Lehrter Station by David Downing Read Free Book Online

football as it was meant to be played.’ Much was made of the Dynamos’ willingness to interchange positions ‘without getting in each other’s way’, a revolutionary tactic which had completely flummoxed their English opponents.
    There was other English news of interest – a sweet ration bonus promised for Christmas, and a Parliamentary statement by the Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin which reaffirmed British opposition to increasing the number of Jewish refugees allowed into Palestine. Those already there were striking in protest.
    More to the point, there was news from Berlin. Two political rallies had been held on the previous evening, with both attracting audiences of around four thousand. At one, the German Communist leader Wilhelm Pieck had suggested that his party, the KPD, should share a manifesto and electoral pact with their old rivals, the Social Democrat SPD. At the other meeting, the latter’s leader Otto Grotewohl had pledged ‘close collaboration’ between the two parties, and had declared that ‘capitalism no longer existed.’
    ‘In your dreams,’ Russell murmured to himself. What was Moscow playing at, and how would it affect his own task in Berlin? If Stalin was encouraging the German left to unite around a moderate line, then the Russians could hardly complain about German comrades who pursued a relatively independent path. Half his job description might already be redundant, which would certainly be good news. Though on reflection it seemed probable that the NKVD would still want the information, if only for future use.
    The other news from Berlin was dispiriting - the first snow had fallen, of what promised to be a desperate winter. He put the paper aside and glanced at his watch. It was almost eleven o’clock.
    There was no one else waiting at the canteen counter, but he felt reluctant to pay for two teas – the NKVD had called this meeting, and they could supply the bloody refreshments.
    There had been several tables occupied when he arrived, but now there were only two. A couple of secretaries had their heads bent over a newspaper, and were giggling at something or other, their heads shaking like a pair of maracas. A few feet away from them, a remarkably smug-looking nanny was staring into space, idly rocking the pram parked beside her.
    A flash of white hair caught Russell’s attention – Shchepkin was crossing Southampton Row. The Russian was lost from view for several moments, then reappeared inside the park. No one seemed to be following him, but for all Russell knew there were pairs of binoculars trained on them both. Either Nanny was the head of MI5, or she had him hidden in the pram.
    Espionage could be dangerous, immoral, even romantic. But it was almost always faintly ridiculous.
    Shchepkin smiled as he walked up, and shook Russell’s hand. After wiping the seat with his handkerchief, he sat down and viewed their surroundings.
    Why are we meeting here?’ Russell wondered out loud. ‘A bit public, isn’t it? Now the people watching you will be checking up on me.’
    Shchepkin smiled. ‘It’s almost as public as a football stadium,’ he observed.
    ‘Ah, that’s the point, is it?’
    ‘Of course. If the British tell the Americans about your meetings with us, it will increase your credibility as a double agent.’
    Russell followed the thought for a few seconds, then let it go. There seemed all sorts of flaws in the reasoning, but then intelligence people used a different form of logic to ordinary human beings. If indeed logic came into it.
    ‘Comrade Nemedin is also a football fan,’ Shchepkin added, as if that explained the choice of Stamford Bridge as a meeting place. ‘And Dynamo are the team of the NKVD.’
    ‘And I expected he wanted to see me in the flesh,’ Russell realised. ‘See what he was getting for his blackmail.’
    ‘Yes, he did,’ Shchepkin agreed, ignoring the flash of bitterness. ‘Not that he learnt anything from the encounter. He doesn’t