Mrs Harris Goes to Moscow by Paul Gallico Read Free Book Online Page A

approval from his equally dense superiors. Having decoded Mrs Butterfield’s profession as Ladies’ Attendant he reasoned that no British Milady would think of travelling without her personal bodyservant and thus Mrs Butterfield became attached to ‘Lady Char’ as ‘and maid’.
    One copy of the original application went through to Intourist headquarters in Moscow where reservations were made in a tourist class hotel and the machinery started to put Mrs Harris and Mrs Butterfield along with their fellow passengers on Tour 6A. This called for an ironclad and unbudgeable routine of visits to landmarks, historic places, institutes, monuments and an evening at the Bolshoi as prescribed by the rigid Intourist programme. But there was also a special branch appointed to sift through the visitors’ list in case anyone of importance appeared thereon. Anyone of title fell into that category. British aristocrats in particular were to be handled with gloves of a very special quality of kid so that they might be lulled into the belief that the Big Brown Bear was really just a sweetly purring pussycat. This branch had a neatly concealed budget needed to supply the visiting VIPs and bigshots with caviar, vodka, champagne, chauffeur-driven limousines, country
dachas
, shoots, special privileges andentertainment. In due course the précis prepared with regard to the impending arrival of Lady Char and maid reached this branch where notice was taken of its importance and the subjects thereof scheduled to the routine called for by their eminence.
    This exquisite muddle augured most auspiciously for the holiday planned by the two friends. However, all this took place during the period of the ‘good news, bad news’ jokes. The bad news in this case was the fact that the photocopy of the original applications of Mrs Harris and Mrs Butterfield, travelling together, sent to the security service wound up on the desk of Comrade Inspector Vaslav Vornov, he of the elephantine memory, whereas chance might just as well have deposited them with any one of five other similar inspectors.
    These documents were merely part of the batch of some twenty-five or so comprising another scheduled departure of Intourist Package Tour 6A.
    Comrade Vornov’s practised eye ran over them and found no suspect name, newspaper correspondent, special writer, prominent socialist, businessman or Trade Delegate Head who might be doing a bit of spying on the side. There appeared to be simply a group of normal and innocuous tourists who would, of course, as a precaution, be photographed anyway as they descended from the plane by means of a hidden long distance lens and naturally kept underconstant surveillance by the Intourist guide, hotel staff and, in particular, the ‘Dragon Lady’ or auxiliary concierge who sits by the lift of every floor of every hotel handing out the room keys and from which position she is able to keep track of all comings and goings.
    No problems. He was about to stamp the batch and lay them aside when he was aware that something was niggling at his mind. That memory was at work trying to call his attention to what? A name? A profession? Wait now. He relaxed to let whatever it was come through. The elephant trumpeted. He had it! A name, Mrs Ada Harris. Hadn’t it in some way been connected with that well-known archenemy of the Russian people, the Marquis Hypolite de Chassagne? Yes, that was it and there it was, the name on the application, Ada Harris, plus a travelling companion, Violet Butterfield. He picked up the telephone, called the computer section, gave them both names and said, ‘Run those through and give me the results immediately.’
    The computer section complied at once. Their monster went into its routine of blinking lights and clicking circuits and a few moments later disgorged a fund of information which, landed upon Comrade Vornov’s desk and read by him, gave him the most