Chapter 2

Adrianne advised me that I should look my best when I went to see Helen. I didn’t take much urging. Since leaving the hospital I had been trying to be the best Babs around. I had spent a bit of my savings on clothes and shoes. All that time on courses with all food and shelter provided had given me a good bank account. My outfit was smart, yet sexy. Four-inch heels, smoky hose, tight skirt, and a silk blouse that showed my cleavage, and a bit more.

I was now proficient in doing my own make-up and hair. The one thing that I didn’t have was a lot of jewellery or even pierced ears. They were a no-no when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, as they can be pulled off, causing a distraction that could lead to your death. Adrianne rated me as ‘hot’ and declared that whatever Helen had for me to do, I would knock it out of the park.

It was with some trepidation that I went, with Adrianne, in her car to South Bank. I had never been there in all my time with the service and expected Helen to be in a big office with a view of the river. Nothing so grand. Adrianne led me through the security, where I was given a one-day pass, and down two levels. The office was large, I give it that, but there were no windows and Helen had put up a big picture of a Monet garden to lighten the bland wall. Helen stood as we walked in and came over to give us both a hug, much better than a handshake, any day.

“Welcome to my hide-away, Barbara. You certainly came up trumps with that make-over, I was told that you would be good, but you, my girl, are truly amazing. You’re going to make a splash when we set you to work. The first job I have for you will be right up your street. Do you remember the embassy where you spent some time? Well, there’s a rumour that the aid to the Ambassador is being a naughty boy and mixing with the wrong crowd. He’s very much the ladies’ man and you’re just the lady to find out the facts.”

With that, she led us through another doorway into a short corridor. We went into a large room where a middle-aged woman was sitting at a workbench, looking at a passport through a magnifying lens.

“Gloria, meet Barbara, our newest addition. She will be going after King Dick for us, as you can see, she has all the attributes required. All she needs from you is the back-story and paperwork that we have discussed. Now, Gloria will spend a couple of hours with you, and you will fly out this evening. Adrianne is going now and will be set up to meet you. You are old friends, meeting in an exotic city to have a good time. Good luck and I’ll see you when it’s over.”

With that, both she and Adrianne gave me a hug and left me with Gloria. She went to a desk where a thick file was resting. Tapping it, she looked hard at me.

“Sit down, Barbara. Take the weight of your feet. I’ve been looking through your file and I’m impressed. What made me smile was an interview with a young lady who was trying hard to fake an orgasm when you arrived on her bed. She was quite forward in telling our agent that she had the orgasm she was hoping for and has never missed having one since. Doesn’t that make you feel as if you’ve provided a service?”

I smiled, dutifully, as the memory of that event was something I had tried hard to forget.

“I’d rather not think about that, Gloria, as it was the start of a lot of pain and the big change in my life. As well as multiple fractures, my manhood was removed by a ceiling joist I managed to straddle on the way down. I want to consider myself as a natural woman, so that I can keep from making mistakes. Adrianne has already provided me with a day-to-day history that is verifiable. It wouldn’t do me any good to start talking about my days in an all-boys school, now, would it?”

“No, that would not do at all. What I’m going to give you is a short history of your identity for this job. You are Davina Holdsworth, an actor’s agent, visiting Adrianne, to catch up and check out the local theatres for new talent. Our mark is a budding actor, and we think that there are bad guys among his friends. He may well have been caught in a honey trap, which is why we think he’ll be stuck on you. There’s a quiet room, next door, with a comfortable chair and your background, with all the paperwork. There’s also a file on our target. You have two hours to get it all in your head. I’ll give you a short test and then you take the new papers, and the suitcase next to the desk. Leave all the current paperwork with me, for safe keeping.”

She escorted me back into the corridor and opened another door for me to enter the room.

“This will be locked while you’re here. There is a toilet cubicle if you need it. When you leave, you leave as Davina, got it?”

I nodded, went in, and sat to study. My back-story as Davina Holdsworth was simple, yet effective. Study at an all-girls school, a history of drama classes but not big roles that could be researched. The move to working with an agency, and now a freelancer looking for talent, paid a commission when they were signed on. There was a complete set of matching papers, including a passport, and driving licence, plus a wad of business cards, credit cards, cash, and a bundle of business cards for agencies. One had a circle on the top right corner, and there was a note in the file that this was the one I should ring if I found talent. I expect that it was a front, with someone there knowing that I may ring.

The file on the target was bulky and took most of my time. He was, like me, a public-school boarder. His marks had been ordinary and was considered lazy. He, also, had been interested in drama, and the impression I got was of a person who went through life as if it was a stage play. No, make that a bedroom farce! The pages on his sexual conquests were impressive, until you noted that none of his relationships lasted very long. He had only been at this embassy for a few months, so hadn’t been there when I was.

When I was satisfied that I had learned all I could, I turned my attention to the suitcase, and then to a portable rack with some clothes hanging from it. This was my Davina look and I was interested to find out what sort of woman I was to be. In acting, you can take your cues from the clothes. A chinless wonder is always believable in a tuxedo, while a lady always wears long dresses. What I saw was a long dress with a fashionable cut and good accessories.

I stripped out of my clothes, folding them carefully and placing them on the table. Then I went to the bathroom and showered, making sure I removed all the make-up I had so carefully applied this morning. Dried off, I got dressed in my new persona, noting that everything was top end goods. Davina must have a bit of wealth, another pointer to my role.

At the two-hour mark I was sat, reviewing the files, as Gloria opened the door.

“Are you ready, Davina?”

“Why, yes, Gloria. Is someone going to carry my suitcase, or do I have to haul it myself?”

“Sorry, you’ll just have to take care of it.”

“Just this once, Gloria, they don’t treat you like this at the Hilton, you know.”

She checked that I didn’t have any remnant of Barbara’s life and picked up the day pass before leading me back towards an exit door. On the way she quizzed me on my story, then gave me my plane ticket.

“Use the cash and cards as you see fit. There will be a taxi waiting for you outside. It will take you the tube station. Go anywhere for an hour or more, then get a taxi to the airport. Your flight is at five, so you’ll have plenty of time to check in and eat. If you pick up a watcher along the way, ring this number and describe them.”

The number was on a card which went into my new bag. The day pass was given to the security detail, and I was back out in the open air and on my first job. I got in the taxi; the driver was a girl with a scarf over her head. She said nothing and drove me to Victoria station and waited just long enough for me to get my bag out, before driving off, with a little wave.

I stood at the kerb and considered my position. I was here and it was lunch time. What would a passenger do? Well, eat, of course. I towed my case into the Railway Station and stood for a while, looking at the timetable, all the while trying to pick up my tail. I knew that they would expect me to go straight down to the tube, like a good bunny. What I did next was to walk confidently to the entrance to the Grosvenor Hotel, asking if there was somewhere I could leave my case while I had a meal. There was no way a lady of my breeding would use a fast-food outlet!

I had noticed a likely suspect loitering near the escalator to the tube platforms, and, as I was seated at a table with a waiter asking if I wanted something to drink, I saw him pop his head into the dining room and then disappear. I ordered a soft drink and looked at the menu. I then held my phone to my ear and looked angry. When he came back with my drink, I gave him my order and asked if the head waiter could come to my table. When he approached me, he looked worried.

“Madam, is there a problem?”

“Only with my flight. Is there any way I can book a small room for the night? I can give you my card to use.”

“Certainly, Madam, I will see to that immediately.”

My meal was being put on my table as he came back.

“Your card and receipt, Madam. Here is the room access card.”

“Thank you for that, could you please arrange for my case to be taken up? Here is the tag, it’s in the storage area. Here’s ten for yourself and another for the bell-boy.”

“You’re so kind, Madam. I’ll see to that little job. I hope that you have a pleasant stay and I trust that your flight is all right tomorrow.”

I finished my lunch and went to find the room. I opened my case and looked at the choices for a complete change. I found some nice tan slacks and a light sweater. I tied my long hair back into a ponytail and changed into the new outfit, adding a pair of sneakers. There was another bag in the case, and I transferred all my things to it, then repacked the case ready to go again.

I left the room and went to the main entrance of the hotel, walking out and blending with the crowds. I hailed a taxi which took me to Piccadilly Circus, where I paid him and then went down to ride the rails for a while. An hour later I called the number I had been given. Gloria answered. I reported in.

“Your boy is in his mid-twenties, wearing a grey hoodie over a blue denim shirt and jeans.”

“Well done, where are you and what did he do wrong?”

“I’m at Liverpool Street and I guess he’s still waiting for me to finish my lunch in the Grosvenor. I would have invited him to join me, but he wasn’t dressed for it. What I really want to know is if you’ve put a second tail on me. This one would be out of place at the Circus, he looks too much like one of the bad guys we’re after.”

“I can guarantee that we only put one lad out there for training purposes. Describe the new guy and tell me why you think he’s tailing you.”

“He’s wearing a black bomber jacket over black jeans and work boots. He’s black-haired and looks a bit Arabic.”

“You haven’t been watching the TV news, then. That sounds like the guy who the police are trying to catch. He is alleged to have raped several girls in tube toilets. Get yourself back to Victoria and I’ll alert the police to monitor everyone getting off the train.”

I did as she asked and got on the next train heading towards Victoria. Just to keep it interesting, I changed trains and he stayed with me, but well behind. At Victoria, I was going to walk right past the young agent, then took pity on him.

“Buddy, the guy I called in about is about fifty yards back there on the platform and coming this way quickly. Black clothes, black hair. I think that this is his preferred spot to get me into a toilet to work his evil. Get yourself some brownie points and show him to those police. They’re waiting for him but haven’t seen him before. Now, go!”

I walked away and was almost at the door of the Grosvenor as the police pulled the hooded man from the escalator tunnel. He was swearing fit to burst and then went quiet when a female officer hit him with her truncheon, in a place that made every man within sight want to cross his legs.

Back in my room, I showered and changed back into the long dress, let my hair down, checked my make-up and picked up the case. At the reception I handed in the door card, telling them that the airline had put on an extra flight, so I wouldn’t be staying the night. The doorman waved to a taxi for me, and I was off to the airport to catch my flight.

While I was waiting to board, I was visited by a detective. He was polite and wanted to know my side of this afternoon’s events. No doubt he had been briefed that I was on government business and not to mess with me. I gave him a complete report of when I had picked up the tail and had reported it to my manager. He smiled as I said that the man seemed to resist arrest. I told him that I thought the female officer was trying to hit him on the leg but missed. He told me to enjoy my flight as the boarding announcement sounded.

The trip was uneventful, if one discounts screaming and crying children, or the guy next to me who wanted to put his hand on my leg until I stabbed it with the bamboo fork from the food tray. After clearing the very intensive immigration at Sofia, I hugged Adrianne and we waited until my case came into view. She led me out to a car, so small that it could hardly take the two of us and the case.

That evening we just chatted and went out to a café for a snack and drink. She told me about all the drama clubs and the current shows. I had a list of likely places to find talent, with a tick beside the few where I might find my target. Of course, we were spoken to by burly men with beards and bad body odour, none making it past first base.

The next day I was out, checking out the various theatres and buying a few tickets to see shows that looked well produced. I also had lunch near the embassy but didn’t see anyone from the building. I didn’t fret, this could take weeks to move forward. In the meantime, I was creating a genuine interest in my cover story. On the fifth evening, I saw my target in a production. The plot was difficult to discern, the acting was questionable, and the script stupid. Big Dick was, however, quite believable as a chinless upper-class twit.

I was slow in getting out of my seat and heard a voice behind me as I went towards the aisle.

“Just woke up, eh! You’re the lucky one. I’m paid to sit though crap like that.”

I turned to see an elderly man that I had seen several times at shows.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t sleep, but must have gone into some sort of trance. That was bad, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but my problem, now, is to write a review that lets the public know that it’s cutting-edge satire, in the modern idiom, and that you need to be broad-minded to experience the ambiance. There you go, my next arts column in a nutshell. I’m Gregor, the critic, by the way. I’ve seen you at a few shows, recently.”

“Davina Holdsworth, talent spotter. I’m here for a few weeks to see if there’s any raw talent that could make it in a wider world. So far, all the actors seem too raw for words. There’s just not enough heat to make them medium, even.”

“Ha! I’ll have to fit that into a future column. Have you been invited to the after-party, although it should be called a wake after that performance.”

“No, I haven’t yet met anyone who is involved in this show.”

“Well, Davina, would you join me so that we can show a united front of sensibility to these jumped-up thespian wanna-be’s?”

“Why, Gregor, I thank you for the invitation. Who knows, the cast might have more life than the producer of this show could give them.”

He led me out of the theatre and to a hotel, just along the road. The cast hadn’t arrived yet, so we found a table and talked about the theatre, in general. I was dredging up memories of school plays, films of plays, and books that had been turned into plays, to hold up my end of the conversation. He was certainly well versed in all things theatrical, spoke perfect English, and I let him regale me with stories of the stage. Eventually, he asked me if there was anyone who had stood out, today.

“Why, yes. There was a character in the play, an upper-class, arrogant little prick, and the actor was so good at portraying that, I thought that he must have been just acting as himself.”

“Well said,” he chuckled. “That is the one and only Richard King, who likes to be called Ricardo Soverino. He works in the British Embassy. He fancies himself as a debonair man about town, and the ladies seem to fall for him, before falling by the wayside. Look, here’s Crystal, coming towards us. She has been though the mill, so to speak.” He reverted to Bulgarian. “Crystal, darling, this lady is an agency recruiter from England, and thought that King Dick was very good in that play, today. A natural, or so she believes.”

“Ha! That’s a good one. That man is spending his whole life living a part that only he knows. He looks good, he sounds good, and he’s not bad in bed – the first time. His problem is that he recycles his day, to the point where he’s so predictable, he gets boring. The only person in his life is himself. Oh! And Vlad Moneybags, of course. Stay away from him, or you may end up losing part of your life the way I did.”

She carried on to the bar and I looked at Gregor, raising an eyebrow.

“Vlad Moneybags?”

“Vladimer Abramovich, You’ll know him when you see him,” he grinned. “Or when you hear him.” This as a mighty bellow of laughter came from the doorway. I looked and saw a great bear of a man, with a red beard and twinkling eyes that looked around the room before resting on me. He lumbered our way and Gregor smiled.

“Gregor,” the man bellowed. “Who is this lovely lady you brought to meet us. Does your wife know?”

“Vlad, allow me to introduce Davina Holdsworth, from Britain. She is in town as a talent scout, looking for new faces to grace the British screens. She is still to find any.”

“Davina, that’s a beautiful name. Tell me, did you like our little play?”

“I’m in two minds whether to consign it to the rubbish bin, or to look at it as a new version of “Waiting for Godot.” It was a couple of hours which seemed to last an eternity, yet left you wanting more, a bit like a sour gobstopper.”

“Ha!” he bellowed. “Boris, come over here. This lady is a true critic and just told me that you write like Beckett!”

Boris came over and knelt beside me, taking my hand, and kissing it.

“Thank you, beautiful lady. I knew that there would have to be one person in the world who would see my work as I intended.”

With that, Vlad helped him rise and pulled him towards the bar, calling out.

“Make way for the new Beckett, everyone. Drinks all round, on me!”

I looked at Gregor and could see that he was having trouble holding himself in.

“Priceless, dear girl. You’ve now given me the headline of the column, and the chance to raise young Boris to new heights. When Vlad calls for drinks all round, it’s always the good vodka, and it keeps coming until he calls it a night, or else when everyone is flat on the floor. I can suggest something, and that is that you drink up and I’ll escort you out. They accept that I must leave early to write my piece. The only times I’ve written it after staying too late, I wrote rather scathing pieces, and they all want me to do something nice.”

So, we drained our glasses and made our way out while Vlad was regaling the crowd with ideas about new plays, based on other oddball works. He took my arm as we walked along the street.

“Davina, would you be good enough to come to my home. My wife will have made dinner and she always cooks too much. I would like her to meet you. She will be able to help you with your task, seeing that she had been on the stage before we married.”

I agreed, and he hailed a taxi. It took us into the suburbs and pulled up outside an apartment block. Leading me in, we walked up one flight of stairs and along a corridor. He pulled out his keys, unlocked the door and ushered me in, calling out to his wife to be decent as he had brought home a guest.

She was still beautiful and welcomed me with a hug and kiss on both cheeks, French style.

“Come in,” she cried. “Take off your jacket and come through to the kitchen. I’m about to serve up and there’s enough for three. Where on earth did Gregor find you? Oh! I’m Sofia, by the way, same as the city but not quite as large.”

“Sweetheart, this is Davina Holdsworth, a talent spotter from England. She’s given me the bones of the best column I’ve written, for ages. I’ll have to leave you two to talk after dinner, I have a masterpiece to write.”

Sofia was a very good cook, and I had the best meal in all my time in Sofia. The table talk was about the stage, the various actors, and today’s play. Sofia was hard on Boris, as a playwright, and laughed out loud when Gregor related my short meeting with him. After I helped clear the table, Gregor took himself off to his office, while Sofia sat me on a comfortable chair in the lounge, pouring us both a good sherry.

While we talked, I learned that she now had a small business, providing baked goods to several embassies. It seemed that each embassy liked goods that reminded them of home and that she had a collection of bakers who could make the various cakes, pies, and breads to suit the customer.

I also discovered that Gregor wasn’t just an art critic. No, he had a proper job. He was the Cultural Attache at the Hungarian Embassy.

Marianne Gregory © 2023

Chapter 3

I also found out that the drama group I had seen today was mainly made up of lower-level employees of several embassies, as a relief valve to lower their stress. She told me that Vlad wasn’t overtly linked to the Russians, but he had a lot of friends from all around the Soviet Bloc. It was said that he was an advisor to Todor Zhivkov, the leader of the Communist Party, and had carried that connection through to Lyudmila, pushing the culture and arts to the forefront.

The country was in the process of change, and Sofia admitted that she was scared that the Russians would just roll the tanks in and take over. For now, though, it was a quasi-democracy in its infancy. When Gregor joined us, he showed her his column and she burst out laughing. He wouldn’t show it to me, saying that I could read it in the paper.

“You had better call a taxi for Davina. She’ll never find her way back home, otherwise. Thank you for coming, I’ve felt that I’ve known you longer than a couple of hours.”

I sensed, rather than saw, Gregor shake his head, slightly, and wondered what other things were bubbling under the surface. He was, after all, from his Embassy, and was very likely there when I was training out of the British Embassy. I acted normally, thanked them for a lovely meal, promised to come again, and was ushered out after the mandatory hugs and cheek kisses. The taxi took me back to the apartment where Adrianne would be waiting. Well, he took me to one a street away, and I waited until he had left before I walked to our building.

When I got home, I gave Adrianne a run-down on what I had learned and asked for a pilot script to be sent to me. It was to be a TV show about a young, handsome, prince, longing to be accepted as a man of the people before he ascends to the throne. I particularly asked that there should be paperwork showing that several well-known, beautiful, women had already agreed to be in it. All that remained was to find the young prince. Adrianne went out to make a call on a public phone while I made ready for bed.

Later, the next day, there was a chalk mark on the lamppost across the street and Adrianne went off to pick up from her drop. When she came back, she had three thin sheets of paper with some information on them.

As I had found out, Gregor and Sofia were well known at South Bank, being very helpful to us in the past, and were not considered any threat. Vlad, on the other hand, was well known, but in another way. He had been named as a Russian agent, some years ago, in Bombay. His involvement in the drama club, especially because so many employees of embassies were involved, was a code red situation. I had to sit down after I read that, and then burned the papers and made myself a cup of tea. Adrianne comforted me.

“Davina, I don’t know what you’re going through, because I’ve never been given a code red. I’m sure we can work something out, we can take our time, there’s no hurry.”

“That’s all right. I’ve got a bit of a plan. The first thing is to reel our target in with the script. If nothing else, we’ll get him back to England where he can be properly debriefed. Who knows what he may have picked up and passed along, he would be able to see lots of papers on tables and desks.”

Over the next week I attended a few shows, making notes on likely talent to hide my target in a larger number. Gregor was often around, being the perfect gentleman. I was invited back to his house for dinner but insisted that I treat him and Sofia to a meal, he could choose the venue. So, the next Saturday evening, we met at his preferred restaurant, all dressed to kill and ready to eat.

We were well into the main course when we heard Vlad arrive. His voice carried through the room, and I realised that his cover was perfect. Be so obnoxious that no-one will take you seriously. Interestingly, he was with three others, two girls and Richard King.

The three were all well dressed, as befitting the location, but the girls looked less than elegant. Gregor waited until our plates were taken away and then looked at me.

“Davina, I’m sure that your job requires you to observe people in every situation. What’s your take on those four?”

“Other than the two girls have been paid to be here, I’m not sure what else to say.”

“If I add that Richard is an aide in the British Embassy and Vlad freelances for the Russians. A simple two-word answer, now.”

“Honey trap. Or maybe honey trap reinforcement.”

Sofia put her hand on my arm.

“You are good, Davina. You would have fooled everyone else but us. You have your mothers’ eyes. They can change everything else but the only way to hide those eyes would have been with coloured contact lenses. They’re not the best for long term insertion. You’ve done nothing wrong; the main thing is what you plan to do about your mole and our pain in the butt. Don’t tell us, we want to react as if we didn’t know what is to come. Just remember us to your parents when you see them, We were all good friends for many years, but we haven’t seen them for about two years.”

“Then you’ve seen them after me. The last time I saw them was while I was in the university, during the winter break. They were only home for two weeks. That was close to four years ago.”

We finished our meal and rose to leave. Of course, we couldn’t go without Vlad calling out to us.

“Gregor, thank you for that review, it made people come and see the show, and even made them talk about it. Boris was in heaven, explaining his thinking, or lack of it. Davina, so nice to see you, again. I believe that it may have been your insight and experience that helped Gregor, he hasn’t written something so considered for years. Have you found anyone to take back to England?”

“Well, I have a few in mind and I’m getting a pilot script sent to me so that I can talk to one of them with a solid offer.”

“That’s wonderful, I hope that the prospective star isn’t one of mine.”

I looked at Richard when I replied.

“Why is that? Surely there are some in your drama group that are good enough for the wider world.”

“I couldn’t have my actors leaving. I’m their parent, and they are my family. They all have their place and I’ll never let any leave.”

As we were talking, both girls had left the table to go to the toilet. As we turned to go, Sofia suggested that we should take advantage of the toilets as it was a long way home. Gregor headed for the gents while we went through our door and into an anti-room. Going into the inner sanctum, we were confronted with the vision of a girl snorting coke off a hand mirror, while the other was doing her mascara.

“Getting ready for the rest of the evening?” I asked.

“You need to have a bit of a buzz when you spend the night with Vlad,” one said. “At least I might get a couple of orgasms out of it. Scarlet is going to have to sleep with Limp Dick. Vlad pays well, thank goodness, even if it is in almost useless roubles.”

“Does he go off the boil with all that drink?”

“No, it gives him a lift and then he’s off and snoring. You don’t leave, though, as he wants more when he wakes up. I always carry a good book in my bag. That, and a few glasses of his excellent vodka, helps me work through it.”

That night, I asked Adrianne to get me a powerful sedative, one that would dissolve quickly in vodka. Two days later, when I saw Gregor again, he told me that Richard wanted to speak to me. It was lucky that I had received the script. It was almost good enough to be on television. Richard had given Gregor a phone number, which I knew was in the embassy, a breach of security. I rang him and we made an appointment for him to take me to dinner the following evening.

We met at a café, not far from the theatre. He was a self-centred half-wit, but good looking and very good company. I could tell why the other girls had given him a chance. Tonight, though, his mind was on his future, rather than conquest. We talked about the theatre and the various parts he had played. At the end of the meal, I gave him my card and the script. I left the café and found a taxi to take me close to home, as usual.

Of course, the card only had my UK contact numbers and I hoped that he would ring them to verify I was who I was supposed to be. I expected that someone, on the other end, would butter him up. It must have worked because he contacted Gregor to set up another meeting. This time it was somewhere across town. I expect that he was trying to keep it from Vlad. I saw his tail when he arrived, but he was too caught up in himself to see it.

We talked about the show, and why I thought that he would be perfect for it. I promised to get a contract sent to me so he could sign it before he left. He asked me not to say anything to Vlad. I was certain that I saw someone across the road, taking pictures with a long lens. I let him leave first and sat while his retinue followed. I was sure that Vlad wouldn’t do anything without being certain that one of his spies was bailing out. He may just let Richard go and call it quits, but I didn’t think that he could just sit back.

A week later, Adrianne had a message that Richard had given notice at the embassy. Two weeks after that, they fished his body out of the lake in the Aerogara Park. He had been brutally beaten and they had virtually ripped his face off. One down, one to go.

In the meantime, I had been working with three other aspiring actors, signing them on and ensuring that they were going to be made welcome in the UK, with genuine roles to go into, as long as they could leave Bulgaria. I looked as if I was preparing to leave, and Gregor organised a party in my honour. It was a nice evening, even Vlad came along and acted a bit quieter than usual. He was one of the last there and came up to me.

“Davina, I can’t let you leave without experiencing a night with the best lover in this city. I won’t take no for an answer. Act normally and my friend, over there, will keep his gun in his pocket.”

I said goodnight to the others and Gregor told me to be very careful. I went out to Vlad’s car and his driver opened the back door for me. We were driven to a secluded house while Vlad made sure that I knew where I stood. By the time we arrived, my nipple was already sore, and his finger had already buried itself in my slit.

He pulled me into the house and up to his bedroom.

“Get naked, bitch. Tonight, you’re mine to take. Have a drink if you want something to take the edge off. I’ll be back in a few moments, and you’d better be in bed with your legs apart.”

He left me and I quickly poured myself a vodka and then dropped two of the sedatives into the bottle, where they dissolved. A sip of the good vodka and I was out of my clothes and on the bed as he came back, carrying a couple more bottles of vodka. He looked happy that I had followed orders. He finished my drink and poured himself a big one as he started taking off his clothes. He downed that in one huge swallow, then got himself naked. When I saw what was pointing my way, I smiled and ran my finger over my, already wet, vagina.

The first time was like being rolled on by a horse, one with the tackle of a stallion. I can’t say much else about it, except that there was no foreplay, no afterplay, but I enjoyed the play itself, and had more than one orgasm. Two glasses of vodka later, he was on his back with me straddling him. I have heard some saying that riding a dolphin is a sensual experience. This was like riding a whale. One that grunted when he finally came, and then started snoring as he deflated while still in me.

It was now time to get to work. Still naked, I went to find a bathroom and clean up. Then I dressed, putting the heels I had been wearing into my big bag, and putting on the pair of ballet flats I had brought with me. I quietly opened the door and crept around the house, finding his driver sleeping in another room, but no other staff.

Back in the bedroom, I emptied the opened bottle of vodka over the bedsheets, then opened another to make sure Vlad was well soaked. I had a very short candle in my bag, lit it and put it on the pool of vodka in Vlad’s belly button. If the flame didn’t ignite the fluid, it would ignite the vapour. That done I wiped all the surfaces I could remember touching and carefully got out of the house. I walked for miles, ducking into the shadows as fire-engines raced past me.

When I was in the outskirts of the city, I flagged down a wandering taxi to take me to the railway station. There, I made use of the toilets and tidied up. Slipping my heels back on, I went out to the taxi rank and got the driver to take me home. He asked me how my night had been, so I told him that it had turned out badly, due to my boyfriend being less than good in bed.

Next day, I contacted Gregor to thank him for the party, and to let him know that Vlad had handled my body, so I had got out of his car at a traffic light.

“It’s a good job you did, Davina, Vlad died in a very hot fire in his bed last night. It was a tragic accident with vodka and a candle. The police are already happy that it was an accident. I’m sorry to see you go, it’s been a pleasure to see how you work. I believe that you’ve achieved everything that you came here to do. On a lighter matter, my government has already advanced me a good sum of money to take over the running of the drama club. Perhaps, when you come back, I can show you a performance worth watching. Sofia sends her love, look after yourself, you are going to make your parents proud. Goodbye.”

Adrianne and I were back in London that night, being picked up as we left the plane and driven to a secure place for our debrief. We were taken through every day, while a recorder was running, and, after midnight we were allowed to go off for a sleep. The following day, they had a statement for each of us to look through and sign. Then we spent two more days going through it all again, adding bits that we had forgotten, as well as more detail, especially about the activation of the code red. No comments were made as we progressed and all the interrogators were men, who looked as if they were getting hot under the collar when I gave them the whole sex scene, blow by blow and thrust by thrust.

On the third morning, we were told to dress to see Helen and were driven to South Bank, with our luggage, where we were escorted to the door that led to the inner sanctum. There, the escorts wished us well and we went in to see what Helen had to say.

She was sitting at her desk, Gloria to one side. We were directed to two chairs in front of her. After we had sat, she tapped two large files on her desk.

“Welcome back. I must say that as I heard of what was going on in Sofia, I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to carry out your directive. Yesterday, Gloria and I read your reports and you have pulled off one of the slickest operations I’ve seen in years. Not only did you force the Russians into killing one of our embassy staff, but you also staged an accident that took out two of theirs without anyone guessing that you had been at the scene. On top of that, our actor’s agency has told me that all three of the actors you sent to them have genuine talent. With this one behind you, we can use Davina Holdsworth again. She now has a genuine back-story that can be verified.”

Gloria was nodding and then added.

“Not only that, but ten minutes after leaving here you had identified our watcher, then identified a suspect in several rape cases, allowing our tail to get the credit. That case is now a slam dunk, his fingerprints match some taken from nearly all the crime scenes.”

“Did the female officer get into trouble for hitting him in the nuts?”

“Well, I believe that she got a public warning, but also a private commendation. Our young agent learned more from getting dropped than he would have if you had allowed him to follow you. It’s made him more determined to try harder. He had a habit of underthinking his tasks, and wasn’t ready for you, having been ordered to ride the rails, to duck into the Grosvenor for lunch.”

“Right!” said Helen. “You two will get a few weeks rest, go off and enjoy yourselves. Then I want to see you back here to take on another operation. Have you any questions?”

I looked her in the eyes,

“I have one simple question.”

“And that is?”

“Where are my parents?”

“Ah. What do you know?”

“I know that I’ve hardly ever been with them since I was born. My nanny was my mother, my teddy was my friend, my schooling was my interest. I only knew them in two, or three, week blocks, about twice a year, until my last year in university. Since then, the agency has been my parents, and has kept me busy almost every day since. If my time in hospital is considered sick leave, I think I would have about two months or more in recreation leave. Gregor told me that they and the Bonds were close friends but haven’t seen them for a good two years. If they’re in deep cover, I won’t ask any more, but I would like to know if they’re alive.”

“All right, I think that you deserve to know. Two years ago, they were given the job to take a large quantity of bullion to a ‘friend’ in one of the African countries. The gold was hidden in the chassis of a camper van, and we have been able to track their travel as far as Abuja, in Nigeria, where the camper was found in a ravine, minus the gold. The vehicle had been partially burnt out, but we could tell that none of their belongings were missing. We recovered their weapons from their hiding place. We can only come to two conclusions. The first is that they were murdered, and the bodies remain unfound. The second is that they went rogue and have, somehow, stolen two tons of gold and spirited it away. All this has no bearing on you, as you have had no contact with them. It’s one of the reasons we spent so much time running you ragged. If you had been in on it, you may have tried to disappear to join them.”

“Wow” whispered Adrianne.

“Wow, indeed, young lady,” Gloria grimaced. “Those two had been the best agents we had for a long time. The thought of them going rogue is just too much to think about, but the alternative is almost as bad. We keep a watching brief on your sisters, Babs, but I very much doubt there would be any contact there. If they don’t turn up in another five years, you will inherit it all, as Barry, of course, but that’s easily circumvented. Their wills that we have on file state that you are their only beneficiary. We don’t want you to have this on your mind, just keep it in the back of your head and see if anyone you speak to, in the future, can throw more light on things.”

“What is my role in this?” asked Adrianne.

“The two of you are a good, no-nonsense team,” stated Helen. “We will keep you together as long as we can. What I suggest now is that the two of you spend a month in your old home, Barbara. You can take the time to relax, but we want you to scour the place, to see if you can come up with any leads. It will yours, eventually, so we have no problems with that. I will tell you that we did put a team in, at the time, and they found nothing. Maybe there could be something that’s not there, that should be there. Anyway, Gloria will give you your usual identifications. We will be in touch if we need you. Now go and relax, that was a masterful job you did. Oh, keep the Davina luggage and papers, you never know when you may need them.”

We retrieved our own paperwork, and I packed my original outfit into the case. I felt a little different now I wasn’t acting as Davina. She had class and good taste, while I was still in the learning stage. I trundled my case back down to the car, then we were off to Adrianne’s place to pack our other cases for a month at my home.

It was a little way to the north-west, outside a village. It sat in a good size block, not acreage but big enough to feel secure. I was happy to see the garden looking reasonable, as I had expected to see it with two years of growth. I retrieved the key from its hiding place under the flowerpot, and we went in, and I turned off the security system. Inside it did look uncared for, with plenty of dust and several spider webs.

Our first job would be to make sure that our bedrooms and the kitchen were cleaned, so I went to the cleaning cupboard. Properly equipped, we started with the kitchen and that took an hour to get it so we could eat without inhaling dust. Then I showed Adrianne where she would sleep, in one of the bedrooms my sisters had used. That took another hour, this time with some extra searching, as well as transporting my sister’s old clothes into the other sister’s room, out of sight.

We brought in her luggage, and she put it away while I investigated the master bedroom. Seeing that the house was mine to use, I decided that I would sleep here. I had started on the cleaning and had changed the bed before Adrianne came to join me. Together, we finished the cleaning, and the searching. Then I got my two cases up and opened them on the bed. This room had his and hers walk-in robe, so I took down all my mothers’ things and added them to the other side, also emptying the drawers and putting her things in with my fathers. I then filled up her side with my things, keeping the Davina outfits separate.

When we had finished that, we took the car and went to a local pub for a meal. Of course, you can’t just walk into a village pub without being asked who you were. I told them that I was Barbara Bond, a result of my father playing away from home, and that Adrianne was my lesbian lover. The fact that we were living in the Bond residence caused a stir, and several locals said that I certainly had the Bond looks. There were even a few comments about ‘that poor little sod, Barry, a child needed more family than he got’, and that’s when I discovered that my nanny was still around.

When we got back to the house, a local policeman was waiting for us, wanting to know who we were and that we were not squatters.

Marianne Gregory © 2023

Chapter 4

The next day we started the cleaning / searching process in the attic, then worked down from there. We found nothing in the attic, nothing in the family bathroom, and nothing in the other bedroom, where we put away all the sister’s clothes.

Next was the one room we hadn’t been in. It was the one I dreaded, my old bedroom. It took an effort to open the door and go in. It looked exactly like it had on the last day I left it. It was a boy’s room, but as I looked, there were feminine touches. The bed was made, something I hadn’t done when I had walked out. And then there was one thing that stopped me dead in my tracks.

“What’s wrong, Babs, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Teddy, on the pillows.”

“So?”

“Last time I saw that, I was taking it to the garage in a box. I was twelve and had decided that grown boys don’t play with teddies.”

She went and picked it up, then handed it to me as I stood, frozen in place.

“He was your only friend?”

“And my confidant. He has a slit in the seam where I would put my notes about how lonely and scared, I was. Most of my life has been a series of scared times. When I was here, from the earliest age I can remember, I was lonely. I was often here, alone with my Nanny, for weeks on end. Boarding school was like a holiday camp for me.

“So, show me the secret compartment and let me read about your young angst.”

When I felt through the slit, I didn’t find something to make her laugh. I pulled out a sheaf of papers and small Bounty Bar.

We took everything down to the kitchen and brewed a pot. I still had Teddy in a tight grip and sat at the table while Adrianne poured. I didn’t know what to think. If the papers were a message from my parents, we would have to pass them on to Helen. If they held any clue as to where they were, or what they did, it would cook their goose. If it was a personal message to me, it would be the first, and that scared me more. I had bolstered my persona by thinking that they had been ciphers, figments of the imagination. Hard hearted and absent, distant, and unfeeling. All that could be shattered as we read what was on the sheets.

“Darling Barry, if you are reading this, you will be in an empty house and know that we aren’t around anymore. We may have died on the job or had an accident. Whatever the reason, we have left our wills with the agency. You inherit everything, the house, the funds, any debts. We hope that, as you read this, you remain strong.
That is something I need to admit, right now, as you have a right to know. You may have wondered why your sisters are so much older than you. I was determined, after them, not to have any more children. That lasted until I met Gregor, a Hungarian agent. You take your stockiness from him and, thankfully, your looks from me. Your father never knew, and I was back home before you were born, so Gregor didn’t know, either. As far as your father was concerned, you were his, and his alone. He is, however, becoming strange, as if he has something other than work on his mind. Sometimes, he frightens me.
I used to read the messages that you left in Teddy, and I would cry. But an agent must be focussed on the job and your father made sure that we remained aloof. We have been given a very dangerous task, so I brought Teddy out of retirement for this last message. If we are successful, I’ll put him back to bed, but, seeing that you’re reading this, we didn’t come back.
I hope that you have a successful career and find a good woman, you deserve more love than I was able to give you.
Love, your mother.”

I was crying as I listened to Adrianne reading it out. So, I had just spent several weeks talking to my birth father and didn’t know it. I would have to find out if he had been with Sofia at the time before I spoke about it.

One of the other sheets of paper had all the various bank accounts that I now had access to, along with all the contacts to work through their estate. The other was an impressive list of accounts, all over the world, that they had opened with agency, or ‘commandeered’ money.

“Ring Helen, she deserves to see this. Ask her to come to the house, we can provide her with lunch, tomorrow, if we go out today and shop. Odd about the Bounty Bar, I used to love the coconut shreds.”

Adrianne held me as I burst into tears, and rocked me, like a mother, as I let a whole life’s worth of regret drain from me. Later, I repaired my face and we looked closely at the two sheets of accounts. It seemed that I was now a well-off woman, more suited to the Davina persona than anything else. When we looked closely at the Bounty Bar, there was a couple of credit cards slid into the opened package, in the name of B. Bond, that matched two of the banks where we had deposits. I idly went to eat a Bounty and found that it had been tampered with. Inside was a deposit box key with a bank logo. Adrianne broke the other bar in two and found another key with the other bank logo. The two bars were put into the bin, as they had not aged well.

Adrianne rang Helen and made the arrangement without telling her much. Before we went to the supermarket, in the next town, she pulled me back to my old bedroom.

“Babs, we need to break the hex this room has over you. You’ll not be complete until you get the one thing you never had, here. That’s love. Last night we told everyone that we were lesbian lovers. Now’s the time to make that the truth.”

Then she kissed me, and I melted. Two hours later, we were freshly showered and dressed in fresh outfits, with a well-stocked credit card and shopping to do. We got a lot of stuff, so much that the store got one of the lads to carry our bags out to the car, and then gave us loyalty cards for future visits. They had a liquor outlet, so we stocked up with some good bottles of wine. After stocking the kitchen with everything for fine eating, we went out again to the local pub for dinner.

That night we slept in the big bed, and I woke with her spooning into my back. I felt sated, I felt wanted, and I felt loved, for the first time in my life. As dawn broke, I sat up in bed and watched her sleep. I wondered how long she had felt this way, seeing that we had lived together for a long time, already. It didn’t matter, as we were now a definite team. I would sacrifice my life to save hers, or, at least, fight off her enemies for as long as I could. I knew that we both would let a man take us to bed, and I wondered if we would ever have a foursome.

She opened her eyes and smiled. I leaned forward and kissed her.

“Not now, lover girl, I need a pee,” she giggled and pulled the sheets back.

I used the ensuite while she went off to the family bathroom. A half an hour later, we were both fully dressed and, in the kitchen, having a proper breakfast, now possible because of our shopping. We didn’t talk about ourselves, there was no need. We both knew that we were together, for a long time. We spent the morning cleaning the rest of the downstairs, so that Helen would see us at our best.

When she arrived, we gave her the lunch, a cold collation that we had put together. Then showed her what we had found. She read through all three papers more than once.

“This throws an interesting light on things. All the time I knew the Bonds, they seemed a loving couple. This note tosses that out of the window. Your father always was the strongest one, but I thought that your mother was close to him in that. This shows them to be more separated than we ever knew. I’ll take the note to show Gloria, along with this list of accounts that we will probably claim as Government assets. I’m sure you realised that this would be the case. The other list is yours, Barbara, and I am happy to see you have something behind you, now.”

As she was leaving, I mentioned that I had heard that my nanny was still alive. She told me that my nanny had been a serving agent but had retired before getting the job. That explained her attitude! Helen knew that she was in a care home and would go and talk to her with this new insight.

“Oh! And carry on with the cleaning, you almost have the place looking good. I’ll get back to you after we look back on your parent’s history. There may be clues that we had overlooked.”

We watched her drive away. Adrianne took my hand as we stood together. It felt good. We then went back into the house to rearrange things, yet again. We cleared all my parent’s things out of the master bedroom and piled them on the unused bed in the other room with my sister’s things, then transferred all of Adrianne’s things into the master walk-in and drawers, so leaving a ready spare should we have guests. After that, we dusted and polished, poked around and generally made sure we hadn’t overlooked any possible hidey hole. After all, a professional team had gone through the house and found nothing. They weren’t to blame for overlooking Teddy.

That night, after our meal, we sat and watched television, before going to bed as a couple. The next day, we had planned our final search. This was to be the detached garage. I was certain that nothing would be hidden in the garden, seeing that someone had been contracted to look after it.

The garage contained a car, not one I knew. They must have bought it before they left. The keys were in the ignition, and it started, reluctantly. We let it warm, and I backed it out, into the open air, so that we could clean it and use it, as it was a good model of a good make.

There were racks along the back wall, and they held boxes, each marked. There was a small pile of empty boxes on the top shelf, which we took inside the house to pack up all of the unwanted things that my parents and sisters had left. Then we took every box down and laid them, side by side, on the garage floor. We carefully went through each one, me having to take it slow when we got to the one that Teddy had been put in, and that still contained mementos of my boyhood.

As we completed each inspection, we put the boxes back, until there was just two remaining. These were odd, as one was marked ‘Harlequin’, while the other was marked ‘Columbine’, and I could never see my parents doing something as trivial as dressing up for a party. The boxes held exactly what was indicated. Both costumes were exquisitely made and must have cost a lot to buy. It was very odd, indeed.

Adrianne grinned and suggested that we would look good in the costumes, so we undressed, there in the garage, and put them on. She was smoking as Harlequin, but the Columbine outfit was just a bit long on me. She laughed and asked me for a dance, so we went to move the boxes out of the way, only to discover that they were heavier than an empty box had any right to be. That put a stop to the fun.

Staying in the costumes, we carried the boxes into the house, and then went out to retrieve our normal clothes. We took it slow, changing back and hanging the costumes in the walk-in. The boxes were put on the kitchen table, and I measured the inside depth against the outside. Each one had a two-inch false bottom.

We took Columbine first, prising the bottom layer up. Inside was a bundle of passports, several bundles of cash from different countries, a pistol, ammunition, and, best of all, several notebooks. Adrianne went and phoned Helen, telling her that we had found two more secret compartments, and that one held some things belonging to my mother. She came back as I was looking at the notebooks.

“Helen told me to stop looking at anything. She is on her way with some professionals to examine everything. She wants them to open your fathers stash, it may contain things we don’t have clearance for.”

I, reluctantly, put the diary I had been looking at back in the box. I had looked at the passports, already, and they were all in different names, but everyone had a picture of my mother.

“I think, that while they’re here, we had better look in those safe deposit boxes. They may also contain things we have no clearance to know.”

She nodded and we sat together, in the lounge, lost in our own thoughts. Eventually, a car came up the driveway and we went out to greet our guests. We firstly showed them the garage, with the boxes, and verified that all the boxes in here were as they were marked. Then we showed them the two boxes on the kitchen table. We left the two guys, now pulling on surgeons’ gloves, and took Helen to show her the costumes. She felt all the seams to see if they held anything.

Adrianne and I went out and started washing down my car, leaving Helen and the professionals to do their job. Finally, Helen came out to us and smiled.

“You girls are just the best. Most would have looked at everything and contaminated the evidence. Your mother’s box, Barbara, was completely normal for an agent. The passports will be taken, the money is yours to spend. The notebooks are, so I’m told, just diaries and I will leave you to read them. If anything stands out, I know you’ll let me know.”

“What about the other box?” asked Adrianne.

“Yes, the other box,” she sighed. “That one is an opener to a can of worms. I’m told that it contains several passports, at least two being Russian issues and both look genuine. There are other items, that I can’t divulge, that point to our best agent being a long-time mole and was that before he married your mother. I’m afraid that it does point to him murdering your mother and taking the gold. I’m sorry, Barbara, but there’s enough there to put a code red on him. There will be a lot of soul-searching for some time to come.”

“While you’re here, with the professionals,” said Adrianne. “We think that you should be present when we open the safe-deposit boxes in the two banks.”

“Good idea, the boys will take everything away when we leave. By the way, I spoke to your old nanny last time I was here. She asked that I pass on her love and good wishes. She told me that there had been tension between your parents after you were born, Barbara, but couldn’t put a finger on why. You were a perfectly healthy boy and should have been the apple of your father’s eye. She said that you were a pleasure to look after and hopes you have a good life. Of course, we now know that he may have suspected that you weren’t his.”

The guys put a couple of paper bags into the back of their car, and then they followed us, me now driving my first car. In the next town, we stopped at one bank, and we all went in. Helen flashed an ID which made the bank manager want to help us in any way he could. I gave him the key with his bank logo on and asked if we could have a private area where we could open the box.

He led us to the lunchroom, which had a table and enough chairs. Then he went off, coming back with the box. We waited until he left, and the door was firmly shut, before I turned the key and stood back. One of the guys, both now wearing the gloves, looked inside, and whistled. I didn’t blame him. There were several jewellery boxes that he took out and put on the table. The other guy opened each one as they came out. I was dazzled by the sparkling stones and luscious gold. After that, came more bundles of cash, some bonds, and another pistol with a box of ammunition. We were collecting an arsenal.

Again, there was a bundle of passports from a variety of countries. My mother must have spent a fortune on these. If it saves your life, however, money is no object. The money and the jewel boxes were returned, and the box closed, to be returned to its safe place. As the pack of passports was being put into a paper bag, the guy stopped and pulled a folded paper from the middle of the bundle. He unfolded it and passed it to Helen. She read it and passed it to me. It was short, but not sweet.

“Barry, if you are now reading this, the one thing that I have dreaded has happened. Your father and I have been arguing for some months, now. He believes that you are not his child, and I can’t make him believe that you are, even if, as you know by now, you really aren’t. He has become more and more erratic, and I do fear for my life. He talks in his sleep and mostly it is about life in retirement, swimming, sailing, wining, and dining. He talks about women, a lot, but all have Russian names, for some reason. During the day he has started to talk about getting enough money to get away from the agency. As you have probably realised, he and I have squirrelled away a lot from our various jobs over the years, pretending that agency funds have been used for bribes. We did get a lot of good information, but I never saw any money change hands. He has said that we need just one big windfall, and he will be away. That’s the thing that worries me, that only he will be away, never we.
All my love, Your loving Mother (really!!!)”
PS look in the Estonian passport.

The guy looked in the Estonian passport, and a key came out with a tag on it. The writing on the tag said, “His secret box, duplicate.” The logo on the key was a bank that is only found in the bigger towns.

“We’ll have to talk to them and find the branch that box is in. The number on the key will tell us that,” said Helen. “This is moving along faster than I would have thought.”

We gave the box back to be returned to the safe room, thanked the manager for his help, then walked a block to the other bank. I was getting richer with every visit, unless the agency decided to want a lot of it back.

At the other bank, the process was repeated, and we were in a board room this time as we opened the box. This one did not contain any money, just weaponry. I saw three pistols, several grenades, a couple of SAS knives. The last thing brought a sweat to my brow, and I wasn’t the only one. It was about two kilos of C4, which was, itself, sweating.

This box also held a key, in an envelope. It was for the same bank. We asked for the box, and it was brought to us. Adrianne was sent off to the local supermarket to buy three good shopping bags, preferably hessian. In the last box, there was a bundle of notebooks, with a range of dates on the cover. Helen had a quick look at one and told me to step back, out of reading range. These were put in evidence bags. When Adrianne came back, the weapons were put in one bag, the C4 in another, and the journals in the third.

We left the bank normally, thanking everyone for their help. Helen stopped at the next phone box and made a couple of calls, making notes before she re-joined us.

“I’m told that there is a playing field, not far from here. The SAS are sending a chopper for the explosive, it must be removed from here. The boys can look after that, here’s the directions. Us girls can have a cup of tea in that café we passed between banks. You boys can join us when you’ve removed that C4, OK?”

The guys nodded and left us, carrying the weapons and the explosive. Helen led us to the café, where we sat at a table.

“Well, you two, it’s been an interesting day. Our Mister Bond is turning out like an onion, the more you peel off, the more there is. From my quick look, these journals his wife left us are full records of every job they did – the real story, not the one they gave us. There will be some old guys getting a visit, soon. Most of those who dealt with them have retired or died. I’m sure that, if he had any inkling of what she was doing, your mother would not have lived long enough to have you, Babs, and we would never have discovered all of this.”

“What now,” asked Adrianne.

“That’s above my pay grade, now. I will pass my report upstairs and I expect that there will be a concerted effort to find our Mister Bond. I also expect that, if he can’t be taken in, a code red will be enforced. How would you feel about killing him, Barbara?”

“He was never a father to me, Helen. I would do it, not that I would take any enjoyment from it, but he will be eliminated – if only for murdering my mother. That makes it personal. I wonder if Gregor has any idea where he may run to, they were friends for years.”

As we sat there, an army chopper came over the town, and passed out of sight. Ten minutes later, we heard the roar as it lifted off and went back over us, now with its deadly load. We ordered another pot of tea and were joined by the guys, now looking a lot more relieved. After everyone had drank their fill, we went back to the cars. Helen hugged the two of us, the guys shook our hands, and they were on their way back to the big city.

We got into my car and sat, in silence, for a while. Then I spoke.

“What now, my love?”

“How about you drive to a service station, top up this lovely car, and then take us to a country pub I know, beside the Thames, and we can have a celebratory dinner. After that, we can go home and cuddle. It’s been a big day, bigger than any I’ve ever had. Turn that key, love, we’ve got a way to go!”

Marianne Gregory © 2023

Chapter 5

The trip into the countryside, followed by a good meal in a riverside pub, was enough to take us down off the high of the day. We didn’t talk about what we had seen, happier to discuss our own past lives. She had known how I went from Barry to Barbara. Now, I found out that going from Adrian to Adrianne was a shotgun blast to the genitals, during a particularly disastrous operation, where two other agents died. She wondered if it had been my father who leaked the details. We would have to wait for Helen to tell us, but I thought that we would need a higher clearance for that.

That night we cuddled together, and I woke the next day with her spooned into my back, her hand resting on my breast. I lay for a while, reveling in the situation, until the bladder took control. Over breakfast, I had a notebook and pen, trying to think of all the things we now had to do. The first was to talk to our gardener, to let him know who was paying the bills. The second was to decide whether Adrianne should give up her home and move in here. The third, for me, was to talk to Gregor.

After tidying up, we sat in the lounge and talked about the recent events. The one thing that had become clear, even without being allowed to see the evidence, was that my father had been a sleeper from his early days. I knew that he had been at Cambridge in the forties, and may have been recruited then, although agency vetting should have looked at him again after the Burgess and McLean debacle. Someone had dropped the ball inside the agency, then based at 54 Broadway, although, at the time it was an ‘old boys club’ and someone entrenched would never be bad. Philby changed all that, in the sixties, but even then, the move from 54 Broadway to Century House may have diverted somebodies’ attention at a crucial time.

My mother was still an enigma, though. Not fully committed to him, but still, on the surface a loving and talented wife. I wasn’t sure that he had killed her now that we knew more about his mind. He may have done something even worse, maybe selling her to a brothel, or giving her away to whoever helped him move the gold. Unless we made sure that we were in the search team, we would never be able to find out. I had an odd feeling about her, in my own mind. That first note had turned my world upside down, and the one in the box added to the turmoil. The problem was that I couldn’t ask her now.

Over the next week we continued to clean and polish in the house. We spoke to the gardener, and he came out to work on the outside, taking in a few suggestions that Adrianne had for plantings. I do believe that he was very taken with her, and probably wondered about a special planting he had in mind. Now that there was nothing covert about the house, we spoke to a company who cleaned and arranged for a weekly spruce up inside. All this vacuuming and dusting had become ‘old’ very quickly, as neither of us were really raised in that world. We also found a local garage who serviced my car, making sure that nothing had gone wrong with its two years in the garage. We then had Adrianne’s car looked at.

In the evenings, we had become regulars at the local pub, attracting the attention of a couple of fit blokes who, obviously, had plans to bring us back ‘from the other side’ if they could. We decided to let them try, but not for a while. It had become a genuine holiday, the first I had enjoyed for some years.

A phone call from Helen summoned us to South Bank. We went in Adrianne’s car, hers having a clearance, while mine would need inspection before it was allowed into the underground garage. Instead of going to her office, we were instructed to go to a meeting room, where we found her, along with Gloria, and the two guys that had come up to the house. They sat around a big table, at the head of which was the boss, with his aides alongside him.

He stood as we entered. I glanced at Helen, who smiled.

“There you are,” the boss said as he came to us and hugged us both. “Take seats and, maybe, we can get some direction out of this situation. Helen, please summarise for our latest arrivals in the higher levels. By the way, girls, your ID will be bumped up before you leave, today. I’ve decided that it’s imperative that you have clearance for this.”

Helen gave a potted history of the two Bond’s record with the agency. She then gave an account of both our shorter records. She then brought everyone up to speed with the failed bullion delivery, and then, using all the evidence that we had found recently, gave an estimated description of the likely events in Nigeria. It took about thirty, very tense minutes, as the boss became more agitated as she continued.

One of the aides was called on next to add any details from the ‘old boy’ perspective. He was, by that time, sweating profusely, and I expect that he was a contemporary of my father, now regretting the drinks at the club he may have attended with him.

That made me think, and I must have shown something in my face, because the boss then looked at me.

“Barbara, you looked as if something has crossed your mind, would you care to enlighten us?”

“Well, sir, I’ve just realised that I never really saw my parents age, but they must have. My father was born in ’25, was at Cambridge in ’44 to ’48. So, he is now in his mid-sixties. Unless he’s a freak, there’s no way he could have shifted two tons of bullion himself, my mother would have had trouble with one bar. This was a retirement project for him, not a means to live on a tropical island with a bunch of bikini babes at his beck and call. He has been a good servant for the Russians, so I would guess that he now has a villa on the coast of the Black Sea. I don’t think he would have mastered the language, so I guess he is in an English-speaking apartment block. The bullion has probably been dispersed among the helpers in Nigeria and the Russians, with enough left over for a good life. I don’t think my mother would have stayed with him, voluntarily, so is either dead or living a ghastly existence somewhere. If she had the means, she would have contacted the agency before now.”

“Well spotted, and close to what we had been discussing before you arrived. We hadn’t zoomed in on a location, though. What do the rest of you think?”

“It’s entirely plausible,” Helen said. “He never liked the winter, so anywhere north would not be a happy place. He is canny enough to be nowhere that we can have easy access, I doubt that he would expect that the robbery scenario would have lasted this long. Luckily, with the passage of time, and the recent discoveries, we can now rule out every other option, other than his theft of the bullion, and his flight to Russia. The only thing that bugs me, is that he liked the social aspect of his life. He may, with the right push, want to visit some brighter lights than Sochi. That may be a chance for us to execute the code red.”

“Exactly, Helen. I want you, and your girls, to mount an operation to flush him out. Recovery of the money, or some of it, would be nice, but not a high priority. Finding his wife would be good, bringing her home would be better. These two agents who looked at the evidence will be at your beck and call, but Bond is a man who could never imagine that a woman is a better agent, so may not suspect one is going to lead to his downfall. You will get a good budget for this. Does anyone have a starting point?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “There is a Hungarian couple in Bulgaria. Gregor and Sofia, who told me that they were long-time friends of the Bonds. They may have picked up on little bits of talk in the past that could pinpoint the location better. I think that Gregor would be angry if we told him that his friend was a Russian spy, and could help us, through the Hungarians, locate our target. I would like your permission to talk to him and reveal whatever it takes to get his assistance. As you know, if you had read all the evidence, he is my birth father and a thoroughly decent man, for a Cultural Attache. I do have a cover that would take me to Sochi if needed.”

“Well said, young lady. That can be the first point of call. Helen, get your section onto this, but keep it quiet within this building. I would hate to think that there are others here, from the era of the Cambridge Five, who could tip him off. Right, let’s get on to it!”

With that, he picked up his notes, smiled at us, and left, accompanied by his aides, one of whom was, I was sure, heading for an interrogation room to find out if they were another sleeper, or just an idiot who had snoozed on the job.

The two guys that we knew came over to us. The older one spoke.

“That was a great thing you two girls did. Getting our hands on the evidence, uncontaminated, was something we hardly ever experience. The contents of the Harlequin box were only slightly damning, but your mother’s diaries exposed him as a liar and cheat. The extra key we recovered turned out to be a deposit box, as we expected, but only contained more passports. The bank records show that it had been accessed just two days before they left the country in the camper. We’ll stay out of your way unless you call. Good hunting.”

They left the room, leaving the four of us. Helen told us to follow her, and we went down to her office, then down the internal corridor, to another door. Inside, I saw a fully equipped control centre, with lots of computer screens and a big table with easy chairs around it. When we were in, Gloria closed the door with a dull thunk, and I knew we were now in a safe zone, probably lined with lead and sound deadened.

Gloria went to a filing cabinet, unlocking it with a key and inputting a number on a keypad. She took out a few thick files, one by one, and laid them in a line on the table. There was one for each of the Bonds and were, I imagine, full details of today’s summary. The third was, I expect, the details of the bullion run. She then closed and relocked the drawer. Then Helen turned to us.

“This room is proof of your new status. It is classified as Top Secret, the existence as well as its contents. There will be nothing, I repeat, nothing, to be taken out of it. You can write notes as you read, but those notes will be added to the file when it’s returned. Now, if you give me your bags and your IDs, I’ll hold on to them and get you your new level entered into the records. It will allow you access to a lot of places in this building, especially after this operation is over. We will leave you to read, there’s a bathroom attached, and I will come for you to take you for lunch.”

With that, they took our bags and left us to it, the door closing now with a rather ominous thunk, akin to having your cell door shutting.

“That’s an interesting morning, so far,” laughed Adrianne, brightly. “This morning we had one good operation under our belt, and now we are in the good books, have Top Secret status and get to read the real information, at the source. I’ll take your parents; you take the bullion grab.”

We sat in the comfortable seats, took our files, and started to read. There was a stack of notebooks on the table with pencils only, so I grabbed one of each and started concentrating. The destination of the bullion did not make any difference to the robbery, so I started from this end. The lead up to them leaving took in the briefings and the precautions to be taken. They left a garage in Tottenham, driving to Dover to take the ferry. They were travelling as a retired couple, off to see the world, with good cover and paperwork. There was a sheet noting the passage through customs, with another of them passing through the French immigration.

Their route took them to Paris, where they stayed in a campsite for several days, and then south, via several tourist spots, to keep the cover going. Going south through France, they seemed to go off track. Instead of following their order to be tourists and meander through Italy and the cross the Med to Egypt, they went south, into Spain, via customs, and then south as far as Almeria. Then, it was on a ferry to Oran. They were two days in Oran, in a camp site, all verified, and then drove south to In Salah. They stayed overnight in a camp site, and then drove to Tamanrasset. It didn’t look like any pensioner trip I could imagine, by this time.

After that, it was a three-day drive to Bourem, in Mali. Then it got interesting. The route now took them southeast to Niamey, then almost directly south to Lagos. The original investigation then showed the discovery of the camper near Abuja. This, to me, looked well and truly odd. It was a good road from Niamey to Abuja, so why Lagos. I got onto the nearest computer and searched for a link with Lagos. After several failed searches, I found that there was an early rail track, a Cape Gauge, no less, that ran from Lagos to Kaduna, north of Abuja.

This was a full twenty-four-hour trip, and it would be a doddle to transfer the gold from one vehicle to another if one was parked behind the other. Where they were, it wouldn’t take much in bribes to make sure there would be a covered flatbed long enough for two vehicles. If my mother wasn’t already buried in the desert sands, she would have no idea that the transfer was taking place. It was this simple fact that made me think that she was still alive, at that point. If she wasn’t there would have been no need for such subterfuge.

I knew that whoever did this investigation would be questioned on this oversight. If the camper was now without the bullion, it was not needed any more. By the same token, nor was my mother. What was needed, now, was a search of passenger lists out of both Kaduna and Abuja. My money was on Kaduna.
I made all my findings clear on the notepad, then tore the sheet off, putting the notepad in the disposal bag, so that the writing impression would never be traced. I sat back and asked Adrianne if she wanted a drink. I went off to the toilet first, and then found a hot drink dispenser, getting us both a milky coffee.

She was still working through his file, so I picked up my mother’s and started with that. We were still looking at the files when the door opened and Helen asked us if we would like lunch, then asked us how we had got on. I asked her to come in and close the door, then took both through my thinking about the trip. When I got to the final ideas, Helen sat back and whistled, while Adrianne got up and hugged me.

My notes were put into the back of the file, and they were put back into the filing cabinet. Then Helen led us further along the corridor to a door, oddly (for this place) with a sign on it that read ‘Canteen’, opening it up and ushering us in. She told us to find a table, have whatever took our fancy, and not to talk to anyone else. Then she left us, no doubt off to appraise the boss of my thoughts.

The Canteen was a good-sized room, with a counter at one end, and chairs and tables set out some distance from each other. A couple of tables had occupants, all girls, who gave us a look as we came in. We had a look at the menu, tacked to the front of the counter, and gave our orders. We sat, well away from the other tables, and talked in low voices.

“Babs, when do you think your mother realised something was wrong?”

“Quite early, I would say, certainly while they were still in France. He may have told her that he had received a message to take a more direct route. She might have stayed fooled until Lagos. I doubt that she would have considered that getting on a train, going away from their destination, was part of the instructions. She may have been drugged, then put on the train as an invalid, I think they may have flown from Kaduna, and, if she was taken, that might give us the edge when we look at the passenger lists.”

Our meals came out and we ate, with gusto, as they were first class. We were drinking tea when Helen came in. She stood next to the table and told us that the boss wanted to see us before she took us back to the safe room.

As we stood, she gave us our new IDs, to be clipped to our collars. They were dark blue, now, like hers, and the occupants of the other tables now looked at us, with more interest, as we left.

This time, she took us up several levels and we found ourselves in a large office with a view across the Thames. He was sitting at his desk as we went in but rose to hug all three of us.

“I don’t know how you girls do it. Without raising a sweat, you revealed one of ours, today, who wasn’t totally one of ours. Not only was he the one who skipped the vetting of our Mister Bond, he was also the one who ‘missed’ seeing that railway connection. He has, as you could say, “Left the building.” This is a case that keeps on giving. Now, I have put a team on searching passenger lists out of Abuja and Kaduna, from the day after the train left Lagos. That’s too time consuming for you girls, you’re needed to keep coming up with new ideas.”

“Sir, we’ve had another since you got our report. We think that my mother may have been drugged at Lagos, or on the train. They should be looking for a couple where the wife needs special attention due to a medical condition, I would think that she was probably in a wheelchair.”

“Good work! I will pass that along. The team is also looking for any areas along the Black Sea coast where there is a predominance of English speakers. That, of course will not be able to be checked until we put someone in the area.”

“I want our girls in Sofia, first,” said Helen. “It’s possible that this Hungarian could provide a lead. They should finish reading through the files today. I’ll organise a flight for tomorrow, and a car to pick them up and take them to Heathrow. Barbara, you should travel as Davina, with Adrianne as your assistant. I don’t want you walking about Sofia on your own, now.”

After a few more words from the boss, we went back down to the safe room. Before she left us to it, again, I asked Helen if I could have a photocopy of the message my mother had left in Teddy. She nodded her understanding. I also asked if she could find out when Gregor and Sofia married. From the files we had already read, I knew that my parents were working in Warsaw in ’63 and ’64.

It was the time that the Warsaw Pact was in its best years, and Mongolia wanted to join it, only to be vetoed. The Russians just put troops on the ground in Mongolia, after that. The thing was that Hungary was also a member of the pact, so would have been a target, not a friend, at the time. This made the affair more interesting and a likely wedge for me to put into Gregor’s armour. I don’t think that his people would be happy with him sleeping with a British spy unless it was operational.

I was born in June, ’65, so the affair took place at the end of ’64. I asked Adrianne to concentrate on my father’s movements between July and December of that year, while I looked at the same period in my mother’s file. Between us, we discovered that he had been in Bucharest from October to December, while my mother had stayed in Warsaw.

That settled, I went back to the trip file and looked hard at the destination. The recipient of the bullion was a well-known despot. At the time he had been wavering between allowing us or the Russians to ‘assist’ him with his country and its advancement. Without the delivery, he leaned towards the Russians. The robbery had a second intent, one that my father, and his contacts, would have welcomed. It may well have been that the bullion had been delivered, but by someone else.

When we left, that day, Helen gave me the photocopy I had asked for, as well as the news that Gregor had married Sofia in Pilis, in the Transdanubian Mountains region of Hungary, in ’74. She had been a drama teacher and they were, by all accounts, a very devoted couple. My parents had been stationed in Bucharest in the late seventies, so that’s probably where they reconnected. He had been stationed in Sofia since ’81.

Back home, we let the gardener and cleaners know that we would be away for a while, then packed our bags as Davina and assistant. We had a night of slow love and deep sleep and were totally refreshed and ready to go when the car came to pick us up, next day.

It was a taxi, driven by the girl who had taken me to Victoria Station, now so long ago. She remained quiet, as did we, on the way to Heathrow, where she dropped us off at the terminal and gave us a little wave and a smile as she pulled away from the kerb.

Here we were, again, about to take off for foreign lands. We checked in, first class, as befitting the Davina cover, and waited until our flight was called, doing a little shopping in the duty-free. Then we were boarded and took off towards another new adventure.

Marianne Gregory © 2023

Chapter 6

When we had cleared customs in Sofia, there was a driver with a board saying ‘Holdsworth’ on it. In the car he took us to our hotel. We checked into the hotel and our bags were carried up to the room. Tipping the two boys as they left, we closed the door. We freshened up, changed into jeans and tops, then went down to the reception, booking a dinner table for two, before walking outside and stretching our legs doing a little bit of sight-seeing.

I bought a local paper from a kiosk and looked through it for shows. There was one that caught my eye. It was the same drama company that my previous target had worked with, now with Gregor as the producer.

We strolled to the theatre and bought two tickets for the opening night. The play was Ivanov, one of Chekhov’s early works. We went back to the hotel, ate, and went up to one of the softest beds I have ever slept in. We did the tourist bit until the night of the play. One trip we did, by taxi, was to the Park Aerogara, where he drove us up to the turn-around. We asked him to stay and got out. As we had seen from the tourist map, a few yards from where we stood was a wide amphitheatre. I supposed that there was quiet periods when there would be no planes coming in or taking off from the airport, next door. We got him to take us to other parks, and, when he asked, I told him that we were looking at settings for an outdoor wedding.

On the night of the show, we dressed in our finery, made sure our make-up was perfect, and got a taxi to the theatre, not wanting to walk that far in heels. When we entered the foyer, the first person to see us was Sofia, talking to some dignitaries. She gave us a wave and pointed to some seats along the wall. We went and sat until she had finished her discussion. When she came over to us, I rose, and we hugged.

“Welcome back to Sofia. Gregor will be over the moon to see you again. You’ve no idea how happy he’s been since taking over the drama group. I saw the rehearsal to this play, and it’s good. We have several new faces in the club, now, several Russians. I think they still need to get alongside the other members. Surprisingly, a few have turned out to be fine actors.”

I introduced Adrianne, my assistant, and Sofia wanted to know where we were sitting. When I showed her the tickets, she huffed and stalked off to the box office with them, coming back with a pair, in her row, and told me that I was sitting next to Gregor. The man, himself, then came up to us and hugged all three of us. Telling me that I was more than welcome to critique the play for him, which would save him having to think of his column, again.

The play was spoken in Russian, but there were transcripts you could buy, in several languages. That was an eye-opener, for a start, and allowed me to follow the deep plot and complex characters. It was lovely, in the intermission, to be talking to a few of the local dignitaries, who were praising the new look of the drama club. For a bunch of amateurs, they were good.

At the end of the play, when the lead actor commits suicide on stage – well, it is a Russian play – there was good applause. Gregor turned to me and said what was on his mind.

“I hope that you’re not here to take away any of my actors. They’re mine, I tell you, mine!”

“Not this visit, Gregor,” I laughed. “Although the two who played Nikolai and Eugene would go well anywhere.”

“They’re both newbies, from the Russian Embassy. The one who plays Eugene is a genuine font of knowledge - about Russian theatre, of course.”

As we went back to the foyer, he invited us to the hotel, around the corner, to meet the cast when they had changed. It was an interesting night of drink and a lot of laughter. Adrianne got into a conversation with the lighting manager, from the British Embassy, while Gregor introduced me to the cast as ‘Davina, who took three of our mediocre actors on her last visit and has given them parts on British TV’, then grinned and told them that he had put them all out of bounds, at least for this season.

At the end of the evening, he went and retrieved his car, taking us back to the hotel, before going home with Sofia. At the hotel, he stopped and then spoke quietly.

“I hope that this is a social call, Davina. The last time you were here was almost too much for my heart.”

“It is mainly social, but there is something serious I want to talk to you about. Can you meet us at the amphitheatre in the Aerogara Park, sometime tomorrow? You as well, Sofia.”

“All right, we will be there at eleven. If you two are alone, so will we be alone.”

“You have my word, Gregor, there will be just the two of us, no back-up, no recording equipment and no watchers.”

He nodded. “We will see you then.”

Back up in our hotel room, we carefully took off our good dresses. Adrianne was quiet, then spoke.

“That little party was amazing. There were people from at least seven different embassies. No wonder that Vlad ran it so tightly, it must be a goldmine of tittle-tattle.”

We went through the process of getting ready for bed, then held each other as we dozed off to a slightly fuzzy sleep. No doubt, she was thinking the same as I was. Tomorrow will be the crunch day.

After breakfast, in our room, we dressed for hiking – jeans, sweater, low boots and minimal make-up, and we hugged before leaving the room. We took a taxi to the airport, then waited until it had left to walk to the park and around the lake to the seating. There, we sat and looked out over the lake as airliners took off and landed on the other side of the fence line. Eventually, we saw a car come and park in the turn-around. Gregor and Sofia got out and came over to us.

We stood and we had a general hugging session. We then opened our bags to show that we had nothing. Sofia followed suit, while Gregor just opened his coat to flash his shoulder holster. We then walked along a path by the lake.

“Gregor and Sofia,” I began. “What I am going to say is classed as Top Secret by my government. The first thing I want to get out of the way is if Sofia is at that level, I expect that with your job, you are.”

“I can vouch that she is at that level, Davina. You will have guessed that we are both agents for Hungary, Sofia has a nice little line with the baked goods. She is in and out of nearly every embassy in town. I want to openly thank you for that operation you pulled, last time you were here. Taking Vlad out of the picture was one of the cleanest black ops I’ve seen. He wasn’t a nice man, and the whole town is much more open with their comments without him standing over them.”

“All right. Adrianne and I are at the same level. We want to tell you about a little operation our government had, that went drastically wrong. But first, I want to tell you that I know about Warsaw towards the end of ’64.”

He stopped dead. I stood in front of him and gave him the photocopy of the note.

I waited until he read it, then looked him in the eyes, both on the same level.

“Both the Bonds were tall. Sofia said that I have my mother’s eyes, well, I think I have my father’s stature.”

“But this is addressed to Barry?”

“That was what I was christened and remained until an operational error with a parachute jump led me down the path to who I am now.”

“So, you were my son that I never knew I had, and now my daughter?”

There were tears in both our eyes as he hugged me tightly. Sofia took the paper out of his hand and read it. She then gave out a hoot of laughter.”

“So, you were Bond – Barry Bond?”

I disengaged myself and looked at her.

“Hey, that was my line. It’s Barbara Bond now, when I’m not under cover.”

“To us, you will always be our wayward daughter, Davina.”

Then she hugged me as well.

“We never knew them as the Bonds,” Gregor mused. “They were always something else, and always different. Thank you for telling us this in private. My government would court-marshal me if they knew that I had an affair with a British agent. Not only that, but remaining friends afterwards would see me shot. You now have me chomping at the bit to know what else you have to say.”

“I don’t know how to break this to you gently. My father was recruited by the Russians in the forties, remained a double agent all the time you knew him, and disappeared in Africa, not long after you last saw him, along with my mother and two tons of gold bullion.”

That stopped them both dead in their tracks.

“The whole time, he was working for the Russians?”

“I’m afraid so. I didn’t know about any of this until I found that note. We made a new search of the house and came up with enough passports to take two cricket teams on holiday. Why I’m here is to ask you to think about all the times you were with them. Did he say anything about his retirement? Did he offer any idea about where he could be now? I can tell you that this has all been said with the full approval of the head of the SIS. We have already issued a code red on him; he is now walking around with a price for his head."

We turned around and walked back to his car. Both were deep in thought, no doubt wondering how they had been taken in. He offered to take us back to the hotel, and the drive was in silence. At the hotel, we got out, and so did Sofia. She hugged us both, Adrianne first. When she hugged me, she whispered in my ear.

“We’ll have a good think about this, my wonderful new daughter. Don’t tell your partner, but I’m really Gregor’s controller, as well as his wife. Stay in town until we get back to you.”

She got back in, and he drove away.

“That put the cat into the pigeon house,” quipped Adrianne. “Even though I said nothing, that was the most dramatic meeting I’ve ever been in.”

“I think I need lunch and a stiff drink; I’m shattered after that.”

It took three days until we were invited to a dinner party at their apartment. We dressed well, in cocktail dresses, and a car was waiting for us at reception. I had the feeling that the driver was from the Hungarian Embassy, and the car was a lot better than a taxi. When we stopped, he got out and opened the door for us. As I stood, I sneaked a look into his jacket and saw the distinct shape of a gun in a shoulder holster.

Sofia must have been looking out for us, as she opened the door of the complex and hugged us before leading us to the lift. On the way up, she smiled.

“Don’t be surprised with who you see, tonight. We are all friends, here, more so than I ever would have thought. I took your news upstairs and got an amazing result.”

In the apartment, we were warmly greeted by Gregor, looking somewhat distracted. We were then introduced to the Hungarian Ambassador, and ‘Mister ‘X’ our spy-in-residence’. I had seen this guy around when I was here last. He had been on the periphery of the drama group.

“How wonderful to be able to meet you, in private,” he said in perfect English. “Your operation last time you were here is still being discussed back in the office. No-one can quite believe how you managed to get Vlad to kill a British diplomat, the fall-out of that, alone, has altered the balance of power in this town. Half the countries who had leaned towards the Russians now don’t trust them.”

“That’s for me to know, and you to think about some more,” I smiled. “I’ll just give you a one-word hint – ego.”

We sat at their dining table, and the meal was served by two women who I guessed were embassy staff. With the Ambassadorial car in the street, he expected more than home cooking. It was delicious and the talk was mainly small talk, about the drama group, the way the city was evolving, some chit-chat about other embassies, and it was a very much ‘getting to know you’ affair.

Afterwards, we were sitting in the lounge, with snifters of a good brandy, when the Ambassador cleared his throat and took control of the room.

“I have to say that I find this a very strange situation. You brought some information to my friends, here, that I find disturbing, to say the least. It’s not a usual thing for us to talk openly but you scratched our back, now I must scratch yours. I knew the couple you have now told us were called the Bonds. I find that name hilarious, but not what he has done. Your information has allowed our government to have closure on cases that go back nearly thirty years. I, myself, was taken in during the early days of the Warsaw Pact. I gave him information that I now know took down more than one cell. I have more reason to kill him than anyone else in this room. He caused the death of several of my compatriots, as well, as my first wife, who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He stopped to take a drink, and ‘Mister X’ took over.

“Our service had been aware that Gregor had an affair with your mother. What we didn’t know was that there was a child from it. We put it down to youthful energy, and he knew nothing, at the time, that could cause any trouble. The reunion with the Bonds, later, was a bonus, having one of ours in a relationship with one of yours. We are devastated that one of them was a Russian spy. But we must move forward. I have put out feelers to my friends in other services, letting them know that we have suspicions and that they have disappeared. We have discovered that the two of them were seen in Belarus, with her in a wheelchair. We have found that they flew from there to Sochi but have no definite location.”

“That’s what we surmised,” I nodded. “Thank you for that. I suppose that you want to know about his final crime?”

“If you can?” sighed the Ambassador.

“The short story is this. They were given the job to take two tons of bullion to southern Africa, to help a minor despot look at us with gratitude. It all changed in France, and they went directly south, into Spain, across to Oran, and then down to Lagos. We believe that the gold was transferred while traveling, by train, to Kaduna. The camper was found near Abuja, their clothes, and weapons still in it, but no gold. The despot went towards the Russians after that.”

Adrianne had remained quiet, and the Ambassador looked at her.

“And what has been your part in all of this, young lady?”

“I was assigned to Davina at the beginning of her transition, then I was here as her contact when she was here before. We have both read all the files and made the connections that lead us to being here, tonight. We’ve been together now, as a team, for some time.”

“Good girl,” smiled the Ambassador. “That gels with the little we know of you, so I know you are both telling the truth. Tell me, do you have nightmares about the shotgun?”

“Not anymore, sir. It seems that nothing is secret. I did have nightmares when I was told how Barry was injured in a similar fashion. If I still had my nuts, I would have been crossing my legs when I thought about that.”

I saw all three guys go slightly white, and then the Ambassador was all business again.

“Do you have a plan? You can call on us at any time if you need help. We can give you a code word that you can tell any of our Cultural Attaches anywhere in the world.”

“We’re just gaining the information at the moment,” I admitted. “When we know where they are, we can think about it then. It would be easier to just take him out where he lives, but I think our government wants him back to wring him dry. I’ve been told that recovering the bullion is not a priority, with the recovery of my mother only slightly above that.”

“Good, you’re not getting ahead of yourselves. I can tell you that Gregor and Sofia have only added to their reputation by bringing this to us. I spent many years in the field, so I know that having someone tell the truth, in this game, is a not a common occurrence. I’m very pleased to have met you two, very brave girls. If you’re in town again, you must come along to one of our dinners at the Embassy. Now, my driver will take you back to your hotel, I need to stay here for more talking. The driver will give you the envelope with the codeword. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have had more drink than my bladder can hold.”

We were ushered out of the apartment, with hugs and kisses, and ‘Mister X’ escorted us down to the car. He opened the rear door, told the driver that it was all right, then bade us goodnight with the parting words.

“Goodnight, ladies, I just wish I could have you in my team. You both are out of the box. I hope the SIS appreciate what they have with you.”

On the way, the driver passed over an envelope, which Adrianne put into her bag. He let us out at the hotel and then left to go back to the apartment complex. We didn’t say much, too wrapped in our thoughts.

Next morning, while we were having breakfast, Adrianne commented that it was weird that they had known so much about us.

“Yes, the more you do, the bigger the file. I think we would have files on their agents. I think we have done what we needed to do, now we know that they both went from Belarus to Sochi. You don’t carry bullion on a plane, so we have to say that it’s now well gone. Let’s book our flight out, this afternoon, if possible.”

Adrianne did her admin thing, getting us on a flight via Hanover that left at four. We used the morning to pack our things, and Adrianne called our embassy to arrange a car to take us to the airport. We then went down to get lunch and check out of the room.

The car was outside at two, as arranged, and took us to the airport. The driver was getting our bags out of the car when Adrianne gave a little gasp and put her hand on his arm.

“Do you see those beefy guys just along there, putting those duffle bags into that van?”

He and I looked. The guys were chunky, to say the least.

“Try and get the number of that van as you leave, I think those four are a Russian hit squad. The one in the red jacket was holding a shotgun pointing towards my nuts the last time I saw him. He wouldn’t know me now unless they have pictures of the two of us.”

We carried on as if we had nothing on our minds but did it with our backs toward the Russians. We both gave the driver a kiss on the cheek, and I whispered to him.

“Tell the top spook. I think that lot are here for revenge.”

The van was pulling away from the kerb as we waved our goodbye and went into the terminal.

“That was close,” I mused. “That must have been your last memory as a boy.”

“If I had a gun, I would have shot him, there and then, and hang the consequences.”

“That wouldn’t have solved thing, darling Adrianne, but there’s something going on and I think we must remain here to see where this will lead. They don’t know that I eliminated Vlad, so, if it’s linked to the drama club, they must be after Gregor. The Russians usually import someone for the dirty work.”

While Adrianne looked after the bags, I first rang Gregor at home. Sofia answered. I told her what we had just seen and that one of them was responsible for my partners’ current look. She said that she would make sure that there’s a rise in security. I then offered to help.

“Sofia, we have tickets home, via Germany. I can see if I can get them changed. Is there one of your embassies, somewhere close, that can give us assistance. We would just need Bulgarian ID. We could change our appearance and come back, by train, and remain in the background. One of us wants to even the ledger.”

“I can do better than that. There is a safe house where you can go, where we can supply everything. Get changed and wait outside the terminal. I’ll come and get you.”

We went into the toilets and changed in cubicles. When we came out, we looked like a couple of hikers. We bought backpacks and caps from the shop and threaded our ponytails through the gap at the back. We then found the lockers, and deposited our bags, paying for a week, after putting all our needed items in the backpacks.

We had to wave Sofia down as she drove slowly by. She stopped and we were quickly in the back seat. She drove out to a suburb of detached houses, pointing one out as we drove by, then letting us out of the car a street away, pointing out a way to get to the house from the back. Thanking her, we got out and walked away.

When we got to the back of the house, the door opened, and our friendly Mister X ushered us in. There was another guy, in the kitchen, who wasn’t introduced, but sat with a drawing pad and pencils in front of him. We had to describe each of the Russians, as best we could. Of course, Adrianne could describe one very well. When we had done what we could, there were the four pictures that could be checked against photos, and the artist nodded to us as he left, no doubt going to his embassy where he would do just that.

Mister X then looked at us, with a smile.

“So, how are we going to give the Russians something to chew on, then?”

Marianne Gregory © 2023

Chapter 7

“Firstly,” I said. “I think that one of the new members in the drama class has been telling his boss about the flow of information. They probably used to get snippets from Vlad, without knowing exactly where he got them from. We can use that to lure the unit to somewhere that is away from oversight, where we can just eliminate them. I saw that the Arrivals Board had a flight that had landed from Belarus. It was Aeroflot, so those duffle bags they were carrying could have been heavy weaponry, they looked bulky enough.”

“I agree,’ nodded X, “We can’t stop them if they want to put an RPG into the theatre, or even through the window of his apartment. We got word from your people that the Russians were in town. We may all be in the Pact, but every spook in town are looking out for them, so we should find out what they’re interested in. That way, we might work out a way to eliminate them.”

We spent three days in the safe house, with our friendly Hungarian feeding us information as it came to him. The first thing we did learn was that his middle name was Xavier, which made the ‘X’ thing mildly funny. With the advance notice that we had been able to give them, nearly every ‘friendly’ embassy was helping. No-one wanted the Russians to do ‘wet work’ in Sofia and upset the even balance. Up until now it had been a place where everyone mixed in and just gained information. No-one trusted the Russians in these times, and even the long-time Pact members were tiring of the hard-nosed tyranny.

The hit squad didn’t have a chance to go anywhere without someone on their tail, and, when they did go out, it was the theatre that was the first call, to buy two tickets for the next play. We had a conference and decided that this would be a look around, rather than a hit in a crowded theatre. Xavier wondered if they would come back, during the day, when there would only be rehearsals going on.

On the night of the play, we were across the street, just hanging out, as they turned up. Two got out the back to go to the entrance, while the other two stayed in the car, driving around the corner to park. Those two stayed in the front of the car the whole time the others were in the theatre. They came out at intermission and went around the corner, got in the back, and left the area. It looked as if that would be the sequence when they came back.

Gregor reported that the few Russians in his group had called in to say that they had a special project to complete, in two days’ time, so wouldn’t be at rehearsal, that afternoon. That was our signal to get ready. We had asked Xavier to supply us with two silenced revolvers that took long cartridge twenty-twos, and to have them loaded with light-load dum-dums.

That afternoon, the theatre contained about ten, heavily armed agents from six different embassies. They were there to scare the Russians off, rather than kill them. Adrianne and I were tarted up to look like a couple of street walkers, with bags big enough to take the guns, and another thing we had asked for.

We stayed out of sight, along with a British agent with a radio. When we heard that the car had stopped by the theatre, we started moving. The car came around the corner and stopped, the engine running. We started arguing as we got near it, me in Bulgarian, her in Russian. Learning it had been something to keep her occupied as she healed, always hoping she would get revenge.

By the car she caught my arm and pulled me around so that I hit the side of the car with my back. The driver put his window down to tell us to go away, and that’s when Adrianne put two dum-dums into his head, with a double tap to the passenger, the guy who had been the one with the shotgun, all those years ago. She had two remaining in her gun, which she emptied into his groin. He wouldn’t feel it, but it gave her closure.

We opened the back door, and I got inside, pulling out two hand grenades from my bag. I pulled the pin from each one and lodged them between the drivers’ body and the car seat. They both had fishing line attached to them, which I carefully tensioned and tied to the closed back door. I then got out and closed the door. We then walked away from the car and along the street, merging with the few shoppers. We were a street away when a double explosion echoed between the buildings.

Back at the safe house, and back into the jeans and tops, we were told that the plan worked as it was meant to. When the two Russians had gone into the theatre, they were faced with a wall of guns pointed at them. They had been told that they had five seconds to leave, or be shot, so turned and left the building in a hurry. As we had hoped, they didn’t look too hard in the car before diving into the back seats, only to be blown to bits two seconds later. When the car was examined by the police, a lot of bits of weapons were found, and, with a helpful hint that the victims were a hit squad, it was quickly decided that they had been killed by accident, from their own explosives. Using revolvers meant that we hadn’t left any unusual brass at the scene.

By that time, Adrianne and I had left the city and had flown back to London, Davina and her assistant taking a few extra days break, should anyone ask. Helen did ask, and she was the only one given the full story, as we sat in the confines of the control room, with the door locked. She hugged Adrianne and told her that she could now think better, with that grudge no longer on her mind. Then we got to work, trying to find the Bonds.

There wasn’t much we could do but sift through the reports and ask for CCTV tapes from the airports around that area. We sat, looking at screens, until we could hardly see. There were a couple of reported sightings, but when we put a man at the scene, they turned out to be innocent look-alikes. We earned our pay by doing short-term surveillance jobs within the country, also gaining brownie points with the MI5 guys. The two of us were in demand for our ability to change our looks and blend with whatever crowd we were thrown into. I think some of the guys just wanted to look at us.

Oddly, it was the home spooks that gave us a new lead. The whole list of passport names that we had found in the various hiding places were sent to our local brothers. One of them, from my mothers’ collection, had been used as identification at Dover, a few years ago. It was not a British passport, and Immigration had pulled her aside to check with their lists. They had interviewed her and let her through. In the notes she had told them that she was going to stay in a hotel in Cardiff.

At the Marriott, they were helpful. In fact, they were more than helpful. The ledger showed that the woman who had used that name had stayed in a single room for three days. What caught my eye was another visitor, in the adjoining room, using the most popular given name among my father’s aliases. There was a note alongside that name that the person had only stayed one night and left a case behind, which was still in the lost luggage cupboard. They had a policy to hold lost luggage for five years before sending it to auction. Showing the Special Branch warrants, that we just happened to have with us, was enough to get it transferred to our keeping.

I asked the manager what was happening in Cardiff at that time, and he looked in his old diary. The biggest event had been a rugby international at the Cardiff Arms Park, not far away. We took the case with us and went back to London. A quick check of the files showed that they had both been working in France at the time, in a job where being missing for a few days wasn’t enough to raise an alarm. A check with Emigration found that people with the two names had gone back to France, on the ferry, the day after the woman had checked out of the hotel. So, he had spent two days totally out of sight.

Adrianne posed the question. “If the notion about the bullion delivery was being discussed, could the Bonds have known that they would be part of it?”

I countered with one of my own. “If the Russians were already talking to our less than friendly dictator, could they have put it into his mind to ask us for the bullion? If that was the case, could the whole debacle have been a Russian plot.?”
The case now became an item of interest and was opened with our two extra helpers to oversee the great reveal. Inside, we found clothes in my fathers’ size, all from German stores, as well as pamphlets from Russian beauty spots. All of these were in the southern and Black Sea areas. We spent a day going through them, looking for likely places they may now be living. One thing that stood out was a tourist map of Sukhumi, in Georgia.

Very close inspection with various light wavelengths showed a faint imprint of part of a name of some sort of hospital, or rehabilitation centre. Our specialists on Georgia were adamant that Georgia was not a place to be now. We were late into the eighties and there was a feeling of unrest between the indigenous citizens, the Georgian immigrants, and the Russian overlords. We sat with Helen and discussed the timing. Adrianne was sure that the timing was right. We could go into Georgia as journalists from another Pact member. I had enough Bulgarian to get by and she was good with the Russian, our two visits to Sofia being a good revision for her.

So, a plan was hatched. It would involve the two of us going to Sofia, yet again. There, we would be given new identities as freelance journalists, with links to the local language paper as well as a Russian language paper. We would go to Sochi, then take the train to Sukhumi. Our luggage would be carried in two backpacks, no weapons allowed. We would each have ten rolls of film for the Zenit 35mm SLR cameras that we will be given. These were over twenty years old but had been given a full overhaul. Like most things Russian at that time, they would work in a blizzard.

So, in early 1989, we were off again. At Sofia we were given our new identities, including press passes. We spent two days getting used to the cameras by walking around the city and interviewing strangers about what they thought of the state of the world and taking pictures of them. These would be in the papers once we had left, to give us an extra background. I don’t know how Xavier had fixed this, but I expected that there may be an unofficial old boys’ network going on.

Our travel, from there, was anything but simple. We got on a train to the port at Varna, where we got the next ferry going to Poti. Then, after the more than two-day voyage, we were on a bus to Tbilisi, where we checked in with the Hungarian Embassy to meet our contact. The plan was for him to come to Sukhumi, every two weeks, to pick up our copy for the papers, along with any unprocessed film we had. That would go, by diplomatic bag, to Sofia. Our job would be to convey our progress in a way that looked like part of a genuine story.

After resting up in Tbilisi, we were back on a train to Sochi, a bit of a long way round, but it did not have any border crossing from Russia. We had a week in Sochi, talking to the people that would talk to us, Adrianne sounding more Russian as the days passed. We concentrated on seeking out those who had come into the town recently, following the strong earthquake of December, the previous year, which had displaced a lot of Abkahaz and Shirak families, as well as a number of Armenians. This way, we could get some insight into the area we would be going to next. A few of our interviewees were happy to tell us about their old home, and some had even gone to Sukhumi for holidays.

We would spend our evenings writing out our stories from our notes and adding the lists of the photos we had taken. It was something we found that we enjoyed. At the end of February, we took the train to our destination. We asked, at the station, if there were any places where we could stay, and found a small backpackers hotel. We had a couple of days wandering the town, and, especially, the sea front, the vague location of the hospital that was on the tourist map.

Our specialists were right when they had warned us off. The place was a hotbed of tensions. We spoke to several people who complained about their treatment from everyone else. No-one was left out. Our contact came into town at the end of that week. We met him at a pre-arranged café, and he told us that the situation in Tbilisi wasn’t much better. Tempers were becoming frayed all over the country, and there was a growing anti-Russian movement.

Over the next few weeks, we became totally engrossed in the local affairs. We did find a hospital, well, more a rehabilitation centre, that was beside the sea, just down the road from the site of a planned new hotel. Across the road was a soccer field and swimming pool, and, on the sea front, several bars and even an ice cream seller.

We were at one of the bars, on a sunny but cool day, when the doors of the hospital opened and several orderlies, in white coats, wheeled a dozen or so patients to the edge of the promenade, made sure their chairs were locked, and then went back into the hospital. We finished our drinks, picked up our notebooks and cameras, and wandered along the promenade to see what we could find out. Of the seated patients, only four were well enough to talk to us. One that sat with pinprick eyes, staring at nothing, was my mother!

We spoke to the few who could discuss their life with some clarity. It was a set of wonderful stories about caste discrimination, ageism, and every sort of hardship that one could live through. All these stories, along with the photos, went back to Sofia, and then on to London, with the next visit by our contact. The weather closed down for a couple of weeks after, so we didn’t see the wheelchairs again. Our contact, when we met him, told us that Tbilisi was a powder-keg, just waiting for a torch.

He was right about that. On April 9th, there was a big anti-Soviet protest in Tbilisi, and it was put down in the usual Russian way – by baton and spade. It left over twenty dead and hundreds injured. The action started on the 4th, when tens of thousands of Georgians gathered in front of the Government House. The Commander of the Military District mobilised his troops on the 8th and ordered them to clear the area on the 9th. The excuse was that the protesters had thrown stones at ‘unarmed’ Russian soldiers. The civilians were beaten by baton and severely injured by spade blows. Much of the slaughter was captured on film and led to being evidence in a subsequent hearing into the event. The soldiers even attacked the ambulances brought in to tend the wounded. One short film captured a young boy beating a tank with a piece of wood. This became the rallying image of the Georgian uprising.

In Sukhumi, we were safe from all that, but our movements were seriously hampered by a more active Russian presence. We kept up with our reporting, however, and were able to send back some good stories and pictures of a town where the temperature was rising, and that wasn’t because of the season.

Our contact had something for us with his next visit, two packs of film, and a letter addressed to me, in Bulgarian. When I opened it, I saw a commendation from my friend, Gloria, with the comment that the pin-eyed lady we had sent the picture of, looked as if she didn’t have long for this world, the poor dear.

That was the final decision, my mother had been given a code-red, due to her condition, and it would be up to me to despatch her. We didn’t go near that part of the sea front until a sunny day in May. Then, we made sure that we were there when the wheelchairs came out. They parked them at random, my mother at the end of the row, with only two of the more intelligent ones at the other end. We chatted to the ones who were able, finding out how things were in the hospital. We did our usual routine, making notes and taking a couple of pictures.

We then moved along the row, speaking to those who just sat there with over-the-horizon stares. When we got to the last chair, I quietly took a hypodermic syringe from my pocket. With my time with the SAS, I had been taught how to administer morphine through uniforms, finding a vein and drawing a little blood into the syringe to prove that I was in the right place. Today, however, instead of morphine, all I injected into the vein was air while Adrianne stayed between me and the other patients. It didn’t take long, and I looked into her face as I wished her “God Speed”.

We walked, in silence, along the promenade for a while, and then came back, just as the attendants came out to take the chairs back inside. I could tell from the reeling back, when they got to her, that she had lost control of her bowels, no doubt as she died from the embolism. We stayed well away, while Adrianne changed to her longer lens. I talked to her, keeping between her and the orderlies, while she took photos and kept up a running commentary. They sent one back into the building and he returned with a gurney. They laid the body bag on the ground and, no doubt holding their breath, lifted her off the chair and on the open bag. When she was lifted onto the gurney, they took it, and the chair, back to the entrance. The gurney was taken inside, while the chair was hosed down over a garden bed. The roses could be good this summer. Back at the hostel, I put the needle in the sharps box, rinsed the syringe with hot water and put it back in the drawer of the first aid kit, where I had taken it from, this morning.

That evening, and then over the next few days, we stayed around the vicinity. We were rewarded on the third day, when a car parked in the side road, and my father walked into the hospital. This was something that we had planned for. When we had first found my mother, we had asked our contact to bring us a tracking bug and a receiver, made to look like a transistor radio. We had also acquired a small scooter.

We wandered past the car, and I dropped my bag, fitting the bug under the rear wheel arch. It had a range of about five kilometres, so we could hang back. We went back to the bar and waited until he came out again, standing at the main doors and talking to a rather large man, before shaking hands and going to his car to drive away. My camera was on the table, pointed their way, and I took several pictures.

We drained our glasses and walked to where we had parked the scooter. I drove while Adrianne turned the receiver on, put the bud in her ear and then fixed her helmet. The sound from the bug would be louder as we got closer, so I could just steer the scooter until Adrianne tapped my shoulder and told me that we were going away. I turned around and ten minutes later I saw her hand in front of my eyes with the thumb up.

It took a while, but eventually we found ourselves on the main road south, with the bug keeping the same distance in front. The road is just inland from a railway track, the main line along the coast and a popular tourist route. This remained the situation as we crossed the Dziguta Bridge and approached the Abkahazian University when Adrianne tapped my shoulder, and her hand came into my vision with the thumb down. I turned us around and we went back along the road, more slowly.

The signal was obviously coming from our right, and we stopped at a roadway that led off that way. We went slowly on the side-road, past some building sites, and climbed a little. There were woods to our right, and the houses to our left. We didn’t need the tracker signal when we saw the car parked in one of them, a detached house, set slightly back from the road. We went past, and then turned around several hundred metres further on, easing back past the house in neutral while Adrianne took pictures as we coasted by.

I considered it a good day, so we celebrated with a meal out. It wasn’t fancy, but it was cheap and filling. On top of that, we were spoken to by a couple of local guys we had met before and allowed them to take us home with them. I arrived at our lodgings around midnight, my guy having taken me back to the café to collect the scooter. Adrianne got home about half an hour later, and we both slept like contented cats until morning.

The next few days were damp and overcast, so we went to our fall-back jobs to keep the cover going. We had been ticking off visits to all the ancient sites, museums, and attractions, putting together stories about the town. These went off, with the rest of our copy, and was a good excuse to be here. If anyone asked, we were putting together a series that would promote the area, once summer arrived, and that we would be doing this through Spring, to get the full range of colours of the resort.

It also allowed us to talk, privately, out in the open air, often drowned out by the traffic or construction noise. The morning after our night out, Adrianne mentioned that her guy was involved with the separatist movement and had warned her that there was a lift in the tensions. She said that it seemed that many of the separatists were starting to talk about violence. There had been a declaration of Independence back in March, which had led to the massacre in Tbilisi in April. During all of this time, there was a great deal of tension between Georgia and the Abkhaz people. The Georgians were sure that Abkhazia was part of Georgia, while the Abkhaz people had never accepted this.

There had been skirmishes while we had been here, and we had even managed to get pictures of some of the fighting, but it had not intruded into our own task. Most took us as outsiders, here to promote the city, and were usually friendly. Our old lady friends on the esplanade were back on the first sunny day, so we had a stroll and spoke to the regulars who would speak to us. Well, I say ‘us’, but it was Adrianne who could converse in Russian, with me picking up the odd word or two.

That sunny day, we found out a lot more than we expected.

Marianne Gregory © 2023

Chapter 8

There were three of the talkative ones, side by side, in their chairs, when we approached. Adrianne asked about the lady who looked as if she had died, and the floodgates opened. I just looked out at the sea and kept watch to warn if the orderlies came out.

It was a lively conversation, with each one of them chipping in with comments. I think that Adrianne asked about the big guy and that started another round, with it finishing as one of these genteel ladies spat on the ground. When we said our cheerio’s, Adrianne told me that we were going for a walk on the beach. Once we were well out of earshot, she filled in the gaps. The dead lady had been totally silent the whole time she had been in the hospital, and one of our informants swore that she had had her tongue cut out. They had also been keeping her alive with regular heroin injections. The consensus of the husband was that he was an overbearing bully, and not a very nice person at all. One had said that she had been told that he taught English at the University. The big guy, we had discovered, was a high authority in the Russian military, and not someone to mess with. The one who had spat was a local, not at all happy with any Russian.

The tensions, in the city, were rising by the day. The University had three sections, one Abkhaz, one Georgian and one Russian. The Georgian students claimed that they were being discriminated against and went on a hunger strike in late April. They wanted a Georgian University, controlled by Tbilisi, and the authorities approved this idea in the middle of May. There was an immediate sit-in by the Abkhaz students and then an edict came down from the Supreme Soviet that Georgia had no right to a separate university, even stating that the region wasn’t big enough for two universities. The tension now was on the knife-edge.

We waited until the weather started to warm, into June, before doing anything dangerous. One day, after dark, because there was no rain forecast for some time, I dressed in a totally black outfit, put my camera and some small binoculars into a backpack, blackened my face, and Adrianne took me to the road junction, only stopping long enough for me to get off, and refix the helmet to the back rack, before carrying on.

I walked up the road, keeping clear of any houses, as my night vision improved. At the wooded area, I went off the road and made my way until I was opposite the target house. I found a spot where I could see up the driveway to the front door, then made myself a little hide. I listened to the sounds of the night, trying to hear any dogs. What I did hear was a cat fight, not far from me, and then I felt one settle itself against my side. We dozed, quietly, until dawn.

We were both awake, with the cat washing herself, when the front door opened and a blonde in a dressing gown called out. The cat immediately left my warm side and dashed across the road. With my binoculars, I could see that the front door had a cat-door, a sure sign that there were no motion sensors inside the house. I waited until they had left, and the road became quiet. Then, I wiped off my face, making sure I looked normal. I got up and went to the edge of the road, then dashed across and through the grounds to the back of the house. As I had expected, there was a window, left ajar, so that any cat smells would be dissipated.

I made sure that nothing was loose about my person, pulled on some thin gloves and worked on the window. It took only moments before I had it open and dropped into a utility room. I went through the house, room by room, finding that the two of them slept in the same bed and that he had a separate office, which he kept locked. That one took all of five minutes to open, and I walked in to examine it. There was a desk, office chair, desk-top computer with printer, a filing cabinet, and some photos on the walls. I looked behind the photos but did not find a safe.

Looking at the pictures, there were some with him and the blonde, looking happy, on the beach. There were none of me, or my mother. One showed him with the big guy, who was presenting him with a medal. Another showed him with a group of students with the notation, ‘My First English Class – all junior spooks.’ Under it, all the students were named. I took a couple of pictures of these with my Zenit, using the close-up lens, hoping that they would be clear enough for London.

I then made a thorough search of the desk. It took three hours. I found some paperwork for a number of bank accounts, some in England, so I took pictures of them and put them back as I found them. One thing that I did put in my bag was an envelope, taped to the underside of the bottom drawer. It contained two safe deposit keys, and the code numbers for a Cayman Island bank account.

One thing that was good, for me, was a silenced pistol with a full magazine. This, I tucked into the waistband of my leggings. Another thing that went into my bag was a notebook, which showed a lot of his activities while working for the Russians. I turned the computer on and took the punt that his password was Bond007. Looking through the files, I saw that he was writing his memoirs. The filing cabinet only had university folders, nothing for me.

I closed every drawer and looked around to see if anything was out of place. The only place that I thought may have something for me would be the bedrooms. One was obviously an unused spare; the second was the room that the blonde should have been sleeping in, making me think that she had been sent here as a minder, rather than a girlfriend. I took some time with my search and found her Russian Military ID in a pocket of a bag, on the top shelf of the wardrobe. This left me with no options when it came to a head. I couldn’t give her any opportunity to retaliate, so strangling was no longer on the cards. I took the ID with me when I left the room.

The master bedroom merely showed that they slept together, and the dirty sheets showed that neither of them cared enough to do the laundry. I went back down to the kitchen, made myself a sandwich and got a glass of water. After I had eaten and washed up, putting everything back as I found it, all I could do now was wait.

I made myself comfortable, next to a window that overlooked the driveway, and the cat joined me. I read through his journal. I expected them back around half past four if they were both at the university. When I saw the car drive in, I took a position behind the door of the master bedroom. If the blonde was true to her gender, the first thing she would want was a change of shoes. She opened the bedroom door and walked in, up to the bed. Then she was laying on the bed, blood pumping out of the three holes that I had put in her back.

Tucking the gun back in my waistband, I took a dart gun from my bag, a gift from our contact. My father was in the kitchen, sitting at the kitchen table with a drink in front of him, as I quietly went in. I just put a dart into his neck. It was quick working and he only had time to put his hand on his neck as he keeled over.

Now, my real work began. Taking pictures as I went along, I put the gun into his left hand, making sure that the fingerprints would be in the right place. One of the good things from being part of his family was that I knew he was left-handed. With the gun put on the table, I pressed his finger and thumb on the ID and put it next to the gun. I topped up the glass and pulled his head back, to pour the spirit down his throat. I found the dart and put it in my bag, then dabbed the spot on his neck with some clear water to clean it. I then took a plastic garbage bag that I had found in the utility room, put it over his head and tied it around his neck with a bootlace I had taken from his bedroom, using a quick knot that he could have done himself.

I sat on the other side of the table to watch him die. It took a little while, the bag moving in and out as he tried to breathe. I felt nothing, this man had rejected me all my life, worse than that, he had subjected my mother to three years of purgatory. When he stopped breathing, I made sure that every sign of me being there was gone. The utility window was back as it should have been. On the way out, I first ignored the cat, then pulled out its can of food and topped up the dish, putting the tin back.

I let myself out and, making sure no-one could see me, retrieved the bug from the car, then went over to the wooded area and pulled the gloves off, putting them in my bag. Dodging trees, I went back towards the road. Adrianne would be passing the side road, every hour, until I flagged her down. I made good progress and came out on the road well away from the scene of my crime. I waited, among the shrubbery, until I saw her come along. When she stopped, I took the helmet off the back rack, put it on and climbed on board. She knew enough not to say a word, until we were back in our room, when she held me close as I let out the feeling of grief for my mother and the shame of my father.

With our primary objective now completed, we could have started back towards home. The situation here was getting precarious and we would be blowing our cover out of the water if we had upped and left as it was getting interesting. The following week, I met with our contact, giving him the copy for the papers and the film canisters. I told him that we were staying on until things blew over. Two days later, after a meeting in the café, we moved in with our guys, something which they said was safer for us. All of the small things we shouldn’t have we put out in the backpacker bins, spread around.

With them, we had more insight to the tensions around the city, our information letting us be on hand when the shooting started. Our notes and photos would make the recipients of the films sit up and take notice. For once, we were doing honest spook work. It all came to a head in the middle of July.

The entry exams for the university were set down for the 16th. On the day before, there was a lot of Georgians in the city, with everyone thinking that they wanted to load the classes. There were a lot of fights. On the 16th, our guys were able to take us to a point in the university where we could watch the entry to the exam building. I had never seen a mob before, it was truly frightening. Many were armed. Later on, it was thought that there may have been five thousand Abkhaz rioters who stormed the building that afternoon to beat up everyone they could find who looked Georgian. Our guys managed to get us away, quietly, missing the worst of the action. By the time the Soviet military had regained some control, the day after, nearly twenty were dead and over four hundred injured, mostly Georgians.

Our guys agreed when we told them that it was too dangerous now, and that our papers wanted us home. By the end of another week, we had given the guys the scooter and taken the train that ran alongside the beach, on our way to Tbilisi. The Hungarian Embassy made bookings on the earliest plane to Sofia. I wondered why everyone was smiling and was eager to help.

When we landed at Sofia, we were greeted by a small group that included the owners of the two newspapers. That’s when we found out that our pieces that we had sent had been syndicated to other papers all over Europe. Our vignettes of hard lives were found to be fascinating; our tourist pieces would make Sukhumi a summer hotspot if it wasn’t so difficult to get to. The hard news on the tension and the fighting had been front page news with our graphic pictures backing up the stories.

Xavier let us know that none of our other pictures had gone anywhere but where they would be appreciated. Before we left Sofia, we attended a private dinner in the Hungarian Embassy. The Ambassador was generous with his thanks, awarding each of us with a bravery award. Gregor took me aside and told me that the Ambassador had his own collection of the pictures of the death of Bond. He had said that it gave him closure.

As for Gregor, the whole thing had been a lift for his, and Sofia’s, career. He told me that he was going to be transferred to a much more dangerous place, Moscow. He hugged us both, before we went back to our hotel. He told me that he was proud of his strong daughter and would be happy to see me, wherever we may meet.

The following day, we were given certificates of excellence from the print media and were told that we both had a big career in journalism, should we want it. The next day we were on a plane to Paris, and then on another, this time flown by the R.A.F. to a military airfield where we were escorted to a safe house for extensive debriefing. It took more than two weeks before they were happy with us. We were treated very well but nobody came to see us other than those debriefing us.

One day, at breakfast, we were told that we would be taken to London. We were given time to dress nicely and pack before we left in the car. At South Bank, we were given our passes back, and escorted to the big office where we were ushered in, finding Helen, Gloria, our two friendly helpers and the boss. He came over to us before anyone else could move, hugging the two of us and telling us that we had done a very professional job, in spite of the personal tensions it may have caused me.

He had our report on his desk, which he read through, with everybody giving their congratulations as he went along. Our two helpers then gave a separate report, based on the pictures I had sent back. We had been able to recover some of the money before the Russians could shut down the accounts. They were happy to have the picture of all the junior spooks and each face was added to our database.

Helen then took centre stage.

“I must say, Barbara, that you have shown yourself to be a smooth operator. There were no suspicious activities on the Russian side, that we could pick up. We don’t think that they accepted his death as a murder / suicide due to his discovery that his lover was also his guard, but there are no signs that any they had started to make any investigations. I believe that they really can’t figure out how it was done.”

“Thank you, Helen, I tried to hold myself to the job at hand. It’s not as if he was my father, and sending my mother to the other side was an act of kindness. Neither of them had any pain as they died. It’s not something I’m proud of. There is something, however, that I worry about. It’s that damn cat! I had it warming itself by my side most of the night. It was comforting. I just hope that they made sure it got a new home.”

That created a few knowing smiles. Gloria then had a question.

“Is there anything else we need to know? That part of the world looks like it is more of a powder keg than it has been. Your reports have given us an insight into a crack that is appearing in the side of the Bear. We hope that it gets bigger, to the point where the guts spill out.”

I reached into my backpack and pulled out the journal.

“I do have something that I have been holding back to bring here. He was busy writing his memoirs. Since I picked this up, I have read it and it contains a lot of information from years ago. There are names and details. I will now give it to you, sir, as anything that it produces will need to come from the top. It will be up to you who you bring in to tidy up the mess it will stir up.”

I got up and put the book on his desk, after taking out the envelope, which I handed to the older of our helpers.

“More work for you two, it may include a trip overseas.”

He opened the envelope and took out the slip of paper and the keys, smiled and asked the boss if they could leave the office. He nodded and they left, big grins on their faces.

The five of us then discussed the situation in Georgia, with the likely outcomes. Then we moved onto the covers, with the consequences of our successful stories. The boss told us that they were good enough to send us anywhere in the world, under our cover names. He then ordered me to learn some Russian, and for Adrianne to perfect her knowledge. There were going to be places we could go to, as journalists and do our jobs.

All the time, he left the book where I had put it, almost unable to pick it up and start the process of cleaning the department. I didn’t envy him. Helen then stood.

“You two are going to spend the rest of the day with our shrinks. Between you, I have counted nine deaths. We don’t have a double ‘O’ section, but, if we did, they would be spending time with the shrinks after every operation.”

She then nodded to Gloria, who led us out of the office, leaving Helen and the boss the privacy to start looking through the journal. Two levels down, we were taken to a corridor with numbers on the doors. At #8, Gloria knocked, and, when a voice called out, she opened it and ushered Adrianne inside, pulling the door shut behind her.

At #11, it was my turn to enter the office – well - consulting room. I spent four hours with a very nice woman, who took me through my childhood, my feelings for my parents, my feeling for my new father, and my feelings about killing people for a living. Her level must be almost as high as the boss because she had every scrap of information in my file, as well as the parts of the other Bond files that pertained to me. When I told her about the cat, she grabbed it, and we discussed my need for love, affection, and companionship. At the end of the session, she told me that there were a few ways we spooks could be undone. One was a deep relationship, one was losing the sense of fear, then becoming arrogant, and the final was acquiring pets.

“I have noted,” she said in her final wind-up, “That you have only actually killed, in the accepted sense of the word, a couple of times. Vlad was unconscious when the fire started, the two Russians were blown up, while Adrianne shot the other two. By my reckoning, the only innocent person who you killed in cold blood, was the Russian blonde. Why was that?”

“That’s easy. She was a trained member of their military, and if I had given her any chance, there would have been a fight which would have alerted my father. As it is, she was dead before she knew anything was wrong, so she didn’t suffer.”

“All right, Barbara, that’s enough for now. I do not look forward to any more of this type of operation for you. I am going to recommend that the two of you are sent off for simple intelligence gathering for a few years. You need the time to create a new reality.”

I met up with Adrianne, in the canteen, before going back to see Helen. She told me that her shrink had said much the same. It looked as if our immediate future would be more than boring. How wrong we were!

When we did get to sit down with Helen and Gloria, in the control room with the door firmly locked, Helen wanted to know how much of the journal Adrianne had read. We could truthfully say that she hadn’t seen it. There was some discussion regarding our covers. Gloria had looked at our journalist paperwork under the microscope and declared that the two passports were genuine, as were all the passes. We could, if we wanted to, go anywhere in the Soviet Bloc, and be accepted as who we said we were, with our reporting bolstering the facts. They wanted us to revert to the covers and go and live in Europe, taking on assignments as we were given them.

We worked through a timeline. We were both going to give up our homes, not a big problem for Adrianne. I would sell the house as Barry Bond, all to be done by mail. The Circus would be able to facilitate all of that. Once we were somewhere in Europe, we would open genuine bank accounts, with the sort of balances that a couple of girl journalists might have. Any other money would be put into numbered accounts, organised by MI6. That would be where our salaries would be paid. Any other money that we might need would be given to us in cash by our handlers. A meeting with our friendly helpers had informed us that, with all of the money that had been recovered from the various accounts and deposit boxes, topped up with a considerable sum that had been in the Caymans, we had managed to offset most of the two tons of bullion.

Then, we were both going to study Russian, to become as fluent as we could in a month. I knew that I end up with a Georgian accent. The preferred home should be central, in the Bloc, but close enough to a NATO country to be able to make an escape. Prague, in Czechoslovakia, was picked, and we made a trip over to find a suitable apartment. We found one, sparsely furnished, and signed the agreement. A couple of days buying better furniture and setting up our bank accounts made it seem more like home. We then went to Sofia and informed our papers that we would be working central Europe, should they want any copy. We gave them our bank details for any payments.

In early September 1989, we settled in and put out feelers. We interviewed the people in the street and found the feelings were much the same as we had found in Georgia. We went to Poland and managed to get an interview with Lech Walesa, the likely new President. The Solidarity movement had created a huge crack in the hide of the Bear, and Gorbachev was finding it hard to justify authoritarian tactics.

In October 1989, we were in Hungary, covering the dissolution of the Warsaw Pact, and the removal of the border fence between Hungary and Austria. We were back in Czechoslovakia in November, to cover the early days of the Velvet Revolution, with the important meeting that led to all of the Communist Leaders resigning, paving the way to the break from Russia. Then, we were on the spot as the Berlin Wall came down.

During 1990, we travelled all over the remnants of the Soviet Bloc. Even going to Moscow, where we had a nice meal with Sofia and Gregor. We interviewed everyone we could, from the man in the street to the leaders. Our stories had been seen as neutral, even homely, and there were very few who wouldn’t talk to us. There were some who couldn’t help but boast, off the record, to a couple of pretty girls. All the while, our copy went off to Sofia, while our intelligence went by various ways to London.

In ‘91we were back in Moscow as Gorbachev oversaw the dissolution of the Supreme Soviet, and then travelled all over, getting stories about the general feelings of relief that the Bear was dead. Of course, nothing lasts for ever and we were back in Sukhumi and Tbilisi to cover the war between the Georgians and Abkhaz. Many died until that particular fighting stopped in September ’93. That peace wouldn’t last, we were sure of that.

From there, we were in Bosnia to cover the Serbian – Croatian conflict until 1995. After that, we were allowed to call it a day. We had spent six years inside conflict and revolution and had not killed a single person. We had, however, made our mark as journalists. In ’95, we let our papers know that we were taking a break. They were sad to see us go but were effusive in their praise.

Back in London, we found a totally new version of South Bank. The main management was now all younger officers, many of the older ones finding that helping a Russian spy, however minor, did not sit well on your CV.

We became managers, specialising in Central Europe. We had both now upped to a security level just below Helen. It was good to settle down and work normal hours, most days.

To prove that we had finally given up our dangerous lives, we both found nice guys from within the office, married, and found somewhere close to live so that we could get together.

There were nights when I was in heaven, lying next to my warm man with two cats curled up against my back. I was truly loved and had finally learned the one thing that it takes time to learn. I had, finally, learned how to love.

Marianne Gregory © 2023