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professors I think, this came to the notice of one the security services who just happened to be looking for someone with that ability for an operation they were planning. I suspect you know the rest.”

“But once you are recruited to the secret service you have joined for life? Is this not so?” the Russian asked.

“I never joined,” explained Kelly. “I agreed to help out on one operation. I’ve had no further contact with the service since.”

“All is clear. I now understand.” The tone was placatory but the Russian looked anything but convinced.

Conversation lulled at that point and Kelly had a chance to get his bearings. They were heading down a wide jetty with only a few small Russian ships moored alongside. At the end, on the right, Kelly could make out a large destroyer. This, presumably, was their destination. With a start, he realized that the ship on the other side of the jetty was flying the union flag. As if reading his mind, Vladeshenko remarked, “British frigate. Hit in the last convoy run. In for a few repairs.”

“Couldn’t I hitch a lift with her?” enquired Kelly hopefully.

Vladeshenko looked uneasy. “I’m not sure when she will be seaworthy. Pretty severely damaged, I’m afraid.”

Kelly said nothing. They were passing the British ship now and he could see no evidence of serious damage.

The staff car pulled up at the gangway of the Ekaterina, which was guarded by a number of armed marines. They left the car and were escorted up the gangway by two of the marines. Whilst Vladeshenko was distracted, Kelly stole a glance at the British frigate no more than sixty yards away across the concrete apron of the jetty. A number of British sailors were watching proceedings, but they could have had no idea that Kelly, dressed as he was in his Russian peasant clothing, was in fact a Royal Navy officer.

As they stepped onto the deck Kelly saluted, as was the custom, after which they were escorted below decks to the wardroom where he was made comfortable, given a sleeping berth, and allowed to use the showers. He exchanged his peasant clothes for sailor’s fatigue dress. At all times at least one of the marines was in sight.

The captain of the vessel joined them in the wardroom and introduced himself as Captain Tzereskova. He was a man of about fifty years, quite old by this war’s standard, but he had a kindly face. He referred to the major simply as ‘Vladeshenko’, omitting the now almost obligatory ‘Comrade’. Clearly, Tzereskova had no time for his army guest.

The Captain then introduced another young man as ‘my Political Officer, Comrade Lieutenant Botvinik’. He did so in an entirely offhand manner, which suggested to Kelly that this gentleman was no great supporter of the current regime.

Gesturing to the others to sit around the table, once they had settled the captain spoke in Russian and in a kindly way to Kelly. The political officer translated what in effect was a greeting and a welcome to the Destroyer Ekaterina. Kelly in return thanked the captain through Botvinik for his hospitality and his accommodation aboard the vessel.

Once formalities had been completed it was Lieutenant Botvinik who appeared to take control. He spoke to Vladeshenko and in response the major embarked on a lengthy prologue punctuated by gestures and frequent references to ‘Kelly’. Occasionally Botvinik interrupted Vladeshenko with what Kelly, judging by the intonation, surmised to be questions. Captain Tzereskova did not speak once during the entire proceedings, staring into space for the most part. On the one occasion their eyes met, the Captain gave a tired, almost resigned smile.

At length, Botvinik turned to Kelly, his face stony. “Lieutenant Kelly, as a gesture of our goodwill you have been transferred from the military post in the harbour to the comfort of this ship. However—”

Kelly felt he knew where this was going and decided he needed to make a point. “You are very kind to accept me onto this ship,” he interrupted. “However, would it not be more sensible to transfer me to the British frigate moored just across the jetty?”

“As I have already explained, the ship is not yet seaworthy,” said Vladeshenko smoothly.

“Then all the more reason to transfer me. I am a Royal Navy Officer and could be indispensable to the captain in helping to return the vessel to seaworthiness,” Kelly retorted.

Tzereskova gazed intently at Kelly but made no comment. Kelly wondered how much he understood, perhaps more than he was prepared to let the others know.

Botvinik and Vladeshenko exchanged glances. Vladeshenko looked somewhat uneasy, but it was the political officer who spoke.

“Unfortunately, there are other issues that need to be considered, Lieutenant Kelly. We are not entirely happy that your story holds together. We may need to interview you further on a number of issues.”

“Are you telling me that you are holding me as a prisoner and intend to interrogate me?” The question was clearly directed at Vladeshenko and Botvinik, but Kelly stared directly into the Russian sea captain’s eyes as he spoke. Tzereskova blinked once, but his gaze never left Kelly. He understands, thought Kelly, and he doesn’t approve.

“No, no!” Vladeshenko held up his hands in protest. “Not at all! We are simply asking of you the courtesy to extend your stay and answer a few questions, that’s all.”

“Have you informed the captain of the British frigate that I am here? And if not, would you be kind enough to do so?” asked Kelly.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible at this time,” Vladeshenko answered quietly.

Tzereskova looked towards Botvinik and asked something in Russian. The Russian began a lengthy monologue, occasionally glancing towards Kelly. Tzereskova looked vaguely annoyed and asked a supplementary question. Botvinik was clearly uncomfortable and was making his point forcefully, frequently shaking his head.

Tzereskova stood up and spoke sharply to Botvinik who sprang to his feet in the position of attention. Vladeshenko remained seated until a withering look from Tzereskova brought him sharply to his feet. He spoke directly to Kelly

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