'

‘How do you know all this?'

‘I know a journalist.'

‘Ah, yes, Nihal Senanayake – please go on.'

‘There's no evidence to connect any of this, of course. It's just that I feel…'

‘It all fits. Yes, it all fits very neatly.' Vedyensky frowned; he remained where he was, staring into space. Then suddenly he got up. ‘Leave it to me,' he said.

‘I thought I would talk to the DDG tomorrow.'

‘No,' said Vedyensky, emphatically, ‘No. Don't do that. Don't talk to anyone. I want to discuss this with one or two people first, we don't want to move too quickly and I must be sure.' He saw the expression of dissatisfaction on Dmitry's face and carried on: ‘In fact you must proceed very carefully. Speak to no-one about your suspicions; be careful in everything you do. I take it you have told no-one?'

‘Absolutely not.'

‘I'll talk to you again tomorrow – we may need you to help us with some more information.' Vedyensky sat down at his desk. ‘Good. You have done absolutely the right thing to tell me now, before taking it to anyone at the Agency.'

‘There is one other thing. This is what has absolutely convinced me that there is something wrong.'

Vedyensky raised his eyebrows. Dmitry went on, trying to underplay it: ‘There was a break-in at my place last night. Nothing was taken but… I think that I'm being followed.'

Vedyensky's whole expression changed. ‘When did you first notice this? How long has it been going on?'

Dmitry told him.

‘Why have you not come to me before?'

‘I went to the UN security people. They didn't seem so concerned. Then I thought perhaps I was being paranoid.'

‘Tell me anything you can about this.'

‘I have written down the numbers of some of the cars they are using. Let me see…' he searched in his wallet and produced a crumpled piece of paper which he handed to Vedyensky. ‘The men seem to be Austrian, I guess they are from a private intelligence agency.'

‘Hired by the Brazilian military, you think?'

‘Perhaps. Or by Richter. But I wondered what else is going on… I thought perhaps my phone is tapped, the office could be bugged.'

‘Almost certainly, tapping the phone is easy. That is the first thing they would do. We'll have someone from the Embassy round to do an electronic sweep, see what they come up with. We'd better do your apartment as well. This may be a little complicated if they are watching your apartment. How many flats are there in the building?'

‘Three.'

‘Only three. That is not so easy. Do people come and go a lot?'

‘No.'

‘Well, we could be the gas men… television repairs… no, this is a little too obvious. You had better have a little party this evening. You have invited a friend to stay. You will have to be there. They will carry out a silent search. Do you understand me? It is very important that we don't alert the listeners to what is going on. This is for your own safety, you understand? If we find any listening devices we will leave them in place so as not to alert them…'

Dmitry's heart sank. Vedyensky was beginning to take all this with an alarming degree of seriousness.

‘They will come this evening. Invite them in, you are expecting them, old friends, huh? Talk about anything you like. Make it sound natural, all right?' Vedyensky had moved on now; he was deep in thought. ‘What I want to know is, how have they got on to you?'

‘I telephoned Eduardo Cruz. I realised at once it was a mistake. If he's been in on this, he could have tipped someone off that I was uneasy about it.'

‘Of course, you must be very worried. I'll see to this at once. We'll arrange for you to be, er, looked after. You live alone in your flat, don't you?

‘Yes.'

‘Got a spare room?'

‘Yes.'

‘All right, I'll organise something at once.'

‘What will you do? Give me a bodyguard? Shadow my shadowers?'

Vedyensky grinned. ‘Something like that. Don't worry, they'll be very discreet.'

Dmitry hesitated, and then he said, ‘In that case, there is something else you should know. I've been seeing Haynes's wife.'

Vedyensky looked at him as if in deep astonishment. He said nothing, waiting for Dmitry to go on; but Dmitry volunteered nothing further, staring intently at a map of Vienna on the wall.

Suddenly Vedyensky roared with laughter. He said, ‘My God, you have an unexpected talent for this. Someone has missed out on an opportunity here. This was your own idea?'

‘No… yes… it was not like that…'

‘Well? Has she told you anything of interest?'

Dmitry wished that he had never mentioned it. He tried to sound casual, but without success. ‘No, not really. I don't think she knows anything.'

‘When you said it might have been Cruz that alerted them to you, how do you know it wasn't through her?'

Dmitry had known this was coming. He supposed these people's minds must still run on in the old patterns – honey traps, blackmail… ‘That has occurred to me of course, in my most paranoid moments. But I can't believe it. No, it's ridiculous. In any case, I've told her nothing.'