Kidder! said Denison incredulously.
I thought he turned up a bit too opportunely in Helsinki, said Diana. But the man sounded such a fool I discounted him.
If its any consolation, so did I, said McCready. But you know what it means our cousins of the CIA are muscling in. He took a pair of dry socks from a plastic bag. Unless hes a renegade or a double agent. I fancy the CIA myself. He looked up at Denison who was deep in thought. Whats the matter with you? You look as though youve just been sandbagged.
For Gods sake! said Denison. It was Kidder! He shook his head in a bewildered manner. The man who questioned me after I was knocked out in the sauna. I thought I recognized the voice but I couldnt place it because the American accent had gone.
Are you sure? Dianas voice was sharp.
Im certain. I didnt associate the man with Kidder because wed left him behind in Oslo. He hadnt appeared in Helsinki at that time. Is it important?
Could be, said McCready. Theres one bunch who knows youre not Meyrick the crowd who snatched you from Hampstead. But the man who questioned you assumed you were Meyrick. If it was Kidder then the CIA werent responsible for the resculpting of that unlovely face of yours. All these bits of jigsaw come in handy.
Dr Harding and Lyn will be wondering what happened to us, said Diana.
Denison turned. Ill bring them back. He started to walk up to the top of the ridge but then veered over to the rock where he had kept watch. Something niggled at the back of his mind he wondered how McCready could have got from one side of the camp to the other. The first movement he had seen from the top of the ridge had been by the rock, but McCready had come up the other side from the river.
Denison walked around the rock keeping his eyes on the ground. When McCready had come up his boots had been wet waterfilled and he had left a line of damp footprints over a smooth rock outcrop. Here there was also an outcrop but no footprints. He went to the other side of the rock and out of sight of Diana and McCready.
Something struck him on the back of the head and he felt a blinding pain and was driven to his knees. His vision swam and there was a roaring in his ears. The second thump on the head he did not feel but plunged headlong into darkness.
Twenty-Eight
The bus rocked as it rolled along the narrow country road in the early morning. It was cold and Carey drew his coat closer about him. Armstrong, next to him, looked out of the window at the tall observation tower. It was drawing nearer.
The bus was full of Finns, most of whom were quiet at that early pre-work hour. Two seats ahead of Carey, on the aisle, sat Huovinen. He turned his head and looked back; his eyes were expressionless but Carey thought he could detect worry. Huovinen had been drinking again the previous night and Carey hoped his hangover did not get in the way of his efficiency.
Brakes squealed as the bus drew to a halt and Carey craned his neck to look through the forward windows. A soldier in Finnish uniform walked up and exchanged a few words with the driver, then he smiled and waved the bus on. It jerked into motion again.
Carey took out his pipe and filled it with steady hands. He nudged Armstrong, and said in Swedish, Why dont you have a cigarette? Have you stopped smoking?
Armstrong looked at him in surprise, then shrugged. If Carey wanted him to smoke a cigarette then he would smoke a cigarette. He felt in his pocket and took out a half-empty packet of Finnish cigarettes as the bus stopped again.
The bus drived leaned out of the cab and called to the advancing Russian soldier, Kolmekymmentäkuusi. The soldier nodded and climbed into the bus by way of the passenger door and surveyed the work party. He looked as though he was doing a head count.
Carey struck a match and lit his pipe, cupping his hands about the bowl and shrouding the lower part of his face. He seemed to be doing his best to make a smokescreen. Armstrong caught on fast and flicked on his cigarette lighter, guarding the flame with his hand as though the draught from up front was about to blow it out.
The Russian left the bus and waved it on and it lurched forward with a clash of gears and rolled past the frontier post. Armstrong averted his face from the window as the bus passed an officer, a square man with broad Slavic features. He felt a sudden tightening in his belly as he realized he was in Russia. He had been in Russia many times before, but not as an illegal entry and that had been the subject of a discussion with Carey.
Armstrong had argued for going into Russia quite legitimately through Leningrad. Why do we have to be illegal about it? he asked.
Because wed have to be illegal anyway, said Carey. We couldnt get to Enso legally the Russkies dont like foreigners wandering loose about their frontier areas. And they keep a watch on foreigners in Leningrad; if youre not back at the Europa Hotel they start looking for you. No, this is the best way. Over the border and back short and sharp without them even knowing weve been there.
Black smoke streamed overhead from the factory chimneys as the bus trundled through Enso. It traversed the streets for some minutes and then went through a gateway and halted outside a very long, low building. The passengers gathered up their belongings and stood up. Carey looked at Huovinen who nodded, so he nudged Armstrong and they got up and joined the file behind Huovinen.
They went into the building through an uncompleted wall and emerged into an immense hall. At first Armstrong could not take in what he was seeing; not only was the sight unfamiliar but he had to follow Huovenin who veered abruptly to the right and out of the main stream. He led them around the end of a great machine and stopped where there was no one in sight. He was sweating slightly. I should be getting twice what youre paying me, he said.
Take it easy, counselled Carey. What now?
I have to be around for the next hour, said Huovenin. Laying out the work and a fifteen-minute conference with Dzotenidze. I have to put up with that every morning. He coughed and spat on the floor. I cant lead you out before then.
So we wait an hour, said Carey. Where?
Huovinen pointed. In the machine where else?
Carey turned and looked at the half-constructed machine. Designed for continuous paper-making it was over three hundred yards long and about fifty feet wide. Get in the middle of there and take your coats off, said Huovinen. Ill bring you some tools in about ten minutes. If anyone looks in at you be tightening bolts or something.
Carey looked up at a crane from which a big steel roller hung. Just see that you dont drop that on my head, he said. And dont be longer than an hour. Come on, Ivan.
Armstrong followed Carey as he climbed inside the machine. When he looked back Huovinen had gone. They found a place where there was headroom and Carey took off his coat and looked around. In this snug situation a British working man would be playing cards, he said. I dont know about the Finns.
Armstrong bent and peered through a tangle of complexity. Theyre working, he reported.
Carey grunted. Then lets look busy even if were not.
Presently a man walked by and stooped. There was a clatter of metal on concrete and footsteps hastened away. The tools, said Carey. Get them.
Armstrong crawled out and came back with a selection of spanners and a hammer. Carey inspected them and tried a spanner on the nearest bolt. What we do now, he announced, is to take off this girder and then put it back and we keep on doing that until its time to go. He applied the spanner to a nut and heaved, then paused with a thoughtful look on his face. Just pop your head up there and see what happens when we remove this bit of iron. I dont want the whole bloody machine to collapse.
An hour and a half later they were walking through the streets of Enso. Armstrong still wore his overalls and carried a spade over his shoulder, but Carey had removed his and was now more nattily dressed. He wore, he assured Armstrong, the regulation rig of a local water distribution inspector. In his hand he carried, quite openly, the metal detection gadget. To Armstrongs approval it had a metal plate attached to it which announced in Russian that it was manufactured by Sovelectro Laboratories of Dnepropetrovsk.
As they walked they talked discreetly and in Russian. Armstrong noted the old-fashioned atmosphere of the streets of Enso. It was, he thought, occasioned by the Russian style of dress and he could be in the nineteen-thirties. He always had that feeling when he was in Russia. I nearly had a heart attack when that bloody man wanted to know where Virtanen was, he said.
It had been a tricky moment. The Chief Engineer, Dzotenidze, had stood by the machine quite close to them while he interrogated Huovinen as to the whereabouts of Lassi Virtanen. Those screens arent right, he said in Russian. Virtanen isnt doing his work properly.
An interpreter transmitted this to Huovinen, who said, Virtanen hasnt been feeling too well lately. An old war wound. In fact, hes not here today hes at home in bed.
Dzotenidze had been scathing but there was nothing he could do about it. See that hes back on the job as soon as possible, he said, and stalked away.
Armstrong said, I could have stretched out my hand and touched him.
Huovinen could have come up with a better story, said Carey grimly. What happens if that engineer checks back and finds that the bus came in with a full crew? Still, theres nothing we can do about it.
They walked on for five minutes in silence. Armstrong said, How much farther?
Not far just around the corner. Carey tapped him on the arm. Now, Ivan, my lad; youre a common working man, so let your betters do the talking. If you have to talk youre slow and half-witted and as thick as two planks as befits a man who wields an idiot stick. He indicated the spade.
The heroic worker, in fact.
Precisely. And Im the technician controlling the magic of modern science and haughty to boot. They turned the corner. Theres the house. Carey regarded it critically. It looks pretty run-down.