Thats right, said Carey. You can turn round now; well go back to Imatra and book into the hotel.
Armstrong came to a wide part of the road and slowed to a halt. As he turned the car, he said, Are there many of those towers around here?
All along the frontier. I suspect theyre linked with electronic detection devices. The boys in those towers can record every footfall. He looked at the spindly tower with a critical eye. The Russians have a suspicious nature always trying to look over other peoples walls. Theyre a funny crowd.
Armstrong was silent, but his mind was busy with speculation. The trouble with Carey was that he was uncommunicative about his plans until the last moment, an idiosyncrasy apt to unnerve his subordinates. He wondered how they were going to cross the border.
He drove back into Imatra under Careys direction and pulled up outside the entrance to the hotel. It was a big, rambling building constructed of stone with turrets and cupolas and towers. He thought it looked like a fairy tale castle as designed by Walt Disney had he been a more controlled artist. Some place!
The Valtionhotelli, said Carey. Built at the turn of the century and genuine Art Nouveau. Come on.
The hotel foyer was elaborately luxurious in an old-fashioned style. The stonework of the entrance was carved with grotesque mythological beasts and was panelled in dark wood. They registered and entered a lift accompanied by a porter carrying the bags.
The porter unlocked a door and stood back deferentially. Carey strode in, followed by Armstrong. He led the way along a wood-panelled corridor into a very large circular bedroom. Ill take the bed on the left, he said as he tipped the porter.
Armstrong looked about him. Not bad. Not bad at all.
Nothing but the best for us civil servants, said Carey. Lets go upstairs and have a drink.
Theres an upstairs?
They climbed a broad winding staircase leading off the corridor. Carey said, This hotel was built back in 1902 when Finland was still a part of Russia. The Finns will give you arguments that it was never a part of Russia, but facts are facts. Imatra was a playground for the St Petersburg aristocracy. The Czar stayed in the hotel probably in this apartment.
They emerged into another large circular room with windows all round. It was furnished with half a dozen easychairs and a long, low table of highly polished wood. A bear skin decorated the wall. Carey strode over to a built-in refrigerator while Armstrong looked through one of the windows. We must be at the top of the main tower.
Thats right. Carey pulled out a bottle. Skâne thats Swedish; Linie its funny the Norwegians think that shipping their booze to Australia and back improves it. Koskenkorva thats local. Stolichnaya what the hell is that doing here? I call it damned unpatriotic. Ah, heres the beer.
Armstrong turned and looked at the array of snaps bottles. Are we expected to be poured into Russia?
Carey winked. The perquisites of the job. Besides, we might have to do a little entertaining.
Oh! He held out field glasses he had found on a window ledge. Someone must have left these behind.
Carey shook his head as he uncapped a beer bottle. Part of the room fittings. This apartment is where they bring the V.I.P.s to give them a little thrill. He picked up a glass and joined Armstrong at the window. See those chimneys?
Armstrong looked out of the window at the smoking factory chimneys. Yes?
Thats Stalins Finger, said Carey. Svetogorsk!
Armstrong put the binoculars to his eyes. The chimneys jumped closer and he could almost distinguish the separate bricks. My God! he said. Its nearly part of Imatra. He stared for a long time then slowly lowered the glasses. What did you say about Stalin?
Stalins Finger thats the local name. After the war the Russians wanted the frontier pushed back so there was the usual conference. Svetogorsk or Enso, as it was then is quite a nice little industrial town making paper. One of the Russians was drawing the revised frontier with a pen on the map but when he got to Enso he found that Stalin had put his finger in the way. He looked up at Stalin and Stalin smiled down on him, so he shrugged and drew the line around Stalins finger. That put Enso in Russia.
The old bastard! said Armstrong.
Sit down and have a beer, said Carey. I want to talk to you about procedure. Ill just nip down and get my briefcase.
Armstrong took a beer from the refrigerator. When Carey came back he indicated the bear skin on the wall. Could that be a Russian bear with its hide nailed to the wall?
It could, said Carey with a grim smile. Thats part of what I want to talk to you about. He put the briefcase on the table and sat down. As far as Im concerned Svetogorsk is Svetogorsk Im a realist. But well be talking to some Finns and well refer to the town throughout as Enso. Theyre a mite sensitive about it.
I can understand that, said Armstrong.
You dont know the half of it, said Carey flatly. This has been my stamping ground all the time Ive been in the service, so listen to some words of wisdom from the old man. Back in 1835 a man called Lönnrot gathered together a lot of folk tales and issued them in verse form that was the Kalevela, the Finnish national epic. It was the first major literary work the Finns ever had of their own, and it formed the basis of the new Finnish culture.
Interesting, said Armstrong. But what the hell?
Just listen, said Carey sharply. The heartland of the Kalevela is Karelia which is now in Russia. The village of Kalevela itself is now Russian. He rubbed the side of his nose. Theres no exact English parallel, but its as though the French had occupied Cornwall and Nottingharnshire and taken over all the King Arthur and Robin Hood legends. Of course, it runs deeper than that here, and some Finns are bitter about it.
They think the Russians pinched their national heritage?
Something like that. Carey drained his glass. Now to politics. After the war President Paasikivi adopted a foreign policy that was new to Finland, and the idea was to remain strictly neutral, rather like Sweden. In actual practice its a neutrality in favour of Russia at all costs no offence must be given to Big Brother in the east. This is known as the Paasikivi Line, and its followed by the current President, Kekkonen. Its like walking a tightrope but its difficult to see what else Finland can do. They already have the example of what happened to Estonia and the other Baltic States.
He got himself another beer. Were going to meet some Finns tonight who dont agree with the Paasikivi Line. Theyre Right Wingers and, personally, Id call them bloody reactionaries, but theyre the boys who are going to get us into Enso. If Kekkonen knew what we were doing here, what little hair he has left would turn white. Hes getting on with the Russians reasonably well and he wants it to stay that way. He doesnt want any incident on the frontier that could cause a diplomatic breach and give Moscow an excuse for making demands. Neither do we so to the Finns we meet tonight we talk softly, and when were in Enso we walk softly.
He fixed Armstrong with a firm eye. And if were caught over there weve done it on our own hook no Finns were involved. Thats bloody important, so keep it in mind. I understand, said Armstrong soberly.
Of course, the whole idea is not to get caught Carey unzipped his briefcase. Here is a street plan of Enso, dated 1939. He unfolded it and spread it on the table. His finger wandered over the surface and then went down. This is the house in which Hannu Merikken lived. He buried his box full of papers in the garden which is something under half an acre but not much under,
Armstrong bent his head over the plan. Thats quite an area. How big is the box?
Meyrick described it as two feet by one-and-a-half by one.
Armstrong did some mental, arithmetic. If we dug a hole at random the chances against hitting it would be over eight hundred to one.
We can do better than that, said Carey. The original idea was to have Meyrick point out the spot he was present when the box was buried. But after all these years his memory had slipped a few cogs. He dipped into the briefcase again. All he could come up with was this.
Armstrong examined the large scale plan which was drawn meticulously in Indian ink. Carey said, There are four trees and the box is buried under one of them but he couldnt remember which one.
At least thats cutting it down to a maximum of four holes.
1944 is a long time ago, said Carey. Three of the trees are no longer there. Look at these. He produced some photographs. These were taken by our Finnish friends about three weeks ago. As Armstrong looked at them, Carey said, I had hoped that taking Meyrick back would jog his memory, but we dont have Meyrick any more, so what were left with is half an acre of ground and one tree. He peered over Armstrongs shoulder and pointed, I think thats the one, but Im not sure.
So we dig, said Armstrong. It will have to be done under cover of darkness.
Carey stared at him. What darkness? I know were not in the Arctic Circle, but even so, theres precious little darkness at this time of year. The most well get is a deep twilight.
Do we have to jump in now? asked Armstrong. Why not wait until later in the year?
Carey sighed. Apart from the fact that these papers are of overwhelming importance, theres one very good reason why we have to go in now. He tapped the street plan. When Merikken was living in this house it was in a good class suburb. But Enso has been expanding, the area has become run-down, and its due for redevelopment. The bulldozers will be moving in before the autumn. Weve got to get in first.
A pity Meyrick didnt make his great discovery a year earlier, commented Armstrong. Anyone living in the house?
Yes; a Russian called Kunayev hes a foreman in one of the paper mills. A wife and three children; one cat no dogs.
So we just go along and start to dig holes all over his garden in broad daylight. Hes going to like that! Armstrong tossed down the photograph. Its impossible!
Carey was unperturbed. Nothing is impossible, my lad. To begin with, the papers are in a tin trunk. Thats a misnomer a tin trunk is made of sheet steel and I have a natty metal detector, small but efficient.
Like a mine detector?
Something like that, but smaller. Small enough for us to take over the border without much risk. I had it specially made up. According to Meyricks dicey memory theres not much more than two feet of earth on top of the box. Ive tested this gadget with a smaller box and even three feet under it gives a signal that blasts your eardrums.