communications had broken down and he needed a spare part,” she added desperately, looking increasingly troubled by Liz’s lack of enthusiasm.
“Maybe,” said Liz thoughtfully.
“Whatever it’s about,” said Peggy, “if Ivanov’s going to visit here, don’t we have to follow it up?” She seemed troubled by Liz’s lack of reaction.
“Of course we do,” said Liz. “What else came up?”
“Oh just that the Germans think Rykov, that SVR officer in the Trade Delegation here, is a complete incompetent.”
“Rykov?” exclaimed Liz. “That’s interesting. Just a few minutes ago Wally Woods from A4 came in to tell me he’d seen Rykov meeting someone on Hampstead Heath. I’ve asked him to write a detailed report.” She paused and looked out the window for a moment. “Do you remember, at the meeting Brian was saying that he thought it was odd that the Maples case had been handled by someone as inexperienced as Nysenko? Now we’re being told Rykov’s no good.”
“That’s what Herr Beckendorf said,” interrupted Peggy. “I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.”
“I’m sure he does too,” replied Liz thoughtfully. “Hampstead Heath’s a pretty obvious place to have a covert meeting in broad daylight, isn’t it?” She stopped again and gazed at Peggy. “Maybe all this adds up somehow—but differently from the way it looks. After all, the Russians are professionals. They’ve been at this game for years and they’re in a league the terrorists can’t dream of. Well,” she concluded, standing up and starting to put away her papers, “at least they’re making us think!”
11
W ally Woods of A4 had been proud of his discovery of Rykov, apparently having a covert meeting on Hampstead Heath, but the wind was quite taken out of his sails when Liz told him that the Germans thought Rykov’s tradecraft was pathetic. Now, this Wednesday morning, out with his surveillance team following Rykov, Wally found himself having to agree with the Germans.
Liz had decided that to try to identify Rykov’s contact A4 should follow him exactly two weeks after the meeting that Wally had observed. If Rykov was as incompetent as the Germans judged, he would stick to a predictable meeting pattern and two weeks was a typical interval. On the first occasion nothing had happened. So, a week later, when she found that a couple of A4 teams were unexpectedly available, she decided to have another go. Now one team was staking out the bench on Hampstead Heath, while Wally and his team followed Rykov, code name Chelsea 1, through his morning agenda.
Peggy Kinsolving had been doing some research into Rykov’s activities and had discovered that whatever actual intelligence work he was doing seemed to come second to a voracious appetite for food and drink. All his meetings, and there were many, were in ritzy bars and expensive restaurants. He made no effort to conceal any of this and there was no sign that he either knew or cared that MI5 might be aware of his activities.
So, thought Liz, as she looked in on the A4 Operations Room in the early afternoon, what did that say about the man on the bench? Why had their meeting been so different from the usual pattern? She hoped to find out today.
Reggie Purvis, in charge in the Ops Room, brought Liz up to date. After a long lunch at Kensington Place with a journalist from the
International Herald Tribune
, Rykov was walking slowly up Kensington Church Street, stopping to examine the windows of the antiques shops, with Wally and two A4 colleagues on either side of the road behind and in front of him. Others in cars were nearby. Suddenly, with a crackle of static, Liz heard Wally announce, “Chelsea 1 has hailed a cab. Heading north.” Liz sat down on the worn leather sofa that was provided for visiting case officers to the Operations Room.
On Notting Hill Gate, Maureen Hayes, parked at a meter outside an estate agent’s, put down the
Evening Standard
and turned the
“Maybe,” said Liz thoughtfully.
“Whatever it’s about,” said Peggy, “if Ivanov’s going to visit here, don’t we have to follow it up?” She seemed troubled by Liz’s lack of reaction.
“Of course we do,” said Liz. “What else came up?”
“Oh just that the Germans think Rykov, that SVR officer in the Trade Delegation here, is a complete incompetent.”
“Rykov?” exclaimed Liz. “That’s interesting. Just a few minutes ago Wally Woods from A4 came in to tell me he’d seen Rykov meeting someone on Hampstead Heath. I’ve asked him to write a detailed report.” She paused and looked out the window for a moment. “Do you remember, at the meeting Brian was saying that he thought it was odd that the Maples case had been handled by someone as inexperienced as Nysenko? Now we’re being told Rykov’s no good.”
“That’s what Herr Beckendorf said,” interrupted Peggy. “I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.”
“I’m sure he does too,” replied Liz thoughtfully. “Hampstead Heath’s a pretty obvious place to have a covert meeting in broad daylight, isn’t it?” She stopped again and gazed at Peggy. “Maybe all this adds up somehow—but differently from the way it looks. After all, the Russians are professionals. They’ve been at this game for years and they’re in a league the terrorists can’t dream of. Well,” she concluded, standing up and starting to put away her papers, “at least they’re making us think!”
11
W ally Woods of A4 had been proud of his discovery of Rykov, apparently having a covert meeting on Hampstead Heath, but the wind was quite taken out of his sails when Liz told him that the Germans thought Rykov’s tradecraft was pathetic. Now, this Wednesday morning, out with his surveillance team following Rykov, Wally found himself having to agree with the Germans.
Liz had decided that to try to identify Rykov’s contact A4 should follow him exactly two weeks after the meeting that Wally had observed. If Rykov was as incompetent as the Germans judged, he would stick to a predictable meeting pattern and two weeks was a typical interval. On the first occasion nothing had happened. So, a week later, when she found that a couple of A4 teams were unexpectedly available, she decided to have another go. Now one team was staking out the bench on Hampstead Heath, while Wally and his team followed Rykov, code name Chelsea 1, through his morning agenda.
Peggy Kinsolving had been doing some research into Rykov’s activities and had discovered that whatever actual intelligence work he was doing seemed to come second to a voracious appetite for food and drink. All his meetings, and there were many, were in ritzy bars and expensive restaurants. He made no effort to conceal any of this and there was no sign that he either knew or cared that MI5 might be aware of his activities.
So, thought Liz, as she looked in on the A4 Operations Room in the early afternoon, what did that say about the man on the bench? Why had their meeting been so different from the usual pattern? She hoped to find out today.
Reggie Purvis, in charge in the Ops Room, brought Liz up to date. After a long lunch at Kensington Place with a journalist from the
International Herald Tribune
, Rykov was walking slowly up Kensington Church Street, stopping to examine the windows of the antiques shops, with Wally and two A4 colleagues on either side of the road behind and in front of him. Others in cars were nearby. Suddenly, with a crackle of static, Liz heard Wally announce, “Chelsea 1 has hailed a cab. Heading north.” Liz sat down on the worn leather sofa that was provided for visiting case officers to the Operations Room.
On Notting Hill Gate, Maureen Hayes, parked at a meter outside an estate agent’s, put down the
Evening Standard
and turned the
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