‘And if we find nothing?’
‘Then it will be a secret the five of us take to our graves.’
Karin’s stepfather opened the front door of the cottage and welcomed her with an unusually warm smile.
‘I have some good news to share with you,’ he said as she stepped into the house, ‘but it will have to wait until later.’
Could it just be possible, thought Karin, that this nightmare was finally coming to an end? Then she saw a copy of The Times lying on the kitchen table, open at the obituaries page. She stared at the familiar photograph of Baroness Forbes-Watson and wondered if it was just a coincidence, or if he had left it open simply to provoke her.
Over coffee, they talked of nothing consequential, but Karin could hardly miss the three suitcases standing by the door, which appeared to herald imminent departure. Even so, she became more anxious by the minute, as Pengelly remained far too relaxed and friendly for her liking. What was the old army expression, ‘demob happy’?
‘Time for us to talk about more serious matters,’ he said, placing a finger to his lips. He went out to the hallway and removed his heavy overcoat from a peg by the door. Karin thought about making a run for it, but if she did, and all he was going to tell her was that he was returning to Moscow, her cover would be blown. He helped her on with her coat and accompanied her outside.
Karin was taken by surprise when he gripped her arm firmly and almost marched her down the deserted street. Usually she linked her arm in his so that any passing stranger would assume they were father and daughter out for a walk, but not today. She decided that if they came across anyone, even the old colonel, she would stop and talk to him, because she knew Pengelly wouldn’t dare take a risk if there was a witness present. Like all spies, he assumed everyone else was a spy.
Pengelly continued his jovial banter. This was so out of character Karin became even more apprehensive, her eyes darting warily in every direction, but no one appeared to be taking a constitutional on that bleak, grey day.
Once they reached the edge of the woods, Pengelly looked back, as he always did, to see if anyone was following them. If there was, they would retrace their steps and head back to the cottage. But not this afternoon.
Although it was barely four o’clock, the light was already beginning to fade and it was becoming darker by the minute. He gripped her elbow more firmly as they stepped off the road and on to a path that led into the woods. His voice changed to match the cold night air.
‘I know you’ll be pleased to hear, Karin’ – he never called her Karin – ‘that I’ve been promoted and will soon be returning to Moscow.’
‘Congratulations, comrade. Well deserved.’
He didn’t loosen his grip. ‘So this will be our last meeting,’ he continued. Could she possibly hope that . . . ‘But Marshal Koshevoi has entrusted me with one final assignment.’ Pengelly didn’t elaborate, almost as if he wanted her to take her time thinking about it. As they walked deeper into the woods, it was becoming so dark that Karin could hardly see a yard in front of her. Pengelly, however, seemed to know exactly where he was going, as if every pace had been rehearsed.
‘The head of counter-surveillance,’ he said calmly, ‘has finally uncovered the traitor in our ranks, the person who has for years been betraying the motherland. I have been chosen to carry out the appropriate retribution.’
His firm grip finally relaxed and he released her. Her first instinct was to run, but he had chosen the spot well. A clump of trees behind her, to her right the disused tin mine, to her left a narrow path she could barely make out in the darkness, and towering above her, Pengelly, who couldn’t have looked calmer or more alert.
He slowly removed a pistol from the pocket of his overcoat, and held it menacingly by his side. Was he hoping she would make a run for it, so it would take more than a single bullet to kill her? But she remained rooted to the spot.
‘You’re a traitor,’ said Pengelly, ‘who has done more damage to our cause than any agent in the past. So you must die a traitor’s death.’ He glanced in the direction of the mine shaft. ‘I’ll be back in Moscow long before they discover your body, if they ever do.’
He raised the gun slowly until it was level with Karin’s eyes. Her last thought before he pulled the trigger was of Giles.
The sound of a single shot echoed through the woods, and a flock of starlings flew high into the air as her body slumped to the ground.
HARRY AND EMMA CLIFTON
1978–1979
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