Debut for a Spy by Harry Currie Page B

“I am fair. Now I know what are rain checks, I give you one of these. You must choose when and where you claim it.”
    “ Are there any limitations?”
    “ I don't make any,” she replied softly. “You have an interesting idea, perhaps?”
    “ As they say in the music business, let's play it by ear.”
    “ I don't know this 'play it by ear.' What does it mean?”
    “ It means, let's improvise – make it up as we go along.”
    It was her turn to laugh. “I think I am good at that, yes?”
    “ I think you are very good at that, yes.”
    Marijke took my arm, and we headed out into the sunlight.
    The beautiful day had just become a wonderful day.

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Near Richmond , England – the same day
     
    “Do you know where is the embassy, David?”
    “ Kensington Palace Gardens off Kensington High Street. But I've never been on the street itself, so I don't know exactly.”
    “ When we come to the security post I get us in. This doesn't become a problem. I thank you for driving me. I hope I don't take you away from something you prefer to do.”
    I smiled broadly. “Are you kidding?”
    Then we lapsed into an expectant silence. It was almost as though we were strangers. Of course, that was the problem – we were strangers, and being alone without the security of social formality put us on our guard with each other. The ice didn't start to break until we were crossing the Thames close to Mortlake and began heading toward Hammersmith. I thought I'd better start it off.
    “How come someone from the Netherlands is working for the Soviets? I thought they would employ only their own people in a foreign posting like this.”
    “ You are right, David, and the answer is simple. I am not born in the Netherlands – I am born in the Soviet Union, and I am a Soviet citizen.”
    “ Oh!” I blurted, sounding more startled than I wanted to. I hadn't anticipated her reply.
    “ This bothers you, David?”
    “ No, not at all, but it wasn't the answer I expected. Is your father from Holland?”
    “ Yes, but he is in Russia since 1937. He meets my mother in Moscow, and they are married in 1939. I am born a year later.”
    “ But your accent isn't completely Russian – I can hear traces of Dutch in there. Did you attend special classes to learn to speak it, or was it just from listening to your father?”
    “ Neither. When the war is over we live in Holland from 1947 until 1957. Then we go back to Moscow, and I attend university there. Have I such a strange accent when I speak English? Is it so terrible to hear?”
    I laughed. “No, of course not. It's just that some words have a Russian sound and some a Dutch sound. You have a lovely blend of both accents. I hope you didn't think I was making fun of you.”
    “ No – I don't think that.”
    She smiled at me, and briefly rested her hand on my arm.
    I navigated around Hammersmith, and shortly we were in Kensington High Street, passing the nearly-completed Commonwealth Institute, with its huge tent-like copper roof.
    Just after Kensington Church Street, with the medieval-looking St. Mary Abbots Church on the corner, Marijke squeezed my arm.
    “You must turn left very soon, David. You will see iron gates at the end of the street, and I must show my identification to the security guard.”
    I turned left into Palace Green, which became Kensington Palace Gardens as it proceeded north, and stopped at the barrier. A Royal Borough of Kensington security guard, clad in gray top hat and green frock coat, came out of a kiosk, and Marijke leaned across me to show her embassy identification.
    “That's alright, miss, thank you,” he said, stepping back to raise the barrier, and I drove on through.
    Kensington Palace Gardens is often referred to as 'Embassy Row' because most of the Victorian mansions on it have been purchased by various governments for diplomatic use. This has ensured their survival. Very few families would have been able to maintain the houses, leading to