Illegal Action

10

Liz was just beginning to think about going home when she looked up from the papers on her desk to find Peggy Kinsolving standing in the doorway of her office, with a carry-on bag in one hand and her briefcase in the other. Her hair was up in a severe bun, and she was dressed in a smart rose-coloured suit. The effect was to make her look older, but there was something youthfully eager about the excited expression on her face.

“Hello there,” said Liz. “Have a good trip?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Come on in,” said Liz.

Still holding her cases, Peggy advanced into the room. “The Germans and the Norwegians think there’s been a Russian Illegal in Norway. They’ve followed the support officer there from Germany and now he’s coming to London, so they think the Illegal’s moved here,” she said breathlessly.

“Why don’t you put your bags down?” said Liz gently. “Take a seat, and tell me all about it.”

When ten minutes later Peggy finished recounting Beckendorf’s and Karlsson’s story, she looked at Liz and asked, “What do you think?”

Liz tapped the desktop pensively. Then she said, “It seems a bit thin. It’s based on a lot of assumptions. Have they tried to detect any communications to or from this Illegal? I thought in the Cold War it was radio transmissions that pinpointed the existence of Illegals. Even though we couldn’t read what the messages said, didn’t we know where they were coming from and broadly where they were directed to?”

“Herr Beckendorf is a complete expert on this,” Peggy replied. “He was working on it for years during the Cold War and he says they’re using encrypted computer messages now. They bounce them through countless network nodes so it’s very difficult to detect the ultimate destination.”

“All right,” said Liz, now into full investigative mode and not noticing that Peggy’s face had fallen at her sceptical reception of this news. “But why does he think this Ivanov kept going to Norway at all? The whole point of Illegals surely was that they never met their support officer.”

“I wondered about that too,” said Peggy. “Perhaps the Illegal needed something that he couldn’t get for himself. Documents perhaps. Or maybe his 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!”