passports, although obviously under false, English names. In the passports there’ll be Russian tourist visas: my technical division have provable Russian inks and Cyrillic type fonts for entry and exit stamps. The photographs are good enough for my technical experts again to gauge with sufficient accuracy both the height, weight, and physique of Natalia and the child, for a complete selection of English-manufactured and -labeled clothes, sufficiently worn for them not to appear obviously new. Everything will be shipped to the embassy in the diplomatic bag. My rezidentura there will put together a choice of Russian souvenirs a mother and her daughter would be expected to bring back to England. We make contact with Natalia and arrange a pickup—that’s going to need a lot more detailed consideration, if they’re under tight surveillance—to get them to the embassy, where everything I’ve set out will be waiting, including their confirmed reservations on a direct British Airways flight to London.…”
The pause was as prepared as the recitation for Rebecca to come in on cue: “Taking the urgency into account, our technicians have already started work on the passports and the clothing.”
“You might like to hold on that,” stopped the other woman. “We’ve already prepared a complete documentation selection.”
Smith enjoyed the stretched silence, reluctant to snap it. “You seem to have started a little prematurely.”
“As you have,” challenged Monsford.
“‘You’re in charge,’” quoted Smith, verbatim. “Isn’t that what you said?”
“This isn’t a competition.” stated Rebecca, her overeffusiveness gone.
“Absolutely not,” mocked Jane.
“The problem isn’t one of technical resources or facilities: we can forge or manufacture whatever we need,” stressed Smith, content that the balance had been restored. “The problem is physically getting under our protection—and in a way that can’t diplomatically or publicly rebound—a woman and child presumably under FSB surveillance. How do you suggest we do that?”
“That’s what Gerald meant about detailed consideration,” said Rebecca.
“The entire purpose of this meeting,” reminded Jane, as conscious as Aubrey Smith of their recovery. “What’s your proposal?”
“She and the child have to come to the embassy by themselves,” improvised Monsford, looking to his mistress for support.
“Once they’re in the building, technically British territory…” tried Rebecca, loyally.
“That territorial protection would cease the moment Natalia and Sasha took one step outside the embassy.” Smith sighed. “But we’re assuming they’re under tight surveillance. How do you get a message to Natalia to go to the embassy without it being intercepted by those watching her? And—assuming that somehow you do—can you prevent their being seized long before they get into the embassy in the first place?”
“At this moment I haven’t the slightest idea,” conceded the SIS Director, although not as an admission of defeat. “This is a planning session, for each of us to give the most constructive input. What’s your contact proposal?”
“Diversions,” declared the MI5 Director-General, enigmatically. “By letting the Russians imagine we’ve taken their bait and that we’re coming for mother and daughter. But then introduce diversion after diversion to send them around in circles until they don’t know which is the genuine extraction and which isn’t.”
“They don’t need to run around in circles,” disputed Rebecca. “They’ve got Natalia and Sasha. They’re the only people the FSB need constantly to watch.”
“You’re looking in the wrong direction, which is what I intend them to do,” argued the soft-voiced Smith. “Of course they’ve got Natalia and Sasha. But Natalia and Sasha aren’t who they really want, are they? They want Charlie Muffin.”
“You’re proposing to send him back in!” exclaimed
The pause was as prepared as the recitation for Rebecca to come in on cue: “Taking the urgency into account, our technicians have already started work on the passports and the clothing.”
“You might like to hold on that,” stopped the other woman. “We’ve already prepared a complete documentation selection.”
Smith enjoyed the stretched silence, reluctant to snap it. “You seem to have started a little prematurely.”
“As you have,” challenged Monsford.
“‘You’re in charge,’” quoted Smith, verbatim. “Isn’t that what you said?”
“This isn’t a competition.” stated Rebecca, her overeffusiveness gone.
“Absolutely not,” mocked Jane.
“The problem isn’t one of technical resources or facilities: we can forge or manufacture whatever we need,” stressed Smith, content that the balance had been restored. “The problem is physically getting under our protection—and in a way that can’t diplomatically or publicly rebound—a woman and child presumably under FSB surveillance. How do you suggest we do that?”
“That’s what Gerald meant about detailed consideration,” said Rebecca.
“The entire purpose of this meeting,” reminded Jane, as conscious as Aubrey Smith of their recovery. “What’s your proposal?”
“She and the child have to come to the embassy by themselves,” improvised Monsford, looking to his mistress for support.
“Once they’re in the building, technically British territory…” tried Rebecca, loyally.
“That territorial protection would cease the moment Natalia and Sasha took one step outside the embassy.” Smith sighed. “But we’re assuming they’re under tight surveillance. How do you get a message to Natalia to go to the embassy without it being intercepted by those watching her? And—assuming that somehow you do—can you prevent their being seized long before they get into the embassy in the first place?”
“At this moment I haven’t the slightest idea,” conceded the SIS Director, although not as an admission of defeat. “This is a planning session, for each of us to give the most constructive input. What’s your contact proposal?”
“Diversions,” declared the MI5 Director-General, enigmatically. “By letting the Russians imagine we’ve taken their bait and that we’re coming for mother and daughter. But then introduce diversion after diversion to send them around in circles until they don’t know which is the genuine extraction and which isn’t.”
“They don’t need to run around in circles,” disputed Rebecca. “They’ve got Natalia and Sasha. They’re the only people the FSB need constantly to watch.”
“You’re looking in the wrong direction, which is what I intend them to do,” argued the soft-voiced Smith. “Of course they’ve got Natalia and Sasha. But Natalia and Sasha aren’t who they really want, are they? They want Charlie Muffin.”
“You’re proposing to send him back in!” exclaimed
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