Part 13 (1/2)

Chapter Fifteen.

Berenkov decided against confronting Sampson at Dzerzhinsky Square. It was the headquarters and the man knew it and Berenkov had listened to all the tapes not just the debriefing records but those from the apartment, as well and was aware of Sampson's arrogance. He didn't want the man arrogant. Although he'd criticised the att.i.tude to Kalenin, he wanted the man still anxious to prove himself, as he had been during the encounter with Comrade Fedova. So Berenkov chose the same meeting place, the peripheral road building, even utilising an office on the same floor. He was undecided about wearing uniform but in the end decided against it.

Sampson entered the office as eagerly as Berenkov remembered him from the video film, smiling hopefully, the expression growing when he saw that the interrogator had changed and that it was a man. Berenkov supposed Sampson would imagine the meeting more important: which it was, he conceded.

Berenkov made no effort at any introduction, determined to keep Sampson in the subservient role. And proceeded cautiously, as if the encounter was nothing more than a continuation of the earlier interview, actually reverting back to some of the things talked about with the woman, as if clarification were necessary. It was a worthwhile test. Sampson responded as willingly as before and there were no variations in the answers, which was important. It was a full hour before Berenkov approached the true purpose of the meeting.

'How long were you on the Russian desk?' he asked, suddenly.

'About sixteen months.'

'Precisely,' insisted Berenkov.

'Sixteen months and two weeks.'

'An a.s.sistant?'

Sampson nodded. 'There was the division director and then two of us. The other a.s.sistant had more seniority.'

'Does that mean he had greater access than you?'

Sampson shook his head. 'Our clearance was the same level.'

'I'm aware of clearances and I'm aware of how things actually resolve, in working conditions,' pressed Berenkov. 'Did you have access to everything with which the other a.s.sistant dealt?'

'We worked our own cases; our own people. But I definitely had access. I've made that clear, in the reports. I made a point of seeing what he was doing.'

'What about the division director?'

'Officially he was cleared higher than I was. It had to be that way: there again I got to what I could.'

'But not everything?'

Sampson hesitated and Berenkov knew the man was wondering whether he could afford an over-commitment. 'Of course not,' said Sampson. 'It was actually trying to get at something that I shouldn't that got me put under suspicion in the end.'

Berenkov was glad the man hadn't tried to boast stupidly. 'Give me a percentage?' he demanded. 'How much stuff did you have access to? Or could you reasonably expect to have had some awareness, at least?'

There was another pause and Sampson said, 'Eighty per cent.'

That hadn't been a boast either, Berenkov decided. Kalenin wasn't going to get what he expected from this meeting, he thought. Berenkov said, 'Did you have access to the cable traffic, coming into London from the emba.s.sy in Moscow?'

'Most of it,' said Sampson. 'It depended upon the cla.s.sification at the point of transmission, of course.'

Berenkov saw the point and s.n.a.t.c.hed for it. 'You know all the cla.s.sifications?'

'I don't know,' said Sampson and Berenkov realised the man was being completely honest and was glad of it. 'I know a lot of them.'

Berenkov pushed some paper across the desk at the other man and said, 'Give me some. From the highest cla.s.sification of which you are aware and working downwards.'

Sampson stared back at the order, the curiosity obvious. 'Is there a point to this?' he said.

'It's a debriefing,' said Berenkov. 'There's a point to everything.'

Sampson was unconvinced and showed it. if I knew a purpose, maybe I could help more easily.'

'Just the cla.s.sifications,' insisted Berenkov. He was impressed by Sampson: was sure the man was telling the truth and was even curbing the tendency to over-commitment. But this was too important to allow the slightest relaxation.

There weren't that many, so it only took Sampson minutes. As he handed the list back, Sampson said, it's an alphabetical progression. Having detected me, I'll guess they will have changed it, but it won't matter because the alphabetical designation only has dating significance anyway. I was caught in June, the sixth month. The coding that year had actually originated from A, for January. So June the sixth month was the sixth letter F. The important indicators follow that on the initial grouping of transmission letters. MD is for Wilson himself. M for main; D for Director main Director. Various division directors have the prefix, designating the station. Here for instance, the division is designated S, for Soviet. So there would be a letter, for the month, then S, then D, directing it to the director of the Soviet division. I could actually set out an example, if you want me to.'

Berenkov shook his head, not needing any further explanation. To show Sampson he understood completely he said, 'So if from Moscow in February of the year you were detected there was sent a message prefixed B for the second month of the year and then M, for main, and D, for Director, Wilson himself would have been the recipient.'

'Yes,' said Sampson. 'But not any longer. They'll have changed everything, because of my coming across. It's obvious I would tell you.'

There had been ten messages before Sampson had been detected, all addressed personally to the main Director: from the changes after Sampson's detection it would be easy for the cryptologists to cross-reference and find the new British designation code. Not that Berenkov considered it necessary. 'Tell me about Wilson,' he said.

Sampson hesitated, composing the reply. 'Aloof man, not often seen in the various divisions. Bad leg, from some accident or other. Former full time army officer, but you'll know that from the listing in Who's Who or Burke's Peerage. Fills the b.l.o.o.d.y place with roses. Grows them. Widower. Absolute professional, admired by a lot of the old timers ...' The man smiled up. 'Actually heard a suggestion that when he discovered what I'd done he didn't want the thing settled by trial: preferred a more direct and unpublic removal.'

'What about involvement?' pressed Berenkov, wanting to achieve his point. 'If Wilson considered something sufficiently important, would he become personally involved: run control himself?'

'Oh yes,' said Sampson at once. 'Ex regular officer, like I said. Baxter that was my divisional chief was always moaning that he was poking his nose in, at executive level.'

Berenkov sat for several moments, uncertain. Settled as soon as possible, Kalenin had ordered: at least he was more personally satisfied with Sampson than he had been when the meeting began. The Russian reached sideways, into the briefcase beside him and unseen behind the bulk of the desk. It didn't matter which communication it was but he glanced at it anyway, completely accustomed now to the code and able to read it as if it were ordinary Cyrillic script: it was a message about additional silo construction at Baikonur, for the protective version of the SS-20 missile, which had the highest security cla.s.sification and of which they had been sure that nothing could leak out to the West. He pa.s.sed it across to Sampson, like he had the paper earlier, and said, 'What does that say?'

Sampson frowned down, the effort at concentration and the need to succeed obvious. 'C,' he said at once. 'So it was transmitted in March, before my detection. MD, so Wilson was the recipient ...' The man's voice trailed. 'I don't understand what follows: it's a code with which I'm not familiar. Neither the actual message code. It looks like random computer choice, to me. G.o.d knows how you'd break that.'

It hadn't been G.o.d, remembered Berenkov: it had been a team of twenty mathematicians working around the clock, at their own computers. Taken four and a half months. And was still incomplete. He said, 'What do you know about Baikonur?'

Sampson shrugged. 'Soviet s.p.a.ce exploration centre, like Houston and Canaveral, in America. Why?'

'You didn't see any transmission, in the March three months before your detection concerning Baikonur?'

The Englishman looked back to the meaningless collection of letters and figures, then back up at Berenkov. 'You know everything I saw in March,' he said slowly. 'I transmitted it. In March I wasn't suspected.'

'Nothing about Baikonur pa.s.sed through the Soviet division?' persisted Berenkov.

'I was right about the spy!' said Sampson, in belated, excited awareness. 'The one I warned you about. But you haven't caught him!'

Berenkov supposed it was hardly the elucidation of the decade, after the way he'd conducted the meeting. Still sharp enough, though. He said, 'A spy operating for some of the period when you were still clear, for us.'

'I told you,' said Sampson, impatiently. In reflection he said, 'I knew Wilson and Harkness were up to something. I just knew it.'

'They ran it themselves?' queried Berenkov.

'Definitely,' a.s.sured Sampson. 'I'd have known, otherwise.' He fluttered between them the piece of paper bearing the code he could not comprehend. 'Baikonur?' he asked.

'Yes.'