innocuous situation to have in life; one could hardly imagine anything more bourgeois, safe and comfortable, than a Liege linen-draper’s wife; and it did not seem to match at all the image of the dancer from the Poids de l’Or. But sisters were often different.
‘And Nina Lydoevna’s gone home,’ added Morrison gloomily. 'She left London Airport this morning for Moscow.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Ever Since Cecil Rhodes
Nothing seemed to go right. They were plagued by irrelevances. None of Morrison’s lines of enquiry produced anything. Somewhere or other there must be information they needed but they were unable to find out anything of any significance.
Morrison and Holmes had a long session with Lamb on the day following Nina Lydoevna’s deportation. Lamb had been at the airport to see her off. Holmes suspected he had gone down to the airport deliberately in order to offend Scott Elliot who would also be there.
‘I saw Tirov,’ said Lamb. ‘I bet he knows more than he says.’ That was a typical Lamb understatement. Tirov was head of the Soviet intelligence service in London, the senior air attaché at the Soviet Embassy, and reputedly the most efficient Soviet agent in western Europe. He had been at the airport to see Nina Lydoevna on to the plane.
‘Must have been a party,’ murmured Morrison but Lamb would not be drawn. The deportation of diplomatic staff always seemed to him a slightly foolish business, used mainly for reprisals, making difficulties, maintaining privileges; he had no time for diplomatic conventions. ‘Silly,’ said Lamb. ‘Just plain silly.’
They got down to the business of discussing their next move. They were all, if they had been frank, somewhat chastened. Morrison attempted to be optimistic but the reasons for optimism were slim. The trouble was that real progress so far on all the main issues — why Shepherd had come back, what he had told the Russians, what had he betrayed? — was nil. There was another trouble. There were far too many lines of possible enquiry open, far too many potential time-wasters which seemed to promise something, or demand investigation, which could not be ignored, and yet would probably lead nowhere in the end, only to some darkly interesting but unprofitable blind alley. It was easy to get side-tracked on a case, to waste precious resources and manpower for hours and even days and accumulate a vast amount of useless information which was impressive only on paper.
There were further complications: red herrings provided by chance or by well-meaning suggestions. Holmes had to spend nearly an entire morning discussing a theory put forward by Pendlebury that an ancillary use of LSD was for indoctrination. Pendlebury’s theory was that in Africa there were many governments uneasily poised on a pyramid of large and restive populations and that to keep their people quiet and happy one of the easiest methods would be to use a mild hallucinogen in the water supply. It would give a people living under intolerable social conditions a permanent mild sense of euphoria and well-being. ‘If they receive indoctrinated news,’ said Pendlebury, ‘there’s no reason why they should not receive indoctrinated water.’
‘Fascinating,’ said Holmes. He spent a long time proving the impracticability of the idea in the present stage of piped African water supplies. ‘Even so,’ he said to Morrison later, ‘the situation in Africa is odd,’ he told Morrison and Lamb the result of some of his researches. Many people in Africa seemed to be waiting for something to happen, something big, something that had never happened before, a new movement. There were whispers of a black messiah, a new leader who would not be the leader of one people but of all Africans. ‘This is not a new feeling in Africa,’ said Holmes. ‘But this time everyone believes there’s something tangible behind it; and that’s the difference.’
‘I wish to God,’ said Lamb, ‘we knew
‘And Nina Lydoevna’s gone home,’ added Morrison gloomily. 'She left London Airport this morning for Moscow.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Ever Since Cecil Rhodes
Nothing seemed to go right. They were plagued by irrelevances. None of Morrison’s lines of enquiry produced anything. Somewhere or other there must be information they needed but they were unable to find out anything of any significance.
Morrison and Holmes had a long session with Lamb on the day following Nina Lydoevna’s deportation. Lamb had been at the airport to see her off. Holmes suspected he had gone down to the airport deliberately in order to offend Scott Elliot who would also be there.
‘I saw Tirov,’ said Lamb. ‘I bet he knows more than he says.’ That was a typical Lamb understatement. Tirov was head of the Soviet intelligence service in London, the senior air attaché at the Soviet Embassy, and reputedly the most efficient Soviet agent in western Europe. He had been at the airport to see Nina Lydoevna on to the plane.
‘Must have been a party,’ murmured Morrison but Lamb would not be drawn. The deportation of diplomatic staff always seemed to him a slightly foolish business, used mainly for reprisals, making difficulties, maintaining privileges; he had no time for diplomatic conventions. ‘Silly,’ said Lamb. ‘Just plain silly.’
They got down to the business of discussing their next move. They were all, if they had been frank, somewhat chastened. Morrison attempted to be optimistic but the reasons for optimism were slim. The trouble was that real progress so far on all the main issues — why Shepherd had come back, what he had told the Russians, what had he betrayed? — was nil. There was another trouble. There were far too many lines of possible enquiry open, far too many potential time-wasters which seemed to promise something, or demand investigation, which could not be ignored, and yet would probably lead nowhere in the end, only to some darkly interesting but unprofitable blind alley. It was easy to get side-tracked on a case, to waste precious resources and manpower for hours and even days and accumulate a vast amount of useless information which was impressive only on paper.
There were further complications: red herrings provided by chance or by well-meaning suggestions. Holmes had to spend nearly an entire morning discussing a theory put forward by Pendlebury that an ancillary use of LSD was for indoctrination. Pendlebury’s theory was that in Africa there were many governments uneasily poised on a pyramid of large and restive populations and that to keep their people quiet and happy one of the easiest methods would be to use a mild hallucinogen in the water supply. It would give a people living under intolerable social conditions a permanent mild sense of euphoria and well-being. ‘If they receive indoctrinated news,’ said Pendlebury, ‘there’s no reason why they should not receive indoctrinated water.’
‘Fascinating,’ said Holmes. He spent a long time proving the impracticability of the idea in the present stage of piped African water supplies. ‘Even so,’ he said to Morrison later, ‘the situation in Africa is odd,’ he told Morrison and Lamb the result of some of his researches. Many people in Africa seemed to be waiting for something to happen, something big, something that had never happened before, a new movement. There were whispers of a black messiah, a new leader who would not be the leader of one people but of all Africans. ‘This is not a new feeling in Africa,’ said Holmes. ‘But this time everyone believes there’s something tangible behind it; and that’s the difference.’
‘I wish to God,’ said Lamb, ‘we knew
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