The Geneva Trap

Chapter 23

‘Good morning, Elizabeth,’ said a familiar voice on the phone. ‘You’re an early bird today.’

Liz closed her eyes and suppressed a groan. Geoffrey Fane was the last person she wanted to hear from just now. It was only half-past seven and she’d come in early to catch up with all the paperwork that had accumulated while she’d been in Switzerland. How on earth did Fane know she was in her office? It was creepy.

She looked longingly at the cup of coffee and the croissant she’d bought as she left the Underground, and hoped she could get rid of him quickly. ‘They say the early bird catches the worm, Geoffrey. What can I do for you?’

‘I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. The Swiss say a charter plane from Moscow landed in Geneva on Saturday, return flight. It took off two hours later with one passenger – on a stretcher, apparently unconscious. The Russians claimed he was ill. But the Swiss are pretty sure it was Alexander Sorsky.’

‘Oh, God. No wonder he didn’t turn up at the café. He was perfectly OK when I saw him on Thursday.’

‘I’m sure he was. I’m afraid that somehow the Russians must have got on to him.’

Liz thought about her last meeting with Sorsky and her unease about what he was proposing to do. Could he have been spotted going through his colleague’s files? It didn’t seem likely – he’d been very confident there was no chance of his being caught. Even if he had been, he should have been able to come up with some reasonable explanation. But there was one other way he could have been rumbled. ‘Was there any surveillance on my last meeting with him in the park?’

‘Why do you ask?’ Fane said slowly.

He was hedging; he always hated direct questions. ‘I want to know if there was surveillance while I was waiting for Sorsky in the park on Thursday. Russell White promised me there wouldn’t be.’

‘Well, if he gave you his word, then there wasn’t. Not from us.’

‘That’s easy to say, but he told me the very first time I met Petrov that there wouldn’t be any surveillance and there was. So how do I know he was telling the truth this time?’

‘You don’t, Elizabeth. But you have my word for it.’

As if that meant anything, she thought. ‘Could it have been someone else then? I don’t mean the Russians – if they had been watching Sorsky, they would never have allowed him to come to the meeting on Thursday.’

Fane sighed. ‘It was the Swiss. Their DG, a man called Bech – competent fellow normally – admitted as much to White. They were there all right, though he said they are certain no one else was watching. Meaning, the Russians weren’t following Sorsky – they must have found out some other way.’

‘I’m glad you’re so sure the Swiss would have noticed if the Russians were there.’

‘Well. Perhaps. One can get overconfident on one’s own turf. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened – even here.’

Liz, ignoring this barb, went on, ‘I need to know who Sorsky’s colleagues are. I’ve asked Russell White to find out.’

‘What’s that got to do with his disappearance?’

But Liz wasn’t in the mood to continue the conversation. Fane could wait for her report on her meeting with the Russian. ‘Just believe me, it’s important.’

‘Well, the Station will have an ORBAT of the Russian Residency in Geneva but I don’t know how detailed it will be. Or whether it will show who works with whom’.

‘Then please ask Russell to get the Swiss to help find out. If Bech and his crew screwed up their surveillance, it’s the least they can do.’ And she put the phone down.

At 8.30 Peggy Kinsolving stuck her head round the door. ‘What’s up?’ she asked, seeing the look on Liz’s face.

‘The Russians have snatched Bravado – took him out on a stretcher. He’ll be somewhere awful by now.’

Peggy sat down. ‘What happened? It sounds like something out of the Cold War. Do you remember how Philby told the Russians about that man in Istanbul who wanted to defect? What was his name?’

‘Volkov.’

‘Yes, him. He was taken out all wrapped in bandages by a Russian plane. No one ever saw him again.’ Peggy was a keen student of Cold War cases. ‘Does that sort of thing still go on?’

‘Of course it does. Have you forgotten Alexander Litvinenko? Look what they did to him – and that was here in the heart of London. The Russian services have never tolerated traitors. They still don’t.’

‘Poor Bravado.’

Liz propped her elbows on the desk and leaned her chin on her hands, looking out of the window. She felt sick. This was the second time in her career she had lost a source. After the young Muslim codenamed Marzipan had died a few years ago, she had hoped it would never happen again. That hadn’t been her fault – he’d been betrayed by a mole in the Service. But now she couldn’t help wondering whether this time she was somehow to blame. Had she been wrong to encourage Sorsky? Had she done enough to warn him how dangerous his self-appointed mission was? Should she have insisted he wait before trying to find out more? But she knew he wouldn’t have listened to her. After all, he knew more about the risks he was taking than she did.

She felt Peggy’s eyes on her, and told herself to snap out of it. So she looked at her younger colleague and said, ‘Without Bravado we’re on our own. We’ve got to find this mole in the MOD, if he exists.’

‘That’s what I came to see you about,’ said Peggy. ‘I think we’ve made some progress.’

‘Really?’ Liz’s tone lightened. ‘Tell me about it.’

She listened intently as Peggy told her about the unauthorised email Cowdray had sent to a female colleague.

‘Is she one of the foreigners?’

‘No. It’s an English woman. She’s been in the MOD for fifteen years.’

‘So what do you think’s going on?’

‘It could be nothing sinister, but according to Fielding even sending the thing has broken some sort of firewall.’

‘We’ll need to talk to them both.’

Peggy gave a small smile. ‘I’ve set it up. Cowdray’s on his way down to London. He’s been told there’s some sort of a mistake in the budget calculations for the programme he’s working on – he thinks he’s coming down for a three o’clock meeting with Fielding and the auditor. The woman’s name is Duggan. She’s expecting to talk to Pensions at two o’clock. I thought it would be best if you saw her first.’

‘I don’t think it will be me seeing either of them. I need to get back to Geneva, to find out what’s gone on and put a rocket behind the Swiss. You’ll have to deal with them.’

‘Me?’ said Peggy, her cheeks going red. ‘I can’t do it. They’ll never tell me anything.’

‘Come on, Peggy. Of course they will. You’ve got all the background and to them you’ll be the voice of authority. Don’t forget, they’ve done something wrong. They’ll be scared stiff of you.’

There was a pause, while Peggy’s expression changed from uncertain to determined. ‘Oh, all right,’ she said, sitting up straighter. ‘I suppose I’ll have to do it.’

‘Yes, and you’ll do it splendidly.’

‘I hope so.’

‘I’ve got another lead as well.’ Liz told Peggy about the mysterious trips to Marseilles which Sorsky’s colleague had been taking.

‘Has Geoffrey Fane got anyone in Marseilles?’ Peggy asked.

‘I doubt it. And I’m not sure what we’d be looking for there anyway. I think the first thing is to identify this colleague and then get the French to see if they can find out what he’s been doing there. That’s why I’ve got to go back to Geneva – to get things going before the trail goes cold.’