The Spy Who Swapped Shoes, page 5
part #1 of Stephen Fletcher Series
‘You were right to stand up when we entered, Comrade Timovitch. You should have done so also, Comrade Mikolyn,’ Smith said.
The names had not been missed by Fletcher. Unwittingly, Smith had confirmed Fletcher’s suspicions about the fair haired man. He had supplied him with the one piece of information which could have proved his downfall! Fletcher felt more relaxed.
‘Now, Comrade Sklevosky,’ Smith carried on with his instructing, ‘if you were the hostess, you would get the drinks. I think Comrade Nickovitch and I would like a gin and tonic.’
‘Yes, Comrade Smith,’ Tonya said stiffly. She stood up and walked over to a cocktail cabinet.
Fletcher glanced casually around the room. It was a large lounge and as he had now come to expect, typically British in its decoration and furnishings. Again the ceiling beams and parquet floor with loose rugs and a flower covered three piece suite and occasional chairs.
Tonya handed Smith and Fletcher their drinks.
Fletcher sipped his and purposely twisted his mouth as he pretended not to like the taste.
‘You will have to get used to it,’ Smith said. ‘It is a popular drink at social functions.’ He turned to the others who also had drinks in their hands.
‘Tell me what you have been doing this morning, Comrade Timovitch,’ he said.
Timovitch placed his drink on the table. ‘First I read the newspapers, Comrade Smith, then I walked down to the English village and spent the morning studying the Labour Exchange and Post Office with Comrade Milne.’
Fletched noticed a cockney slant to Timovitch’s accent — was this intentional? he wondered and who was Comrade Milne?
‘And you, Comrade Mikolyn?’ Smith asked.
Mikolyn spoke for the first time. His accent was not English and Fletcher immediately recognised the Australian drawl.
‘Like Comrade Timovitch,’ he said, ‘I studied the newspapers and then went to the English village where I spent the morning in the bank and the public house.’
Smith turned to Tonya.
‘What have you been doing, Comrade?’ he asked.
‘I have been with your wife all morning,’ she replied. Her English was perfect, without trace of accent. ‘We inspected the house, gave the cook and maid their instructions and then went down to the English village to shop.’
Fletcher listened attentively. It was obvious that they had a model English village somewhere, probably in the hangar. This didn’t surprise him, but the presence of another Englishman made him curious.
He was surprised to see Smith turn to him.
‘Well, Comrade Nickovitch,’ Smith said, his eyes flashing, ‘you have noticed their changes in clothes, you have heard them all speak in English. How would you place them if you came across them in England?’
Fletcher purposely waited before replying. He had to give a good appreciation without being too clever.
‘Comrade Timovitch,’ he said slowly picking his words carefully, ‘spoke with a slight cockney accent. He is dressed in a rather cheap type of western suit. I should put him as one of the working-class, probably upper working-class — a post office worker — railway clerk — that type.’
‘Good,’ Smith said, ‘go on.’
Fletcher turned his attention to Tonya. She sat, stone-faced, watching him.
‘Comrade Sklevosky spoke without any trace of accent. Her clothes look fashionable. She could be the wife of a company director, or a doctor, or other professional man. Alternatively, she could be a career woman, herself.’
‘Very good, very good,’ Smith said eagerly.
‘Comrade Mikolyn puzzles me,’ Fletcher said. Mikolyn half smiled as if he were pleased at Fletcher’s failure to place him. ‘His accent is not one I can readily recognise. He has western style clothes, but they do not look English.’ He shrugged. ‘I am afraid I do not know.’
‘You are correct in thinking he is not English,’ Smith said. ‘Tell Comrade Nickovitch where you come from.’
‘Sydney, Australia,’ Mikolyn drawled.
‘Ah!’ Fletcher said. ‘Now I understand.’
‘You did very well. Timovitch and Sklevosky are more or less what you thought. They are…’ Smith stopped speaking. His wife had entered the room. ‘Lunch ready, my dear?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Charles. Will you all come through to the dining room.’ She smiled at them. They stood up and walked to the door.
In the dining room they sat at a long table with the Smiths at the heads, directing operations in their friendly, deluding manner. Fletcher sat opposite Tonya, but the only time any of the four students spoke was when asked a question.
The layout of the table was explained by Smith and the various etiquettes of having a meal. Timovitch being working-class and Mikolyn an Australian, were not expected to observe the same standards at the table as Nickovitch and Sklevosky. This was the first indication Fletcher had been given as to his intended role, but he made no comment — he was prepared to wait. The novelty of his surroundings had worn off the moment he had entered the lounge and he was constantly on his guard. He couldn’t afford to display any further knowledge than the rest and he took his lead from them.
The meal was served by a maid, a girl in her early twenties dressed in a simple black dress and white apron. She spoke English, but her skin was darkly tanned. She was the first flaw in the stage design, she was a Balkan, probably Romanian. She wasn’t part of the instructing staff, she was one of the stage hands necessary for the Smiths to act their part. She carried out her duties quickly and effectively and whenever she was in the room conversation stopped.
At the close of the meal, after the coffee had been served, Smith leant back in his chair, his arms on the rests and surveyed his class like a benevolent employer after a staff luncheon. Mrs Smith apparently knew the sign.
‘If you are going to talk business, dear,’ she said, ‘I will go and see to the servants.’
She left the room and the class to her husband.
‘Now that we are all here,’ Smith said, ‘I will explain the identities you are to assume and the course we will adopt.’
Fletcher brought out a packet of cigarettes, but Smith quickly handed him an English branded packet.
‘The first thing you must all do is to forget that you are citizens of the Soviet Union. You must act and think in the roles I am going to give you. At no time, not even in your chalets, will you speak Russian, nor will you address each other as Comrade. Is that understood?’
They all nodded their heads. Smith, whose eyes quickly darted from one to another, continued: ‘Timovitch, you are to be a Mister Henry Jackson, a Londoner by birth and a chauffeur by occupation. You have no family and your wife has recently died. This has considerably distressed you and will explain why you are moving into a boarding house. You have left your last employer and are awaiting for an application you have submitted to become a chauffeur, employed by the Government, to drive one of their official cars.
‘Mikolyn, you are Gary Vincent, an Australian civil engineer. You qualified two years ago and decided to visit the old country. You are single, with an eye for the girls and intent on enjoying yourself. When you arrive in London, you will become employed by a firm of civil engineers. You will mix with the Commonwealth set and establish yourself amongst them.’
Smith turned his attention to Fletcher. ‘Nickovitch, you are to be a Paul Adams, a man of considerable wealth, with a small export and import business. Your business is already established and you merely act as an agent, getting orders from abroad and passing them on to firms in Britain. It is a small concern which you maintain as an interest. Your parents are both dead and have left you a considerable inheritance and you frequently invest on the Stock Exchange. You have recently sold your house in North London and are renting a furnished detached house in Surrey. You have no family, but are married — Sklevosky, you are to be Mrs Jane Adams!’
He paused to see whether his last remark brought any reaction, any sign from Fletcher or Tonya, but Fletcher had also been well trained to show no outward emotion. Although he realised the full implications and dangers, he reflected none of his fears on his face. Similarly, Tonya had indicated no reaction — none of them had. They all sat silently, waiting for Smith to carry on with his briefing.
‘You have been married for seven years, but have no children, although you would welcome a family. Mrs Adams, you help your husband with his business, you act as his secretary.’
Again Smith paused and surveyed the four agents.
‘Jackson is to be the leader of the cell, he alone will give the orders, he alone will have contact with control. Jackson will arrange any meetings and you will obey his orders implicitly. Now that is the framework from which we will start. Each week you will receive more information about your roles until you have a full picture. Today is Tuesday, our next discussion on the subject will be on Friday, that gives you plenty of time to consider the problems. Any questions?’
No one spoke. Fletcher was out on a limb with Tonya. They were to have no contact with control or Moscow. He didn’t like it at all. He was risking his neck impersonating Nickovitch and he was ending up in a London suburb! But, like the rest, he knew better than to question any instructions laid down by Moscow.
‘You will all report here at eight a.m. each morning for breakfast,’ Smith continued. ‘In the mornings you will receive instructions in the English village. After lunch, you will be given lectures by myself or my wife, or Mr Milne. We will also have film shows. In the evenings you will watch television — you will learn a lot from it. Finally, we shall round the evening off with a discussion and questions on your day’s work. It will be a long day, but you have a lot to learn and we have not much time.
‘Now, this afternoon I want to take Adams to the village to get his wardrobe sorted out and meet Milne. Mrs Adams, you will remain with my wife, who has a programme arranged for you. Jackson, your local football team, Chelsea, are playing a match this afternoon. It is on television, you will watch the game and learn all the names of the players. When it is over, you will go to the library in the village and study the progress of your team during the past season.
‘Vincent, you probably have the easier role, as you won’t be expected to know too much about the English scene. I think you had better spend the afternoon in the library, refreshing yourself about Australia. We shall meet here again at six, for our evening viewing.’
Smith sat back in his chair, again the friendly host.
Fletcher admired their thoroughness. English tutors in an English home and an English village equipped with library, bank, etc. Taped English television programmes, probably only a few days old. Nothing had been left to chance.
Arrangements were even being made to receive them in London. An export business, an application for a job — he had to hand it to them. And the agents themselves, he didn’t doubt had been also thoroughly trained. Timovitch, the working-class chauffer could probably drive any make of car he would come across, — he would know the geography of London better than any Londoner himself.
Vincent, the civil engineer — he most likely topped the lists in the Moscow University department of Engineering. He felt uneasy about his own role, export and import was something he knew little about and living with Tonya could prove dangerous. She knew too much about Nickovitch, more than Fletcher knew himself. That was why Moscow had trained her for the role — that was why their paths had crossed again after eight years apart. Moscow had thought of everything, but to Fletcher, she was the big fly in the ointment.
Smith stood up.
‘We meet again at six,’ he said. ‘Adams, I will join you on the veranda in a few moments.’
When Smith appeared on the veranda, Fletcher was surprised to see a Great Dane trailing at his feet. Smith completed the picture of an Englishman taking his dog for a stroll by collecting a walking stick from a stand and like a man showing off his estate, he escorted Fletcher over to the hangar, on the way pointing out the chalet Fletcher was to use and other various buildings.
Inside the hangar was not a model village, as Fletcher had expected, but a full-size replica of a high street of a suburban town. It was a masterpiece of imitation made from plywood and cardboard, except for a few essential fittings. Its effect was most realistic.
Smith’s assistant, Milne, was also not as expected. He was a small man with bushy eyebrows and straggling grey wisps of hair over his bald head. He had a friendly face with a constant benign smile and an almost servile manner. In the days that followed Fletcher saw a lot of Milne and his manner never changed and he was never seen anywhere, other than the hangar.
After the introductions had been made Fletcher was taken to a tailor’s shop where Smith and Milne set about preparing his wardrobe. They also discarded his rough serge suit and re-dressed him in expensive western clothes. Like two artists they discussed and changed his attire until they were satisfied. When they had finished, however, gone was the dowdy Nickovitch and in his place stood, Paul Adams, successful businessman.
When Fletcher eventually left the hangar it was approaching five o’clock. Smith had some business to attend to with Milne and Fletcher strolled back to his chalet deep in thought. The set-up was well organised and long established. How many agents had passed though the school? he wondered and how many were now operating in England? Did London know such a place existed? Did they know about the Smiths and Milne? He was learning a lot, he had to make certain he was still alive at the end of it all, to be able to tell them about it.
He was still preoccupied with his thoughts as he entered his chalet. The chalet, he found, was roomy and pleasantly furnished with fitted carpet, pair of divan beds, side tables, dressing table and wardrobe. It was an improvement on his previous bedroom.
He glanced at the beds, on one of them lay a pink cardigan — Tonya’s cardigan. Puzzled, he walked over to the dressing table and opened a drawer. Inside was a variety of cosmetics. Had Smith made a mistake? Was this Tonya’s room? He turned his attention to the wardrobe and found not only a number of dresses, but also several suits. Instantly he realised their significance. Smith had certainly not made a mistake. This was the room he was to share with Tonya! This was where he was starting his married life!
He lit a cigarette and sat on the bed. He had not expected this. He had been prepared to meet the problem when it was presented, but it had come earlier than he had hoped. Tonya knew so much about Nickovitch, a damned lot more than Fletcher. Somehow he had to make sure the past was dead, buried and never resurrected. But the thought of living as a married man also worried him. He was by nature a lone wolf, a man used to his own company and he preferred it that way. He had been trained to be like this, it was the way of life essential to a man in his profession. Having Tonya constantly around him also meant he could never relax, never let his guard down. He was going to be constantly on stage.
He swore, but realised the futility of dwelling on the problem and got up and inspected the adjoining room to occupy his mind. It was the bathroom, equipped with shower, wash basin and toilet. He noticed a shaving kit on a shelf above the wash basin. As he returned to the bedroom Tonya walked in. They stood looking at each other, but there was no display of surprise on Tonya’s face.
‘Which is yours?’ Fletcher asked, looking at the beds.
‘It is of no consequence,’ she said coolly. She walked over to the dressing table and sat on a stool, studying her face in the mirror.
‘After all these years, it is surprising we should end up so close to each other,’ Fletcher remarked. He wanted to draw her and get established on the right footing.
‘End up?’ Tonya asked puzzled. ‘You make it sound final. This is only the beginning.’
Fletcher cursed, he hadn’t meant it the way she had taken it, but then she didn’t think like him. She was Sklevosky, a Russian.
‘It isn’t really surprising,’ she continued in her cryptic flat tones, ‘after all, we are supposed to know each other very well.’
Supposed — what did she mean? Did she already suspect him?
‘I think we had better understand each other,’ Fletcher said firmly. ‘The past must be forgotten, it is too dangerous and we cannot afford to make any slips. We must not only play our part, but we must think it also. I shall make certain I act my part without fault. I shall be a reasonably attentive husband to you during the day and evenings.’
She turned to face him.
‘So long as you don’t expect the same attention in return during the nights,’ she said icily.
‘Don’t worry,’ Fletcher said evenly, ‘I won’t bother you.’ He crossed over to the bathroom. At the door he hesitated, ‘I am going to have a shower,’ he said.
He stripped off and got under the shower. He had got the message across — the past was to be forgotten. But what did she mean, ‘we are supposed to know each other very well’? Was it just sarcasm, or did she already have doubts?
He had finished his shower and was drying himself when the bathroom door opened and Tonya entered. He looked up at her, annoyed at the intrusion, but he soon forgot his annoyance when he saw her standing there — she was completely naked! He stared at her more in surprise than curiosity. Her figure was evenly proportioned without any surplus fat and her breasts stood out large and firm. She had broad child-bearing hips, but this did not detract from her physical beauty and her cream coloured skin was flawless.
She looked at him defiantly and he could feel her dark eyes appraising his body.
‘So long as we are to live together, we don’t want any modesty,’ she said mockingly. ‘That could also prove dangerous.’
Her tone and warning killed any sexual desires which may have entered his head and as she took her place in the shower he collected his clothes and moved into the bedroom.
Chapter Seven
The evening’s television viewing was followed by a period of discussion and it was well into the night when they all retired. The following morning, the class assembled for breakfast with the Smiths and the pattern of instruction previously laid down was strictly adhered to.
