THEODORE’S ACCOUNT

Theo was a senior diplomat at the Russian embassy in Kensington, London. He had been there for two years and only managed to see his wife in Moscow every six months or so. Several years ago he had been approached by the CIA. His first concern, however, was for his wife. She held an important post with the State Nuclear Energy Bureau. They had serious misgivings about the morality and ethics of their country’s politics. Although offered inducements to defect, Theo would not consider it unless they could go together. The CIA contact was just an insurance policy.

On Theo’s visit home for Christmas last year they had entertained their good friend Sergei at their Moscow flat. Whether it was because of the softening of the political atmosphere or maybe the excellent vodka before, during, and after their dinner doesn’t matter, but no longer fearful of bugs in the apartment they had been more frank with each other than ever before.

Sergei, a bachelor, is a Soviet Union citizen of Arabic extraction and a member of Moscow’s Middle East Section of the diplomatic corps. He travelled widely. In addition to English he spoke several dialects of Arabic. They did not know what drove him to reveal to them that he had been working for the West for some time.

‘When he knew he had reached sympathetic ears,’ said Theo,’ he tell us that he had been recruited by the Americans as well as British long time ago. My wife, now four months pregnant, confessed she not approve of Soviet nuclear programme. She had concluded that there was more interest in arming the enemies of the West than the peaceful application of nuclear power, for which she had been trained. She talk of another nuclear scientist, Andrei Sakharov, Nobel Prize winner and famous dissident. He banished from Moscow, and still detained under house arrest after five years. We have doubts about our government ever telling the truth. The three of us know about leak of anthrax from biological-warfare laboratory, but denied by Kremlin. Over sixty people die.’

That evening on Christmas Day they formed a bond of like minds. Two weeks prior to the birth of her baby in April his wife had been “invited” by the KGB to “visit” the Lubyanka prison, where the questioning about her husband and friends was none too subtle. Then, after the birth, she had unwisely criticised the government to a friend about the withholding of information on the Chernobyl nuclear disaster. Shortly after that she received a visit from a so-called nuclear physicist, asking about her opinion on the incident. She could tell that this man was not versed in the study of physics. She knew that again this was the KGB. It was then that the three friends became aware that they were under observation and in great danger. They had to act.

Their French, American, and British contacts promised to arrange for their defection. The order in which they were each spirited away was dictated by the degree of imminent danger from the KGB. Another invitation to the basement of the Lubyanka for any one of them would have had them all exposed.

‘You know, Soviets use any method to obtain information,’ said Theo. ‘I was obliged to return to my embassy in London. Through my English contacts I say we have made our decisions. We were offered freedom, good positions in America, new identities, and comfortable homes. A month after baby Alexander born he diagnosed with serious heart condition requiring specialist surgery. My wife was told by authorities this only available in East Berlin. She know otherwise. This reminded her yet again of Sakharov, who had been force-fed for going on hunger strike because his wife was refused permission to go abroad for medical treatment. Natalie had applied to go to paediatric hospital in Geneva that had highest success rate in the world for procedure required for our son. This request was denied. She told to go hospital in East Berlin.’

There then was no doubt, in either Theo’s mind or his wife’s, that she was being restricted from going abroad, and confined to East Germany where the Stasi could keep an eye on her. Meanwhile Sergei had an assignment in Saudi Arabia, where he felt safe for the time being, but he knew that if Theo or Natalie were exposed for their views he would be recalled to Moscow purely on the basis of association, and then become subject to the regime’s maximum scrutiny.

Danger for Theo and his wife had now reached “critical” level. Their decision to flee immediately was prompted by a promise, from the CIA, that the world’s most advanced treatment for their baby son would be given the moment they stepped onto American soil. An elaborate plan was drawn up for her escape from the East Berlin hospital

As soon as the CIA learned that Natalie had successfully cleared into West Germany they informed Theo’s English contact, who arranged for him to “disappear” before he came under suspicion in London. He was almost dragged out of bed from his Chelsea flat and transported to a safe house in Surrey. There he was assured that, with the Schengen Agreement in force since June of last year, having safely crossed into West Germany his wife and son would be safe on their journey to Cherbourg. They did not tell him how she or he would get to America. Later, in the middle of the next night, the two of them were reunited at an airfield in the south of England and seven hours later they were in Boston, USA.

They had time during that journey across the Atlantic to ponder on the morality of betrayal of their country, on who was to blame for the death of their son, and on the price they were paying for the cause of world peace. Even the joy of being reunited with their friend Sergei a little later could not remove their feelings of guilt and loss.

Theo drew hard on his cigar as he finished his narrative. He was looking sad. He took his wife’s hand as he realised he had just reminded them of the downside to their decision.

He concluded, ‘The French coroner made open verdict, so we never know if our son live if we take him Geneva or if he survive journey to America, and of course we have no way to check GDR hospital records.’

There was a long pause.

Greg broke the silence: ‘If it is of any help to you - and I am much older than both of you - I have also been faced with difficult moral decisions about which I have had many doubts. Apportioning blame is a pointless exercise. It can destroy a marriage; and hindsight is a wonderful thing, but also pointless. Mary and I are saddened by the death of your baby son, but you are young and have each other. Could not making a new life together mean just that very thing?’

Without knowing what had passed between the two wives, Greg had touched on the secret that Natalie had revealed to Mary in the bedroom earlier. Natalie moved closer to her husband.

Mary rose to her feet. ‘Come, Natalie - let us have a look at Alexander. He will need feeding soon. He has been so good and we really should be going home.’

When they were in the bedroom, Mary explained to Natalie that she had not said a word to Greg about her pregnancy. They joined the men again. The women did not know if Theo had replied to Greg’s question. He gave Mary and Greg an address in the USA where “the Roberts” could be reached. Fond farewells were exchanged and big hugs repeated.

As they made to leave, Natalie whispered in Mary’s ear, ‘I tell him tonight.’

The Norfields said little as they were driven home and then, nearly at the end of the journey, Carl spoke: ‘You guys may talk freely if you wish. Captain Worthy is a good friend of mine. This meeting would not have come about if it had not been for him. He also arranged everything in France for them. He has told me a lot about you. We are all in this together. I was the taxi in Lymington who drove Sergei to Lasham.’

Mary gave Greg a quizzical look. This time she knew there was something that needed explaining. Greg for his part was beginning to think that the old Commander’s policy of only discussing matters amongst themselves on a need-to-know basis was preferable. He knew that once they were on their own Mary would pursue the references to Sergei and Lymington. He reckoned he had barely five minutes to prepare his explanation. Was this the time to come clean?

The moment the car pulled up at the yard gate the baby started to cry, which mercifully for Greg took their attention. As they entered The Cabin Greg was quick to offer to feed the child and lay him down for the night.

‘We’ve had a long day,’ he said to Mary as he warmed the milk. ‘Don’t know about you, but I’m also ready for bed?’ His raised eyebrows indicated this was more in the form of a question, and Mary understood.

‘Greg, my darling, I feel terribly guilty.’

‘So do I,’ he said. ‘Let’s snuggle up in bed and feel guilty together!’

It seemed that by silent and mutual consent they fell asleep the moment their heads hit the pillow.

Alexander did not wake them that night until it was getting light. It took them a few minutes to realise they did not have to open the office until the following Thursday. Over a cup of tea they looked at each other and laughed.

Greg believed the best method of defence was attack: ‘Do we open the confessional now, or wait until Sunday?’ he enquired with a grin.

She smiled, put her arms round his neck and kissed him.

‘I really am truly, truly sorry. I was convinced that we had buried that baby at sea. I can tell you now that as we pushed the bag overboard I muttered what words I could remember of the Burial at Sea service that my father had spoken many times. Why then did Natasha, as she was then, cry out so loud when you attacked the bag with your marlinspike?’

‘In that bag’, said Greg, ‘was all that was left of her old life. She had been ordered to destroy every piece of evidence of identity including the only photograph she had of her son. There I was, actually carrying out the destruction in front of her very eyes. She was grief-stricken and desperately tired.’

‘You know, my love,’ said Mary,’ you have far greater perception than I have given you credit for. You are right of course. You were right to believe her and not me at the time. Now you know why I feel so guilty.’

‘My lovely, lovely Mary, I remember soon after we were married we lay in bed one night in that old caravan and had a long discussion about our involvement with the Intelligence Services. We are both guilty, and yet neither of us is guilty. To some, being economical with the truth is a form of lying. We have lied to each other. You are going to ask me about Sergei. To delay imparting information to someone can be interpreted as lying. We have both done it. It took you a very long time to tell me that it was actually you that got me recruited in the first place! I said to Theo last night, if you remember, about hindsight being a wonderful thing and how pointless it was trying to apportion blame. You are not guilty of anything, my darling, except maybe of loving me.’

‘Good. That very definitely makes me guilty!’

‘Now I’ll tell you about Sergei,’ said Greg. He told her everything about the Lymington passage in L’Enterprise.

She listened in silence. Then she said, ‘I’m still not sure that the end justifies the means, but I remember we promised that night to keep faith with the cause. That cause was our small contribution to world peace. I think Daddy would have approved.

Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God.’

(Christ - Sermon on the Mount).

FIN