The Avenue of the Dead (27 page)

‘Davina Graham.' It pleased Jeremy to see the shock it gave them. ‘I take a personal interest in all UK personnel and visitors to Washington. I get all the lists. The minute I saw her name I knew there was a security problem. Our people had been keeping a watch on Fleming's wife for some time. She'd been sleeping around with some pretty important people in the early days, she was known to drink too much and the marriage was shaky. We had her under routine surveillance and when Davina started seeing her, I alerted the director. I pulled her in and questioned her myself. I wanted to know what our loyal allies in the SIS were cooking up behind our backs.'

‘And what did she tell you?'

‘Nothing,' Spencer-Barr said flatly. ‘She denied talking about Fleming; I knew she was lying but it didn't seem worth pressing any further. I suggested she'd be better off going back to England.' He lit a cigarette, and flicked ash upon the floor deliberately. He remembered how much Grant hated smoking.

‘It would seem that she and Fleming quarrelled, if what you say is true. He killed her – she was brutally strangled, I'm told. He rang Davina and her colleague to cover himself, pretending she hadn't returned. That is the theory, isn't it?' Grant ignored the cigarette and the dropped ash.

‘Suggest another one,' said Spencer-Barr. ‘I'm listening.'

The telephone rang and Kidson picked it up. ‘Yes, of course, send her up. My wife? Well, yes, right away.' He said to Humphrey Grant, ‘Davina and Lomax are on their way up. I'm afraid Charlie's with them – they're insisting on bringing her in to see us.'

‘I hope,' Grant said in a tone like a cold tap dripping, ‘that it isn't a social visit.'

Ten minutes later there was silence in the room. Humphrey Grant was standing leaning against the panelled wall. Kidson, Lomax and Charlie were sitting down, Spencer-Barr was leaning on the back of one of the embassy Chippendale chairs, supporting his weight on his wrists, his legs braced as if he was going to spring. They were staring at Davina. In the middle of the polished table, one of Elizabeth Fleming's gold evening shoes gleamed in the sunlight. Kidson was the first to speak.

‘We'll never prove it,' he said. ‘That's where Moscow's been so diabolically clever. She's dead and by the time we get any kind of evidence together, the scandal will have brought the roof down on the lot of us.'

‘I don't believe it,' Spencer-Barr said. ‘It's fantasy. I'm sure Mrs Kidson thinks she's right, but it would take more than a difference in shoes to convince me.'

‘I knew her,' Charlie said firmly. ‘You didn't.'

‘You don't have to believe it,' Davina said. ‘You've made such a bloody mess of things already, I'd rather you kept out of it!' She turned to Grant. ‘The chief said this was a Moscow Centre operation. He said it from the start and he was right. They had it all set up for us, and for the Agency too. Edward Fleming told the truth – they did try to blackmail him because they'd found out he'd been stealing his wife's money to finance his business.' She heard Spencer-Barr mutter ‘Jesus', but she ignored him. ‘He wouldn't give in to them. In the meantime he went to Mexico, where you can be sure they had him watched, and fell in love with Elizabeth Carlton. That's when the idea came to Borisov; Kaledin had retired and he was in the top job by then. That's where his style shows – he likes to do things his own way. He has changed other people's plans before, in Egypt and in Canada. He did the same with the plan to recruit Edward Fleming. Colin gave you his report on the fire that killed Raffaella Fleming and the two Mexicans. It was professional arson, using highly sophisticated chemical agents. That cleared the way for Fleming's romance. And between the time he left and the time what appeared to be the same woman joined him in New York and married him, they made the switch. Elizabeth Fleming was a Russian look-alike. Everything she did and said was programmed to throw suspicion on Fleming, involve London, and appear to expose him as a Soviet spy. They didn't mind me coming to investigate – in fact, that's what they wanted. And we swallowed the lot! They must have faked up that diary. And then they killed the woman to stop any chance of her being discovered when the scandal exploded. The neatest way to do it was to stage a murder. That meant the police, the civil authorities. There was no chance of an intelligence cover-up either by our Service or by yours, Spencer-Barr.'

‘If you're right,' Jeremy spoke suddenly, ‘they won't leave the exposure of the security aspect to chance. There are people in the media who would jump at the first hint of irregularity in this administration. Somebody like that will be set on the trail. We all know how effective these newspaper bloodhounds can be. We've got to think of something – I'd better contact the director right away. He'll want a meeting.'

‘We can fly to Langley,' Grant said. ‘But how much longer can you keep this quiet?'

Jeremy gestured impatiently. ‘Let me talk to the director. Our men are on duty at the house and the morgue; nothing will leak out from there. But what about Fleming? How long can he play sick without someone beginning to ask questions? And there's that damned coloured woman who works there.'

‘She'll be more discreet than some people I can think of,' Davina interrupted.

‘One moment,' Grant's voice broke in upon the threatened argument. ‘Fleming identified the body. There's no point in getting him to look at it again. But I think we should ask for a positive identification of the woman calling herself Elizabeth Fleming, whoever she was. Can you arrange that, Spencer-Barr – before we leave for Langley? Fingerprints, of course. They'll match the ones in the house.' He cleared his throat slightly. His little grey eyes flickered towards the gold shoe in its little pool of sunlight.

‘And check the size of her feet,' he added.

‘Why? Can I ask that question?'

‘Because in my experience the KGB don't murder their agents unless they've betrayed them. If this is a new pattern of behaviour, I'd like to know about it. I suggest we meet here in two hours. After I've had some lunch. Goodbye, Mrs Kidson. I hope you enjoy your stay in Washington.'

‘Thank you,' Charlie murmured.

John Kidson came over to her and whispered, ‘I'm sorry, sweetheart, you'll have to go with Davina. I can't leave the SGI to himself.'

‘Don't worry,' she whispered back. ‘I've never had such an exciting morning in my life.'

They went to a downtown drugstore and tucked themselves away in a cubicle. Lomax bought them sandwiches and coffee and Charlie asked for salad. There had been a sudden lull in the noise of customers talking and eating when she walked in. Lomax leaned over and took Davina's hand. ‘My God,' he said, ‘but you're a clever lassie!'

‘I didn't see it,' she answered impatiently. ‘If it wasn't for Charlie noticing the shoe sizes I never would have seen it! Now it's too damned late to be any use!' She pushed the food aside. ‘It fits, the more you think of it,' she said. ‘Fleming married, her as soon as he could get a licence in New York. All he saw was someone who
looked
like Elizabeth, and she certainly did. And if she managed to fool him, it's not surprising she fooled me. He hadn't slept with her, so there was nothing to alert him there. Besides, it's so fantastic, so incredible, that whether she was different in some ways or not, he wouldn't have guessed the real reason. Nobody would. Who was she? What sort of a woman was she? I know she was English, she couldn't have faked that accent. But now I think of it – it was a bit funny. Some of the expressions she used. American slang in that Mayfair voice. Smart-ass, that's what she called me once. It sounded so incongruous, coming from her. But all I could see was the face, so I accepted it. That's the beauty of what Borisov did. Oh God, if only I'd thought it through … I felt it in Mexico at Teotihuacan. Something didn't add up. It was nagging at me, all the discrepancies, the things she did and said that were completely out of character with the girl I knew. I made excuses – I said it was drink that changed her …'

‘I said that,' Lomax interrupted. ‘I said it, not you. Stop blaming yourself. For God's sake, woman, don't you realize that you were the only one who
did
see through it in the end? Thanks to you they'll try and do something about it!'

‘There's nothing they can do, and they know it,' Davina answered. ‘It's Borisov's finger on the button. All he has to do is press it. They can't muzzle the police and the media forever; they can't stop people talking in Washington. Fleming is too important to lie low – he's got to show himself and I don't believe he's got the nerve to carry this through without cracking wide open. The best thing to do is lay the whole thing out in front of the President himself. At least our Service won't be party to any cover-up that could embarrass him.'

She remembered her sister sitting with them and said, ‘I'm sorry, Charlie, this must be a lot of double Dutch to you.'

‘Don't be silly,' Charlie said. ‘I'm fascinated. I've heard snippets from John about the work you both do, but I'd no idea it was so exciting. What did he mean, they never murder their agents?'

‘They never did,' Davina explained. ‘That's what he meant. People who worked for the KGB had a guarantee that if they were caught, Moscow would do everything possible to get them out or exchanged. Remember Blake, Lonsdale, and that rotten trio – Burgess, Philby and Maclean? We connived at it in those days; you wouldn't find James White letting them slip away to their reward in Russia. There's a new KGB man in the job now, and he may set a new style altogether. They needed a dead Mrs Fleming to bring the operation to its climax, and she was it. It's just a precaution to check the fingerprints and the shoes. Humphrey likes to tie everything up into neat little parcels with proper labels on them. One Soviet agent, dead. We'll make use of it, too.'

‘How?' Charlie asked.

‘By making certain the word gets out that the KGB doesn't protect its people any longer.'

‘One thing bothers me,' Lomax said. ‘I didn't like to ask back there with all the experts. Why would Moscow employ a woman who was a drunk? That's the kiss of death to an agent. In our set-up the minute a man went on the bottle he was written off. Sent back to the nearest desk.'

‘That's a good question,' Davina nodded. ‘She could have blown it at any minute. But there wasn't much Borisov could do about it if she began drinking heavily, because she
was
the operation. Without her, all they had was Edward Fleming, who had refused to be blackmailed. I should think our friend in the Kremlin had some sleepless nights over the past year. He must be crowing now. Damn him.' She looked at her watch. ‘It's time to get back. Charlie, I don't know whether we'll go to Langley or what will happen. I'll ring you, will you be at the hotel?'

‘I'll go and wander round the shops,' Charlie said. ‘I'll be back about four, I expect. Anyway, leave a message. And don't worry about me, I can amuse myself.'

‘The answer to your telex has come in, Comrade General,' Natalia said. She used his proper title during working hours. There was no familiarity between them in the office. Now that they were lovers, Borisov treated her with extra formality in front of others. She played her part so well that she cultivated a younger officer on the staff and went out with him regularly. She was perfect in Borisov's opinion – a perfect secretary, discreet and respectful in public, passionate and loving in their private hours. And with this subtle intuition that he used to clarify his own ideas.

‘Thank you.' Borisov took it from her, and placed it in his ‘Urgent' tray.

Everything had gone according to plan. The dead woman's body was in place, there had been an attempt to seize the diary, which had failed, but even that had worked to his advantage. His agent in New York, one of the subtlest disseminators of misinformation in the American media, had already contacted the chosen journalist and primed him with hints of a massive scandal involving a top man in the administration.

Borisov picked up the decoded telex. KGB surveillance on the Fleming household indicated security activity from Thursday afternoon, soon after Fleming returned early from his office. London's representative John Kidson had joined him there. CIA security men had taken up positions in the house and its environment, and the Russian surveillance team had been forced to withdraw outside the area. Borisov smiled. The body had been found. He could imagine the panic among his adversaries. There had been no confirmation from the despicable Jackdaw, Neil Browning, though the British Embassy would know of its discovery even before the CIA. But their agent Bruckner had not heard anything from him. Borisov hesitated. He wanted to send the journalist speeding down to Washington like the angel with a flaming sword. But he had to be certain that the timing was exactly right. He buzzed for his secretary. Natalia came in and he said, ‘I want to send another telex.' She sat down and wrote as he dictated. ‘“Imperative Jackdaw be contacted and final phase of Plumed Serpent be confirmed, with utmost urgency. Report immediately information received.” And go to the apartment this evening. Wait for me.'

She paused by the door and softly, ‘I'll be there.'

‘There are the reports,' Jeremy Spencer-Barr said. ‘There's not a fingerprint in the house that matches the dead woman's and she has a size seven foot.'

‘I see,' Humphrey Grant said. ‘I think we all see, don't we, gentlemen – Davina?' He didn't wait for the silent group to answer him. He faced them like a schoolmaster, his hands behind his back, his skull of a head thrust forward. ‘Borisov didn't murder his agent. The unfortunate Elizabeth Carlton was kept in readiness for this moment, and then murdered while her substitute escaped. I think we have a man in Moscow who is just as merciless as his predecessor but a good deal cleverer. And what are the weapons at our disposal? Sixty pairs of women's shoes that don't fit. I think we had better be on our way to Langley, Spencer-Barr, and see if your director can think of a solution. Any suggestions?'