The Midnight Swimmer (27 page)

Angleton peered first at Hollis, then at White, before saying, ‘Have either of you distinguished gentlemen read Sun Tzu?’

Hollis shook his head.
White smiled blandly.

‘Well, you should.’
Angleton now did sound a little drunk.
‘Sun Tzu was a sixth-century BC military strategist.
He once wrote, “Of all the senior officers close to the commander none is more intimate with him than the secret agent of the enemy.
Of all matters
concerning
the security of the State, none is more critical than those relating to secret operations.”’

The embarrassment among the Brits was now palpable.
The accusations of treason in high places were starting to grate.
Even Angleton must have realised that he was making an ass of himself.
His manner became less portentous as he said, ‘Before we close the meeting, I’d like to introduce you to Jennings Galen.’

The name gave Catesby a jolt, but he kept a straight face.
Katya had asked about Galen in Havana.
He looked closely at the
American
for the first time.
Galen beamed back shyly through rimless glasses.
He looked, thought Catesby, like a bank clerk with a secret vice.

‘I’m flying back to Washington tomorrow,’ continued Angleton in a slightly slurred voice, ‘but I’m leaving Jennings behind as my deputy.
He’ll have diplomatic status and be working out of the Chief of Station’s office in the embassy.
Jennings’ role will be to assist you in the investigation, but also to carry out his own enquiries – under, of course, the appropriate international protocols.’

In other words, thought Catesby, Jennings was going to be a spy operating under diplomatic immunity.
He scribbled
surveil?
on his pad.
Bone glanced and gave a slight nod.
Catesby doodled a seagull over the word.

The Americans gathered their papers and were the first to leave.
There were no little clumps of chatterers as is usual after most
meetings
.
Everyone slunk away in silence without even making eye contact.
It was difficult to tell the cats from the pigeons.

Catesby and Bone loitered in the hotel lobby while Dick White asked the doorman to fetch the Humber Hawk from wherever he had parked it.
Out of the corner of his eye Catesby caught sight of the two Americans talking to the two junior MI5 officers, Fox and Ferret, near the lift doors.

‘Don’t look behind you,’ whispered Bone.

Catesby stood still and looked at Bone instead.
He listened to the sounds behind him: lift doors opening, a shuffle of feet followed by a bell pinging – and the velvet wheeze of lift doors closing.

‘Good,’ said Bone, ‘they’ve gone up.’

Meanwhile, White was gesturing them to the car.

‘Nice of you to give us a lift,’ said Bone.

Catesby sat in the back and used the opportunity to look closely at Dick White.
In the service the SIS boss was known simply as C.
He was, thought Catesby, certainly a smooth suave dog.
Someone had once described White as David Niven without the moustache.
It was true.
C was the ultimate Englishman – and, as such, he was the only person who had ever been honoured to head both MI5 and the Secret Intelligence Service.
Hollis must have found White a
difficult
act to follow.
It was obvious that Hollis lacked the cunning and firmness to deal with poisonous and dangerous underlings such as Fox and Ferret.

‘What did you make of all that?’
said White.
The lights of London flickered across his face making him look even more like his cinema familiar.

Bone laughed.
‘Angleton didn’t give us the date of the meeting because he doesn’t know it himself or because the meeting never took place.
There was a lot of bluff going on.’

‘The Americans,’ said White, ‘have done a good job of keeping FEDORA for themselves.
It looks like they deceived us into thinking that BUTTERFLY was the big defector they were bragging about.’

Catesby stared out the car window and tried to subdue the loss and sense of pain the BUTTERFLY operation had caused him.
It was the only time he had taken satisfaction, if not joy, in killing someone.

‘What do you think, William?’
said White.

‘I don’t think they were playing a deception game with
BUTTERFLY
.
I’ve heard that FEDORA was a walk-in joe who turned up completely unexpected at the US Embassy in Stockholm.’

‘From whom did you hear that?’
said White.

‘From my man in Säpo.’

Bone suddenly stiffened.
‘I think Säpo are too fond of playing games.’
Säpo, or
Säkerhetspolisen
, were the Swedish secret police.

‘In any case,’ said Catesby ignoring Bone’s scepticism, ‘walk-in joes usually begin by telling the truth to convince their new masters
of their bona fides.
Once they’ve got that, they start to embellish the truth with exaggeration.
As soon as they see their interrogators have taken the bait, they start slipping in the lies.
They test the water with harmless little porkies at first, but these soon grow into venomous lies that can destroy careers.’
Defectors, Catesby knew from
experience,
were masters at recognising the divisions in a Security Service and setting officers at each others’ throats.
That’s why fake defectors could be lethal.
But Catesby’s spy intuition told him that FEDORA was genuine, a genuine troublemaker with his own agenda of
attention
-seeking mischief.

White turned the Humber on to the roundabout dominated by the Queen Victoria Memorial.
Beneath Victoria, who was seated on her throne, there were three figures at the base of the statue.
Charity faced the palace, the Angel of Justice looked over Green Park, but the Angel of Truth peered directly and sternly towards SIS Headquarters.

‘By the way, William,’ said White over his shoulder, ‘you did a brilliant job at taking Angleton down a peg or two.
There was no one else who could have done it without creating a diplomatic incident.’

The reel to reel tape machine was set up on Bone’s desk.
They had already heard the recording once and now Bone was re-winding it.

‘Does C know about this?’
said Catesby.

‘No, it would put him in an embarrassing position if he did.
So it’s best to spare him.’

‘It could put you in jail if Five found out about this.’
SIS were strictly forbidden to undertake surveillance or any other espionage activity on UK soil.
Bugging Angleton’s hotel room in the
Dorchester
was a blatant violation of SIS’s remit.

‘Don’t be silly.
I would only get disciplined, sacked at worst.’
Bone put on his headphones and gestured for Catesby to do the same.
‘Listen to this bit again.’

It was Angleton speaking.
‘Frankly, the intelligence FEDORA
provided
about OMEGA was a shocking revelation …’

Bone switched off the machine and looked at Catesby.
‘Who is OMEGA?’

‘It’s their codename for the Sov Director of OT.
It’s the technical services and research branch of KGB First Directorate – the invisible ink and exploding cigars boffins.
Let’s hear more of Angleton.’

‘… the emphasis is now on developing poisons that mirror natural
causes of death to use as assassination weapons.
Which isn’t to say that the KGB has given up on shooters and ice picks.
But most
important
is the policy change from the top.
Until recently, the KGB only ordered foreign assassinations on Soviet dissidents and defectors living in exile – like those Ukrainian nationalists they hit in ’59.
Which, by the way, is one of the reasons we know FEDORA is genuine –
otherwise
, he wouldn’t have known about the cyanide gas pistol used.’

Bone halted the tape again.
‘Are you impressed?’

‘Not much.
As you know, Henry, I’m never impressed by
anything
.
Just because intelligence is new doesn’t mean it’s a surprise.
Of course, they’re working on poisons that don’t leave a trace – so are we.
Look at VX.’

‘But it looks like they’re doing a better job.
The problem with VX is that it doesn’t mimic a heart attack or something else.
You’ve still got to furnish a likely cause of death.’

‘Got someone in mind, Henry?’

Bone smiled wanly.
‘Let’s hear more.’
He forwarded the tape.

‘… his KGB codename is WAXWING.
He developed close friendships with Molotov and Mikoyan during frequent visits to the Soviet Union when he was a cabinet minister.
FEDORA managed to bring with him transcripts of some of his more revealing private conversations with the two.
Have a look.’
There was the sound of papers shuffling.

Ferret’s voice came in.
‘We’ve had our own file on him since 1945.
Do you know he once played a game of cricket on the banks of the Moskva River?
When he was batting the KGB man at square leg dropped a catch that would have had him out for a duck.
We now know why.’
Sound of laughter.

‘Or maybe,’ said Catesby, ‘the KGB bloke was a rotten fielder.
He was probably drunk and it’s not exactly their national sport.
This is the sort of evidence we used to use to burn witches.’

The tape continued with Angleton’s voice:
‘… we are very
concerned
, especially in light of the FEDORA debriefings, about this particular politician.
As I am sure you must be as well?’
Sounds of assent.
‘In fact, FEDORA has given us proof that WAXWING is a Soviet agent.’

‘But not,’
it was Fox’s voice,
‘but not proof that could be presented in court without compromising intelligence operations?’

Angleton laughing.
‘That’s always the case, isn’t it?
Which is why we often have to use other means …’

Catesby thumped the table.
‘You see what this unspeakable filth is trying to do, don’t you?’

‘Shh, listen.’

‘… we should take FEDORA’s warnings seriously that the KGB is willing and capable of assassinating Western political leaders in order to replace them with their own agents.’

Ferret came in again.
‘So you’re saying that WAXWING may have visited East Germany last year to get his orders straight from the Kremlin leadership?’

‘We don’t know,’
said Angleton,
‘I’m not even sure it was WAXWING himself.
It could have been one of his secret cabal – it could have been a deputy.
But certainly someone of high rank.
And I’m not sure it had anything to do with the running of a future
pro-Soviet
government.
I think the meeting was about something much more serious and immediate.’

‘Why,’
said Fox,
‘haven’t you passed on this information to Hollis?’

‘I think you know the reason why?’

Bone stopped the tape.
‘What do you think?’

‘I don’t know – I’m not his doctor.’

‘Angleton isn’t as mad as you think.
He’s playing to an audience who have more malice than brains.’

‘He’s also playing on our pro-Yank anti-Yank divide.’
Catesby knew that millions of his fellow Britons adored America.
It was an admiration that also reached deep into the Security Services.
The pro-Americans were the ones who feared that Britain had become too ‘socialist’ – and that something needed to be done to stop the rot.
How far would they go?

Bone had gone mysteriously silent – as if mentally ticking off a list of names.

‘In any case,’ said Catesby, ‘Angleton has always been a master at getting ourselves and Five at each other’s throats – and now he’s trying to get Five to tear itself apart too.’