to Bret and smiled. ‘We haven’t got too much time, Bret.’
‘We need ten years, Director, maybe twelve.’
‘Is that your considered opinion?’
Bret looked at the old man. They both knew what he was thinking. He wanted Fiona Samson in place before he came up for retirement. Forget the modest, self-effacing manner that was his modus operandi, he wanted glory. ‘It is, Sir Henry.’
‘I was hoping for something earlier than that.’
‘Sir Henry, Fiona Samson is nothing more than an agent in place as far as Moscow is concerned. She has never done anything. She has never delivered.’
‘What do you have in mind?’
‘She should be posted to Berlin. I want them to have a closer look at her.’
‘That would speed things up. They would start thinking of getting her over there quickly.’
‘No, they want her in London where the big stuff is hidden.’ Bret got out his handkerchief and self-consciously blew his nose, making as little noise as possible. ‘Forgive me, Sir Henry. I think the newly cut grass …’
‘Then why Berlin?’
‘She will have to do something for them.’
The D-G looked at him and pulled a face. He didn’t like these stunts which required that the KGB were given things. They were always given good things, convincing things, and that meant things that the Department should keep to itself. ‘What?’
‘I haven’t got as far as that, Director, but we’ll have to do it, and do it before the end of the year.’
‘Would you acquaint me with a little of your thinking? Wait one moment, this fellow is their fast bowler.’
Bret waited. It was a hot day: the grass was bright green and the boys in their cricket clothes made it the sort of English spectacle that under other circumstances Bret might have relished. The ball came very fast but bounced and went wide. Bret said, ‘Mrs Samson goes to Berlin. During her time there she gives them something substantial …’ Bret paused while the D-G winced at the thought, ‘… so that we have a big inquiry from which she emerges safe. Preferably with their help.’
‘You mean they arrange that one of their agents takes the blame?’
‘Well, yes. That, of course, would be ideal,’ said Bret.
The D-G was still watching the match. ‘I like it,’ he said without turning round.
Bret smiled grimly. It was an uphill struggle, but that was something of an accolade coming from Sir Henry Clevemore, although it could of course have been prompted by some cricketing accomplishment that Bret had failed to understand. He said, ‘Mrs Samson comes back here to London and they tell her to keep still and quiet.’
‘That’s one year,’ the D-G reminded him.
Bret said, ‘Look, sir. We can deliver Mrs Samson to them right away, of course we can. She’s like a box of nuts and bolts: an all-purpose agent they can use anywhere. But that’s not good enough.’
‘No,’ said the D-G, watching the cricketers and wondering what was coming.
‘We must take this woman and clear her mind of everything she knows.’
‘Classified material?’
‘I’m already making sure she sees nothing that would affect the Department.’
‘How did she take that?’
‘We have to make our plans as if she will be interrogated … interrogated in the cellars at Normannenstrasse.’ In the silence that followed a big fly buzzed angrily against the window glass.
‘It’s a nasty thought.’
‘The stakes are high, Sir Henry. But we’re playing to win.’ He looked around the hut. It was insufferably hot and the air was perfumed with linseed oil and weed-killers for the lawn. Bret opened the door to let a little air in.
The D-G looked at Bret and said, ‘A good thunderstorm would clear the air,’ as if this was something he could arrange. Then he added, ‘You’re making me wonder whether a woman is right after all.’
‘It’s too late to change the plan now.’
‘Surely not?’ Even the D-G was feeling the heat. He mopped his brow with a red silk handkerchief that had been protruding from his top pocket.
‘Mrs Samson knows what we intend. If we change to another agent our plan is known to her. I have shown her the figures and the graphs. She knows that the skilled and professional labour force is our target. She knows that we want to bleed their essential people and she knows the sort of opposition groups we intend to support over there.’
‘Wasn’t that a little premature, Bret?’
‘It will all depend upon her once she’s there. She must understand our strategy so well that she can improvise her responses.’
‘I suppose you’re right. I wish it was you explaining it all to the Cabinet Secretary next week. All your charts and mumbo-jumbo … You see Bret, if we don’t persuade him to go along with the fundamental idea … Do you have an operational name yet?’
‘I thought it was better not to ask the Department for an operational name.’
‘No, no, no, of course not. We’ll think of one. Something that suggests the weakening of the economy without prejudicing the security of our operation. Any ideas?’
‘I thought Operation Haemorrhage? Or Operation Bleeder?’
‘Blood; casualties. No. And bleeder is an English expletive. What else?’
‘Leaker?’
‘Vulgarism with connotations of urinating. But Sinker might do.’
‘Sinker then. Yes, of course, Sir Henry.’
‘Oh, my God, this fellow is useless. Left-handed and look at the way he’s holding the bat.’ He turned to Bret. ‘You understand what I mean about persuading him to the basic idea?’
Bret understood exactly. If the Cabinet Secretary didn’t go for the economic target then they’d start having second thoughts about using Bret. Mrs Samson would be provided with a different case officer.
The D-G said, ‘There still remains the problem of the Soviets engaging her for operational service over there. We can’t leave that to chance.’
‘Agent X has to be created from scratch,’ said Bret, having decided that naming Mrs Samson might be creating doubts in the D-G’s mind. ‘I must deliver to them an agent who is so knowledgeable and experienced in one specific field of activity that they will have to put her in the place we want.’
‘You’ve lost me now,’ said the D-G without taking his eyes from the cricket.
‘I shall spend this year studying the Russian links with the East German security police, particularly the KGB-Stasi operational command in Berlin. I’ll come to you with a complete picture of their strengths and weaknesses.’
‘Can you do that?’
‘I spent most of last week reading Operational Briefs. Give me a closer look at the command structure over there, and my analysts could build a detailed picture. It will take time but we’ll get what we need.’
‘Their security is good,’ said the D-G.
‘We will be trying to discover what they need … the things they don’t know. I have good people in my section. They are used to sifting through figures and building a picture of what is going on.’
‘For economics, yes. It’s possible to do that with statistics of banking, exports, imports and credit and so on because you’re dealing with hard facts. But this