Free Spy Sinker by Len Deighton Page A

a century ago for agricultural workers in the Kent fields, and the walls were thin. At first there came the sort of grandiose strumming that pub pianists affect as an overture for their recitals, then the melody resolved into a First World War song: 'The Roses of Picardy'. The relaxed jangle of the piano completed the curious sensation Fiona already had of going back in time, waiting, trapped in the past. This was the long peaceful and promising Edwardian Springtime that everyone thought would never turn cold. There was nothing anywhere in sight to suggest they were not sitting in this parlour sometime at the century's beginning, perhaps 1904, when Europe was still young and innocent, London's buses were horse-drawn, HMS
Dreadnought
unbuilt and Russia's permanent October still to come.
    'They're never late,' she said, looking at her watch and trying to decide upon an explanation which would satisfy her husband if he arrived home before her.
    'You seldom deal with them,' he said. 'You deal with me, and I'm never late.'
    She didn't contradict him. He was right. She very seldom saw the Russians: they were all too likely to be tailed by MI5 people.
    'And when you do contact them, this is the sort of thing that happens.' He was pleased to show how important he was in the contact with the Russians.
    She couldn't help worrying about this Russian who'd tried to defect. He'd seen that she was alone and approached her in what seemed to be an impulsive decision. Had it all been a KGB plot? She'd seen him only that once, but he'd seemed such a genuine decent man. 'It must be difficult for someone like Blum,' she said.
    'Difficult in what way?'
    'Working in a foreign country. Young, missing his wife, lonely. Perhaps shunned because he is Jewish.'
    'I doubt that very much,' he said. 'He was a third secretary in the attaché's office: he was trusted and well paid. The little swine was determined to prove how important he was.'
    'A Russian Jew with a German name,' said Fiona. 'I wonder what motivated him.'
    'He won't try that stunt again,' said Martin. 'And the attaché's office will get a rocket from Moscow.' He smiled with satisfaction at the idea. 'Everything will go through me, as it was always done before Blum.'
    'Could it have been a trick?'
    'To see if you are loyal to them? To see if you are really a double: working for your SIS masters?'
    'Yes,' she said. 'As a test for me.' She watched Martin carefully. Bret Rensselaer, her case officer, who was master-minding this double life of hers, said he was certain that Blum was acting on orders from Moscow. Even if he wasn't, Rensselaer had explained, it's better we lose this chance of a highly placed agent than endanger you. Sometimes she wished she could look at life with the same cold-blooded detachment that Bret Rensselaer displayed. In any case, there was no way she could defy him, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. But what would happen now?
    Martin gave a cunning smile as he reflected upon this possibility. 'Well if it was a test, you came through with flying colours,' he said proudly.
    She realized then, for the first time, what a stalwart supporter she had in him. Martin was committed to her: she was his investment and he'd do anything rather than face the idea that his protegee was not the most influential Soviet agent of modern history.
    'It's getting late.'
    'There there. We'll get you to the train on time. Bernard's coming back from Berlin today, isn't he?'
    She didn't answer. Martin had no business asking such things even in a friendly conversational way.
    Martin said, 'I'm watching the time. Don't-fret.'
    She smiled. She regretted now the way that she had snapped at him. The Russians had decided that the two of them were joined by a strong bond of affection: that Martin's avuncular manner, as well as his unwavering political belief, was an essential part of her dedication. She didn't want to give them any reason to re-examine their theory.
    She looked round the tiny room and