Exocet

It was rather ironic when one considered that this benign and popular man was, in reality, one Victor Marchuk, a Ukranian who had not seen his homeland for thirty years.

The Russians had a number of spy schools in the Soviet Union, each one with a distinctive national flavour. In Glacyna agents were trained to work in English-speaking countries in a replica of an English town, living exactly as they did in the west.

The original Felix Donner, an orphan with no relatives, had been specially selected from a Chinese prison camp and transported to Glacyna where Marchuk could observe him as closely as any prize specimen in a laboratory. It was Marchuk who was eventually returned to Chinese custody to labour in a Manchurian coal mine. As by arrangement he was the only one of the six members of his original unit captured to survive, there was no one to identify the gaunt scarecrow almost four stone under weight, who was released the following year.

But he looked healthy enough as he stood up and stretched later that morning, just before noon, and went to the window of Belov’s apartment.

‘Interesting possibilities.’

‘You think you might be able to do something?’ Belov asked.

Donner shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Let’s have a talk with this Argentinian, Garcia. Tell him to come round with everything he’s got on this whole Exocet thing. Then we see.’

‘Good,’ Belov said. ‘I knew I could rely on you. Excuse me I’ll phone him from my study.’

He went out and Irana Vronsky came in with fresh coffee. Her hair was tied back with a black bow and her neat grey skirt, white blouse, dark stockings, accentuated her charms.

Donner slid his arms round her waist and pulled her against him, savouring her.

‘Is Nikolai looking after you all right?’ he said in Russian. ‘If not, just let me know. Always glad to help.’

‘Bastard,’ she said.

‘It’s been said before,’ he laughed, as she left the room.

Juan Garcia sat by the window with Nikolai Belov and drank coffee in silence, while on the other side of the room Felix Donner sat in a wingback chair by the fire and worked his way through the bulky file the Argentinian had provided.

After a while, the Australian closed the file and reached for a cigarette. ‘An extraordinary business. The Etendard is manufactured by Dassault in which the French government has a 51% holding.’

‘That’s correct,’ Garcia said.

‘And the makers of the Exocet are the state-owned Aerospatiale Industries, the president of which is General Jacques Mitterand, brother of the President of France? An intriguing situation, in view of the fact that the French government has suspended all military aid to the Argentine.’

Garcia said, ‘On the other hand, we were lucky enough to have a team of French technicians already in my country before the outbreak of hostilities. Based at Bahia Blanca they have given invaluable assistance as regards testing and fitting the missile launchers and control systems.’

‘And you have also had other help, I see from the file. This man Bernard, Dr Paul Bernard, would seem to have supplied you with information crucial to the success of the operation.’

‘A brilliant electronic engineer,’ Garcia said. ‘At one time head of one of the research sections at Aerospatiale. Now a professor at the Sorbonne.’

‘His motives interest me,’ Donner said. ‘What are they exactly? Money?’

‘No, it seems he has no love for the English. He phoned the Embassy at the start of things, when President Mitterand announced the embargo. He offered to help in any way he could.’

‘Interesting,’ Donner said.

‘We have considerable sympathy here in many quarters,’ Garcia added. ‘Traditionally, France and Britain have never enjoyed what could be termed a warm relationship.’

Donner opened the file and looked at it again, frowning. Belov waited, admiring the performance.

Garcia said, ‘Can you help us?’

‘I think so. I can say no more than that at this stage. On apurely business footing, of course. Frankly, I’m not interested in the rights and wrongs of this affair. If I can work something out, find you a few Exocets, I should imagine it would cost you in the region of two to three million.’

‘Dollars?’ Garcia asked.

‘My operations are based in the City of London, Señor Garcia,’ Donner told him. ‘I only deal in pounds sterling. And in gold. Do you have that much available?’

Garcia swallowed hard. ‘No problem. The necessary funds are in Geneva now.’

‘Good.’ Donner stood up. ‘I should like to speak to Professor Bernard.’

‘When?’ Garcia asked.

‘As soon as possible.’ Donner looked at his watch. ‘Let’s say at two o’clock this afternoon. Somewhere nice and open.’

‘Two o’clock?’ Garcia looked hunted. ‘I don’t know. It’s very short notice. It may not be convenient.’

‘Then I suggest you make it convenient,’ Donner told him. ‘After all, time is of the essence in this affair. If we are to do anything, it must be within a week or ten days at the outside. After that, I should have thought it would be too late. Wouldn’t you agree?’

‘Of course,’ Garcia said hurriedly, and turned to Belov. ‘May I use the phone?’

‘In the study.’

Garcia went out. Belov said, ‘You have an idea, I think?’

‘Possibly,’ Donner said. ‘Something in that file that could suit our purposes admirably.’

‘You’ll be staying in your apartment in the Rue de Rivoli, I suppose?’

‘That’s right. Wanda has gone ahead to make sure everything’s in apple-pie order.’

‘How is she? As beautiful as ever?’

‘Did I ever settle for anything less?’

Belov laughed. ‘I wonder what you’d do if they decided to recall you home to Moscow after all these years?’

‘Home?’ Donner said. ‘Where’s that? And they wouldn’t. I’m too valuable where I am. I’m the best there is, you know that.’

Belov shook his head. ‘I don’t understand you, Felix. Why do you do it? You’re certainly no patriot and politics you find games for children, you’ve told me that often enough.’

‘It’s the only game in town,’ Donner said. ‘I enjoy every minute of it. I like beating them, Nikolai, whoever they are. It’s as simple as that.’

Belov nodded. ‘I believe you. I really do. Is Stavrou with you?’

‘Downstairs in the car.’

The study door opened and Garcia entered. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘All organised.’