Every spy a traitor, p.32
Every Spy a Traitor, page 32
Cooper shifted awkwardly and recalled his training on how to act during an interrogation.
Never volunteer any information.
Let the person questioning you exhaust what they have to say. That way, you’ll have an idea of the extent of their knowledge about you.
‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’
‘Tell you what?’
‘Tell me who you’re working for and what you’re up to?’
Cooper shrugged and said he honestly wasn’t sure what he was getting at because he was really quite unimportant, no more than a clerk really and he wasn’t up to anything and—
‘If you’re so unimportant, how come you were staying at the Lux and had that bogus Irish identity in Moscow and now have a different name, eh? George William Hobson hasn’t become Frank Reynolds for no reason.’
Marsh raised his eyebrows to make it clear he was expecting an answer.
‘There’s something about you I can’t work out. You’re obviously no longer OMS, because that no longer exists, but you’re up to something and I’m not sure what it is. You’re working for someone… maybe NKVD like Milne, but possibly some other group. Maybe you’re an infiltrator – who knows? But I’ll find out – and from now on you’ll work for me. You’ll do what I say, because you know that if you don’t co-operate, I can make life very difficult for you. Imagine what Milne and the others will make of you, eh? And the British authorities!’
And that was the moment when Cooper remembered the funfair; the puppet who was knocked down only to be replaced by another one. He’d got rid of Osip, who he thought was his last remaining threat.
But now, up popped Douglas Marsh, and he was faced with an even greater threat.
But he didn’t panic. He assured Marsh that he was happy to co-operate with him, but all the while he knew exactly what he was going to do.
* * *
‘It’s chaff!’
Cooper asked Burton what he meant, and Burton said surely you know what chaff is and Cooper said, yes, but they were talking about the documents he’d photographed from Milne’s safe, not what you found on a farm.
‘Don’t be clever, Cooper, you know full well what I mean: the documents are all run of the mill stuff, they’re not top-class intelligence. This is all internal Communist Party nonsense, some mildly interesting stuff on who’s in favour in Moscow and who’s suspected over here of being a Trotsky supporter and a few names we’d been unaware of – not unhelpful or uninteresting by any means, but not… not what we were hoping for, certainly not after waiting all this time.’
‘I’m sorry. I did my best.’ Cooper couldn’t hide his disappointment. Burton could have been more grateful.
‘Don’t take it personally, Cooper. We need you to stick at it though. The feeling is that Milne is the person in the Communist Party with the closest links to Moscow, certainly now that Litvinov has been booted out and replaced by Molotov. Just keep looking: sooner or later you’ll find something.’
* * *
It was a year since the debacle in Brussels and since Murray had found him in Regent’s Park, promising to help if he ever needed him, and then proceeding to tell him how to make contact.
The Seven Stars in Holborn, an elderly barman called Bernard.
Cooper was a good deal more worldly now than he’d been then – certainly than he’d been two years before when he’d been tricked into going to Moscow – and as a result he was somewhat sceptical when he entered The Seven Stars in Carey Street on a Thursday evening in June, the day after meeting Douglas Marsh.
A sign over the entrance announced that the pub had first opened in 1602 and that just added to the surreal nature of his visit: it all felt quite unlikely that this visit would lead to him meeting Murray.
He doubted he’d ever see Murray again.
But it was as if he was following a script. He wandered through the pub and in a downstairs snug spotted an elderly barman who said indeed he was when Cooper asked if he was Bernard by any chance.
‘And how can I help you, sir?’
‘May I ask if you have any Island malts?’
‘We do indeed, sir: may I ask which one you’d prefer?’
‘A Talisker, perhaps?’
The slightest of pauses from Bernard, a brief pursing of the lips as if allowing himself time to think, and then a pleasant smile and a suggestion that if sir wished to wait at that table in the corner he’d go to the upstairs bar and bring a Talisker down for him, no trouble at all, sir.
Five minutes later Bernard appeared at the table and placed a large whisky in front of him and drew up a chair.
‘I took the opportunity of telephoning our acquaintance…’
‘Mr Murray?’
‘Indeed, sir, though one does try to avoid names. He would be happy to meet you. He suggests tomorrow night, in this very bar, at six o’clock.’
* * *
They’d exchanged pleasantries and spoken briefly about the weather, of course, and each drank half a pint of mild before Murray suggested they go for a walk, which took them through Lincoln’s Inn and past the barristers’ chambers and the neat lawns and pairs of barristers walking along in their gowns and their clerks behind them burdened by files they were taking back to their office.
When they reached an isolated bench, Murray asked what he wanted and to keep it as brief as possible and said it went without saying that if anyone approached, he was to change the subject.
Cooper hesitated.
‘Let me help you: you want someone killed?’
Cooper nodded, shocked at the avoidance of any euphemism. He explained that the man’s name was Douglas Marsh but he was also known as Harry Moore and he couldn’t be sure of which was his real name, but he worked for the Communist Party and was based, for want of a better word, in their headquarters in King Street and—
‘Where does he live?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Not sure or you don’t know?’
‘The latter, I’m afraid. If it’s any help, he was in Moscow in 1937 and stayed at the Lux Hotel and I understand he was in Spain earlier this year and may have been in Barcelona in January.’
Murray nodded and said that was helpful but, ideally, he’d need more to go on and Cooper said of course.
‘Preferably a photograph. Deliver what you can in an envelope to Bernard, as early as possible next week. We have no direct contact from now on. I don’t expect to ever hear from you again.’
‘Of course, I quite understand.’
Murray stood up and straightened his jacket and said there was a surprising chill in the air.
‘Apart from anything else, the world is changing very fast and one often wonders which side one is on.’
He paused and looked at Cooper for a moment as if he was about to say something else but then turned sharply on his heels and headed off, walking briskly and within moments had disappeared into the shadows of Lincoln’s Inn.
* * *
He’d found a photograph of Douglas Marsh from the sheet Burton had given him in The Annexe and another from a 1934 edition of the Daily Worker, a bit grainy but it was a decent enough resemblance. He wrote a detailed description, a key feature of which was the brown jacket with leather elbow patches that Marsh always wore, along with the information that when he left the office, he always headed south to cross Waterloo Bridge.
He’d delivered the envelope to the obliging Bernard in The Seven Stars on the Tuesday evening and worried he’d hear back that this wasn’t good enough and when he heard nothing, he assumed that if anything were to happen to Marsh it certainly wouldn’t be for a while.
But the following Monday he sensed that something was up in King Street; the atmosphere even more conspiratorial than normal. There were more closed doors and huddled conversations than usual and Cliff Milne said he wasn’t to be disturbed and Cooper knew better than to draw attention to himself by asking what was going on.
He found out soon enough though when he bought his copy of the Evening News on his way home from work.
Tooting Man Dead in Horror Fall
Police in Tooting say they are investigating the death at the weekend of a forty-nine-year-old local man.
The body of Douglas Marsh of Furzedown Road, Tooting, was found at the foot of a flight of steps behind Tooting Bec Road in the early hours of Sunday morning.
Police say that at this stage in the investigation they do not suspect foul play and believe that intoxication was contributory to the cause of Mr Marsh’s fall.
Chapter 32
London
August 1939
It was a small envelope, taped to the underside of the shelf in Cliff Milne’s safe, and Cooper only came across it by accident more than anything else. He hadn’t spotted it on any of the four occasions he had broken into the safe since the beginning of June, but then he hadn’t looked or felt under the shelf.
Opportunities to get into the safe had been few and far between and even when he’d got into it and photographed documents Percy Burton had been notably less than enthusiastic about the results. They were ‘fine’ he said, ‘quite useful… interesting enough in their own way’, English upper-middle-class code for saying they were disappointing and not quite what he was hoping for.
‘But do keep digging, Cooper, you’re bound to strike gold sooner or later!’ He’d deliver that in a manner which barely masked his disappointment.
It was the August Bank Holiday – the 7 August – and Milne was in Devon for a few days. It was too good an opportunity to miss.
He’d only come across the envelope – which measured some four inches by six – because under the shelf was a larger envelope, full of newspaper cuttings, and as he pulled it out his hand brushed the envelope.
He removed it carefully, making a mental note of how it had been attached under the shelf, and placed it on the floor and then remained still, listening out for any sound beyond the office.
There was Cyrillic writing on the cover:
Молотов, Вячеслав Михайлович
And below it, in smaller writing: Molotov, Vyacheslav Mikhaylovich.
Molotov, the new Soviet foreign minister.
Cooper felt his heart beat faster and his hands trembled as he opened the envelope. Inside were four sets of very thin paper, each folded into very small squares.
He opened each one carefully, as if handling a valuable stamp. They were four letters, all typed in English.
17 April, 1939
Moscow
USSR
My dear comrade!
I hope this letter reaches you safely: this courier is one of the very few people I trust wholeheartedly.
I returned to Moscow at the beginning of the month and I’m not sure whether that was a wise move: one can never be sure as to how safe one is. I hope I still retain the trust of Comrade Stalin, though many comrades who’ve been arrested and punished no doubt thought the same.
My main concern is the undue and damaging influence Maxim Maximovich Litvinov currently has. Did you imagine Jews like him think that by changing their name they suddenly become proper Russians? Almost everyone of influence in his Ministry of Foreign Affairs is a Jew, along with ambassadors such as Maisky in London and Suritz in Paris.
As you and I have discussed on a number of occasions, Litvinov is actively pursuing a military and diplomatic pact between the Soviet Union and France and Great Britain. This has considerable support in France, less so in your country and there’s no doubt that one or two well-placed agents have helped to encourage a lack of enthusiasm in London for Litvinov’s crazy plan. Their role – and yours – in undermining it has been crucial.
But all is not good, my dear comrade. Litvinov remains the People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs and as a Jew he’s unquestionably hostile to Germany and also retains the ear of Comrade Stalin and for as long as that is the case then the prospect of a disastrous pact between the Soviet Union and France and your country remains a very real one.
I will continue to do what I can to undermine this and to turn Stalin against Litvinov. But this is not without very personal considerable risk. Should anything happen to me then you must take every precaution to ensure your own safety. It is known within certain circles in Moscow that you and I go back a long way and should I be arrested then our representatives in London or opponents in your headquarters may use that as a reason to move against you.
In the meantime, I am relying on you to do what you can to continue to ensure Litvinov’s proposed pact receives minimal support in London – and I look forward to reading more information from you as to what progress or otherwise he is making.
Should this be the last time you hear from me, that, comrade, is the fate of a revolutionary.
Stay strong!
MBM
The next letter was shorter.
8 May, 1939
Moscow
USSR
My dear comrade Sova!
This is the briefest of letters – for reasons which will very quickly become apparent.
Litvinov has gone and since last Wednesday I am the new People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs!!
My only disappointment is that Comrade Stalin is of the view that it is sufficient to have dismissed Litvinov from his post. I’d hoped he’d be arrested and eliminated by now, but sadly that has not happened.
I am now doing my best to disentangle the Soviet Union from Litvinov’s proposed pact with France and Great Britain. I cannot thank you enough for the work you have done in ensuring such a negative attitude to the proposal in London. Agent A seems to be very effective and very well placed.
In the meantime, discussions with Berlin are tentative but positive.
Your friend and comrade,
MBM
Cooper now felt all of his senses heightened. Reading these letters felt as if he had his hands on history.
8 July, 1939
Moscow
USSR
My dear comrade!
It is two months since I last wrote to you and there is much to catch up on.
The most important news from here is we are still stringing France and Great Britain along, letting them think that we are interested in a military pact with them. But I’m reassured that Comrade Stalin is furious those two countries entered a pact with Poland, which he sees as a hostile act towards the Soviet Union. For this reason, he is now leaning – rather too cautiously, one has to say – towards my plan of a rapprochement between us and Germany.
I’ve been making the point that Europe is heading to war and we cannot be on the side of the capitalist and imperialist so-called ‘democracies’. If we have to choose which side to be on – and, as you know, I believe we do have to make a choice – then it is in our interests to side with Germany.
At the moment we are negotiating a commercial agreement with Germany, which is very much in their interests: they are in desperate need of our raw materials. I’m optimistic we can extend our co-operation beyond this and look to negotiate something more substantial.
And this is where you come in, my friend. I cannot stress too strongly how confidential and top secret is the possibility of a wider pact between us and Germany. However, in anticipation of it, we do need to address one especially critical issue – namely how we counter and eliminate any dissent to a possible pact within the Communist Parties of Western Europe?
It would be too dangerous for you to do anything at the moment, but I urge you to start thinking about how to exercise control and discipline over the British Party in the event of an announcement of a pact with Germany.
In comradeship,
MBM
Cooper could only imagine how delighted Burton would be with this. And there was one more letter.
1 August, 1939
Moscow
USSR
My dear comrade!
This letter is being brought back to London by Ivan Alexandrovich Morozov: he speaks highly of you and also of another agent – A – who has been of so much help to us.
Since becoming People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs I’ve learnt more about the extent of our intelligence operations abroad and I’m astonished at their scope and their sophistication. I worried the dismantling of the OMS could have an adverse effect on our overseas operations, but I’m pleased to see that the NKVD, the GRU and the embassies have maintained their effectiveness. The role of people such as yourself and of secret agents such as A is vital.
Morozov told me we have another British agent in London who he refers to as B and with whom he’s lost contact, which is a clear source of embarrassment to him. There seems to be a good deal of confusion as to who was running this agent, and it may well be he was one of those being run by the GRU. Morozov was a bit too guarded and vague for my liking on this: evidently there was a connection between Agent B and Harry Moore, who I think was known as Douglas Marsh in London? Morozov tells me Marsh died in an accident in June: have you heard anything and would you have any idea who this B could be?
Much progress is being made with Germany. We expect to finalise a commercial agreement with them soon and although there’s still much to do, I’m hoping that this will be but a brief prelude to an announcement before the end of August of a more substantial agreement of a military nature, the news of which will set the world on fire!
I read your very helpful letter of 12 July with much interest. I think you are right to anticipate some disquiet in the British Party at any announcement of a pact with Germany. However, people need to remember what democratic centralism means: if the Soviet Union decides that it is in its interests to enter a pact with Germany, then that must be accepted without discussion or equivocation. There can be no room for any reservations, let alone dissent.
