The Company of Saints (35 page)

‘Yes. An ingenious idea, but not new. And not infallible either, I'm glad to say. The principle is quite sound. The activities of all these people were based on one premise: a proportion of men and women are potential killers. Like human bombs, they have a detonating mechanism which a skilled operator can identify and activate. In each case, the assassins were selected because they had the right kind of personality disturbance. There had to be a hate object, you understand, and preferably one associated with extreme guilt, like a parent or a loved one. The aggression could be harnessed, like all energy, and directed against specific targets. With this so-called fail-safe – the programmed urge to kill anyone associated with the symbol. It was a mistake to choose the heart and the arrow, but then,' Borisov shrugged slightly, ‘it was part of what you Christians call the cardinal sin of pride. Do you understand what it means?'

Davina said, ‘I understand what it meant to the village of Lukina in the Ukraine. The heart and the arrow were used for murder. I felt we were getting near the answer before I saw the girl. And we'll have it soon.'

He said, ‘The least I can do is to prove my good faith by giving you the answer. The Company of Saints was a private army of assassins, recruited to bring one man to power. A man as sick as the people who were sent out to kill. He saw himself like your Christian Lucifer, taking the throne from God. He parodied the Christian hierarchy in this organization. He even called the Soviet doctor who perfected the idea St Peter. He will be punished too, when he has finished examining his associates. But, like Lucifer, he fell. He will not be the next ruler of Russia.'

‘Can you tell me his name?' she asked. ‘I'd like to close the file.'

‘Marshal Yemetovsky,' Borisov said. ‘A great hero in the Patriotic War. A loyal servant of Stalin, and lucky enough to outlive him. Perhaps Stalin's instincts were not so crazy as people said at the end. Perhaps he recognized the danger of Yemetovsky. But he died and the Marshal escaped. You want to know the significance of the heart and the arrow?'

Davina nodded. She should have felt excitement, but she didn't. There was one question yet to be asked. She wondered whether he was expecting it. ‘What connected it with Yemetovsky? We couldn't find anything. Not through Commissar Rudkin or his relatives. We were trying to get the names of the Cheka squad.'

Borisov said, ‘That would have taken a long time. Perhaps nobody would know. But it wouldn't have told you anything if you did learn who they were. Yemetovsky's grandparents came from Lukina. They were among the people killed. It was their own son who denounced the village. Yemetovsky's father.'

‘Thank you,' Davina said after a moment. ‘Thank you for the information, General Borisov. But how did he think that killing all those people was going to help him?'

‘He wanted to test the method,' Borisov explained. ‘So his doctor protégé assures me. He wanted to divert attention from the murder of Nikolaev and from my murder, and the death of his rival Mishkoyan, by letting both East and West think they were at the mercy of a terrorist group who struck down indiscriminately. A situation like that allows the Army its chance to take power.'

‘And did they try to kill you?'

‘No. The assassin decided to save himself instead. He hadn't been programmed like the others. I hope that you have accepted my explanation, and my sincerest apologies.'

Davina stood up. ‘I have,' she said. ‘It wouldn't do, would it, General, if we started loosing off at each other?'

‘No, it wouldn't,' he said firmly. ‘That was my concern. I didn't want British reprisals occurring in Moscow.'

‘But it doesn't matter if the underlings get killed?' Her tone was deceptive. It sounded innocent. Too innocent.

He opened a platinum cigarette case. ‘Would you like to try one of these? They are a little strong.'

‘I got used to them once,' she said. ‘My husband always smoked those.'

He took one for himself, held out his lighter for her, and then inhaled deeply. ‘Yes,' he said, ‘so he did. Again, I apologize for what happened to you. But it couldn't be avoided.'

‘I thought for a moment you were going to say you were sorry for what was done to him.'

They faced each other. The truce was over.

‘He was your husband and you loved him,' Borisov said deliberately. ‘Pretend that it was not so. Pretend that he was a traitor to your country. A defector who had gone over to the enemy. Like your brother-in-law, Albatross. You didn't spare him, did you?'

‘I didn't kill him,' Davina said flatly. ‘I didn't send out a man to wire up his car and blow him to bits.'

‘No,' he said. ‘But one day you may have to do what I did. And how will you behave then? I think you must ask yourself the question before you condemn me. We are the same, you and I, and the American at Langley. And the men in Peking and Tokyo. There is not much difference between us. A scruple here perhaps, but underneath, we are a special type of human being. So are the ones who work for us. We are not part of the mass of the people. I don't pretend to be. You should not pretend either. Again, I am glad that we met. You will not kill me and I won't harm you. But that is the best we can offer each other. It doesn't apply to anyone else. You are going straight back to London?'

‘Yes,' Davina said.

He nodded. ‘I would like to see London again. It is a very charming city.'

‘I didn't know you had been there,' Davina remarked. Somehow the meeting had been dominated by him from start to finish. Even at the last moment.

‘I learned to speak English there,' he said. ‘When I was a very junior filing clerk in our Embassy. I'm surprised you didn't know about that! Ah – everyone comes back. Goodbye. I wish you a safe journey.'

They didn't shake hands.

‘Goodbye,' Davina said. He stood back and she walked out of the room first, to meet Lomax and the other two men. The man from ‘C' hurried towards them. ‘I've laid on some lunch,' he said in a rapid whisper. ‘Let's get them out of the way first.'

‘I don't want anything to eat, thank you. I want to get to the airport and away as soon as possible.'

By the evening of the following day, it was announced in Moscow that Igor Borisov had been elected Chairman of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. The title of President was only a formality after that. It was a historic moment. The KGB chief was the new ruler of the Soviet Bloc. The media in the rest of the world poured out accounts of his career, mostly erroneous. Political assessments by people who claimed that he had been a vicious oppressor in his early days and others who called him a moderate with cultural leanings towards the West. His proficiency in Western languages was cited as an example. He would be for peace and disarmament. He would be for an arms race and confrontation. He was cunning and heartless. Consumed by ambition. A fond husband and father in his private life. He had a sense of humour.

Nobody in the West knew anything about him compared with Davina Graham after only half an hour in the Red Cross building in Stockholm. She spent a long day putting down her impressions. They would provide a useful guideline for the future. She didn't know yet who his successor would be at Dzerzhinsky Square.

‘I don't think we should talk about anything until we've had some lunch,' James White announced. She was looking much better, he thought; she had got her colour back and lost that haggard look about the eyes. He had asked her to meet him at the Garrick Club after a personal plea from Downing Street. He had known Davina all her life. He might succeed in influencing her. He was determined to be patient with her. But it was a great effort.

‘I love this place,' he said. ‘I always feel at home here. You don't mind not being taken to some smart restaurant, I hope?'

‘I much prefer this,' Davina answered. ‘It's got a wonderful, peaceful atmosphere. You'd never think it was frequented by the law and the theatre and people like us.' He watched her narrowly. He detected something critical in the last few words – ‘people like us'.

‘It's age,' he declared. ‘In the face of time, human antics die down to a murmur. That's what is so good about a club like this – the extroverts have to lower their voices and the introverts get a chance to speak up. I think that's rather good, don't you?'

‘Very apt,' she smiled and sipped at the glass of sherry beside her. ‘I don't think we should wait to have lunch before we talk. Otherwise we might get indigestion afterwards. You know I'm resigning, don't you?'

‘So I've been told,' he said. ‘I couldn't believe my ears. I still don't. You've decided this at the most critical time for the Service, you realize that? There's a new man at the Kremlin and another new man heading the KGB. Couldn't you at least carry on for another year? Give yourself time to settle down?' He leaned towards her. ‘It's still shock, after what happened. You should have taken proper sick leave. If I'd been in charge, I'd have packed you off somewhere for a month in the sunshine.'

‘I'm sure you would,' Davina said, ‘but it's not the solution. If you asked me here to give me a long lecture, you're only repeating what everyone else has said, from the Foreign Office to the Prime Minister. The words “abdicating your responsibilities” have been very firmly said to me. And duty to my country, of course. I don't think I'll be on this year's Honours List.'

‘Davina,' he interrupted, ‘for God's sake be sensible. If hard things were said, it's not surprising. You're too good at the job to lose without a fight. You ought to take it as a compliment.'

‘I do,' she said seriously. ‘The point is, I
was
good at it. And I enjoyed every moment of it. But not any more. If I try to explain to you, will you listen? I mean, really listen and see if you can understand?'

He sat back. ‘Of course. I might even be able to help in the end.'

Davina lit a cigarette. She drew on it, and said, ‘Have you any idea what it meant to me to find out that Tony was dealing with the KGB behind my back? I was in love with him, and I trusted him. But they got to him and our chance of happiness was wrecked. Now he's caught up in it, and sooner or later it'll go wrong for him. Don't misunderstand, Chief, I don't regret him any more. I don't even want to think about him, because it still sickens me. At least I had my work. Then Colin came back into my life and put the pieces together again. But I knew it wouldn't last either. It hadn't before and I wasn't nearly as dedicated then. On the way up I'd broken with my family because of what happened to my sister. It wasn't till my father died that I could go home. Remember the funeral? I couldn't even cry about him – all I could hide in was my work. We talked about it in the garden. You think I'm full of self-pity, I can see that. And maybe I am. Maybe I've got to be sorry for myself first and then learn how to be sorry for other people all over again. I'm sorry for Humphrey, odd as it sounds. He was so bitter when I got the job. How often did he lunch with you to gripe behind my back? How often did you encourage him to make life difficult? No, please, don't say anything. I don't mind. I knew about it and I didn't care. Which says something about the kind of person I was turning into.

‘I found myself being understanding about Ivan's death. I started to put myself in your place and accept your explanations. That was quite a change of attitude, if you think back a bit.'

‘What you're saying,' James White said, ‘is that you felt the job was asking too much of you. What you've quoted is personal disappointments. But we've all had to suffer them in some form or another. You couldn't run the Service as well as you did and expect anything else. I warned you about that from the start.'

‘I know you did,' Davina answered. ‘But you didn't warn me about the kind of person I'd become as a result. Would you like to know what really tipped the scales?'

‘I would indeed,' he said, and sighed.

Davina said quietly, ‘When I met Borisov, I faced him about having Ivan murdered.'

James White glanced at her. ‘I wondered if you would mention that,' he said.

‘You shouldn't have,' she retorted. ‘And do you know what he said? “One day you may have to do what I did. And what will you do then?”' She stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette. ‘I did ask myself that question, and I knew the answer. One day, I'd justify the murder of a human being and send someone out to kill. And that was the moment when I knew I had to quit. So, that's it. I feel so much happier now that my mind is made up.'

He said, ‘I don't know what to say to you, Davina. Except just once more – don't give it all up in a hurry. What you are frightened of may never happen.'

‘What I am frightened of is happening already,' she said. ‘I am going to stop it before it's too late. Tim Johnson will take over. And he'll be every bit as good. I don't think that particular question will worry him.'

Sir James stood up. ‘Well,' he said, ‘I think we may as well go down to lunch. Do you know, getting you to resign is probably the biggest coup Borisov has ever brought off?' At the table he said, ‘What does Colin say?'

Davina smiled a little. ‘Oh, I don't think he'll mind.'

‘You haven't told him?'

‘Not yet. I wanted to get everything tied up first.'

‘Have you got any plans? What are you going to do with yourself?'

‘I don't know. I'd like to look after my mother for a bit anyway. Charlie's getting married next month and she'll be on her own at Marchwood.… The menu looks good, what shall we order?'

James White knew how to lose gracefully. He suggested smoked salmon and a bottle of champagne. He didn't say what they were celebrating.

‘Isn't the country lovely at this time of year?' Lomax was driving – he had opened the sunshine roof and Davina's hair was flying in the wind. She looked young and happy. He thought, if only this could last. If only we didn't have to go back on Monday morning. ‘If I had a choice,' he said, ‘I'd move out of London.'