Free The Midnight Swimmer by Edward Wilson

November in mourning instead of celebration.
    I am sure that Zhenka already knows about this. It certainly would have been his job to brief the Ambassador. But perhaps he hasn’t told you. When it comes to state security there are certain secrets a husband must keep from his wife – and, likewise, my sending this letter to you is one secret you must keep from Zhenka. And when you have read this letter you must destroy it. We have all been sworn to secrecy. Marshall Nedelin and all the others are going to be reported as having been killed in plane crashes. The truth must never be known.
     
    Your devoted brother,
    Arkasha
    Catesby’s eyes were now clear and dry again. He was back at work. He realised that he had been wrong to keep a copy of the letter. He tore it into tiny fragments and tossed them into the night wind which carried the particles into the North Sea. They dissolved like snowflakes as they touched the water.

 
     
    I t was quarter past seven and a very wet morning. Catesby had walked from his flat in Pimlico to Broadway Buildings in St James’s. It was so early that the NDO, the Night Duty Officer, was still at his desk in the foyer. As Catesby put his dripping brolly in a rack with a dozen other brollies that were expertly rolled and dry – the taxi and car brigade – the NDO looked up. ‘Mr Catesby.’
    ‘Good morning, Captain Nowell.’
    ‘Director Bone would like to see you.’
    ‘Tell him I’d like a cup of tea.’
    The NDO smiled at the impertinence and picked up an internal telephone.
     
    Bone’s office windows faced across to the headquarters of the London Underground. It was, playing on the double meaning, a somewhat apt view for a spy chief. It was also, considering Bone’s dislike of modernist art and sculpture, a cruel irony to impose such a view on him. The Underground building was a feast of modernity. There were sculptures by Gill, Moore and Epstein. The sculpture that glared most directly at Bone’s office was Epstein’s Morning which featured a naked man, presumably the father, holding a child with an abnormally long penis.
    Bone was standing behind his desk with his reading glasses sliding down his nose. He looked animated and was waving a piece of paper at Catesby. ‘Have a look at this.’
    Catesby took the document.
     

    JOINT INTELLIGENCE COMMITTEE ASSESSMENT OF CURRENT SOVIET BALLISTIC MISSILE PROGRAMME
     
    UK EYES BRAVO: STRAP 2 CAN/AUS/US EYES ONLY
     
    LEDGER DISTRIBUTION:
    FO – PUSD
    CABINET OFFICE
    ODA US EMBASSY
    CANADIAN HIGH COMMISSION
    AUSTRALIAN HIGH COMMISSION
     
    1 NOVEMBER 1960
     
    FROM: HENRY BONE, CBE; DIRECTOR FOR WEST EUROPE AND SOVIET BLOC, SECRET INTELLIGENCE SERVICE
     
    There has been much speculation surrounding the recent death of Marshall Mitrofan Ivanovich Nedelin in an air crash. Marshall Nedelin was commander of the Strategic Rocket Forces development programme. Although Marshall Nedelin had neither a scientific nor an engineering background, his role was not merely symbolic. His primary function was to motivate and coordinate design teams. Nedelin’s attempts, however, to pressure scientists into working in rigid military-style frameworks were often counterproductive. His methods inhibited ingenuity and creativity. Therefore, it would be wrong to regard Nedelin’s death as a setback to the development of the R-16 and future Soviet ICBMs.
    Our latest estimates suggest that the R-16 has a maximum range of 13,000 kilometres carrying a ‘light’ warhead of 3 megatons and a max range of 11,000 kilometres carrying a ‘heavy’ warhead of 6 megatons. We cannot definitively state whether or not the R-16 ICBM is currently operational. It would, however, be reckless to assume that it is not. The Western intelligence services have a poor record in predicting a timetable for Soviet military development. The successful test of a Soviet Atomic bomb in 1949 took place three years sooner than our most dire intelligence estimates.
     
    THIS PAPER WAS