Sections 5 & 6

Section 5

Wiggins started walking.
Twenty minutes later his phone rang.
“Yes?” he answered.
“Bland; where on earth are you John? I thought you'd be here by now.”
“You know me. I'm taking the long way. I'll see you soon.”
With his usual caution Wiggins had walked the whole block counter-clockwise and was now repeating the circuit clockwise, checking any variation in what he had observed on the first circuit.
The area was not busy at this time of night and what traffic he saw was mostly taxis or take-away deliveries. On his second circuit one or two private cars were parked on the street where there had been none before but they were not occupied. One or two private cars had left since his first circuit. He walked up the drive to the front door of Oakfields.
The door was opened as soon as he rang the bell and he was glad to see that the hallway was dark behind Bland.
“Come right in John,” Bland said.
He did so and Bland closed the door behind him.
“I guessed you'd want that. Do you really think you're under surveillance?”
"I know it. I just don't know by whom."
“Well come away in. You'll want a meal?”
“If it's no trouble”
“Trouble? Rose started on it as soon as I told her you were coming. We eat late. You know that. So its no bother to us to add a bit. Come, have a sherry while she finishes it off.”
He led the way to the lounge.
“Just sit down John. Anywhere,” he added as Wiggins hovered in the centre of the room. “You look as if you need to relax and you can certainly do that here. You're safe.” he turned to a sideboard and lifted out three glasses and a bottle of sherry.
“There you go.” He handed a brimming glass to Wiggins. “I'll give this one to Rose and be right with you.” He left the room and was back almost at once.
Wiggins had taken a seat, an armchair by the fireplace. Bland sat in an identical chair on the opposite side. “Cheers.” He raised his glass.
Wiggins raised his in return. “Confusion to the enemy,” he said.
Bland nodded and sipped his drink, "Whoever they are."
“Sorry about this —“ Wiggins began, but Bland interrupted.
“Don't worry about it. We'll talk about this after we've eaten. Don't let's spoil a good dinner. Not that I'm not curious to hear about your problem and see what I can do to help.”
“You're helping already. I just didn't know if you could contain your curiosity.”
“Best to, I think.” Bland nodded towards the kitchen.
“Right.” Wiggins looked around the room. “Where's this you've been off to now?” he asked, pointing to a photograph on the mantelpiece.
“Ah. New grandchild, Canada. We were there in February. You can see the snow.”
“Don't get him started on Canada before we sit down to dinner John.”Bland's wife, Rose, had come out of the kitchen. Wiggins stood up. “Sorry I didn't come to say hello sooner, John,”she went on. "I couldn't leave the cooking. Dinner's ready now if you men are ready for me to dish it up,”
“That's fine dear." Bland stood up. “Come on to the dining room then John.”

Later, dinner over and thoroughly up to date with the details of Bland's tribe of grandchildren, Wiggins and Bland once more sat opposite each other in the lounge. Rose had gone to bed, pleading the need for an early night. Each man had a large tumbler of whisky in his hand and the bottle stood on a table near at hand. Bland looked at Wiggins expectantly.
Wiggins recapped the events of the day, concisely but omitting no detail. He offered no speculation or opinion about them.
“An excellent report John,” Bland said. “So why would Polesden, behave as he did?”
Wiggins offered his concerns about Polesden's loyalties from the time of his service in Germany.
“Or was he a double agent for our side?” Bland wondered.
“I've wondered that. But he fouled up a number of significant missions.”
“Significant to whom? How would you know John?”
Wiggins shrugged. “A lot of lives seemed to be put at risk unnecessarily.”
“Including yours,” Bland chuckled. “Again, define unnecessary.”
“OK,” Wiggins agreed. “But an operation like today's is plainly aimed at getting rid of an embarrassment, namely me. So long after my return from Germany it has to be suspicious.”
Bland nodded. “Plus,” he added, “the information you extorted from young Seb.”
“I didn't extort anything,” Wiggins protested. He went on, “By the way, do you know anything about him or about his boss.”
“I don't know anything about Seb. I'd heard they were bringing in some lads from the forces who had been serving in the recent conflicts but I haven't heard any names. Major Crane though, I have heard about. I can confirm what you heard from Seb. His appointment caused a bit of a stir as you might imagine it would; lot of disappointed people seeing their promotion fall through the floor. Maybe that's what brought this operation about. Do you think?”
“Its a bit of an over reaction to a lost promotion.”
“Of itself maybe. What if the external recruitment jeopardised a bigger plan? Suppose the next step in some scheme depended on, say, Polesden, getting a post as head of the German Section so he was in control of the communications nodes or privy to information across the service.
“That might do it.”
“Your friend Seb seems to think that Major Crane was put in to root out some plan to compromise the Section. What's more he seems to think the Major is getting somewhere.”
“He does.”
“You're not sure.”
“Bland, I've been so close to this for so long that I don't really know who to trust.”
“Which is why you took nearly three-quarters of an hour to get here from the High Street. John Wiggins's legendary caution.” Bland grinned. “John, do you know how annoying that has been for some of the people to whom you report?”
“Including Polesden,” Wiggins pointed out.
“Including Polesden,” Bland agreed. “Especially Polesden, in fact. But then the evidence suggests you have every reason for that. Anyway, what are you going to do tomorrow about contacting the Major?”
“You think I should?”
“What do you think, John. That's what counts. I can't tell you what to do. Apart from any other consideration, if it is the wrong call I don't want to have you blaming me for it.”
“I wouldn't do that.”
“That's easy to say now. You'd likely end up thinking that I was in Polesden's pocket.”
“Are you saying I'm wrong about him?”
“John, I already said that it seemed you may have been right about him. I only have your story to go on. I've told you what I hear about the Major, you've talked to Seb. It sounds as if the Major has reached the same view you have without talking to you. Now he'd like to talk to you. What do you think would be sense to do?”
“OK. I'll talk to him. I need to work out the logistics.” .
“What's there to work out?”
“I won't call from this area; that's what they'll be expecting —“
“Not from you John,” Bland chuckled.
Wiggins grinned in appreciation. “Maybe. But they'll still be set for tracing a call in this area and if the other side has wind of it, if there is another side, then they'll be set up for it too.”
“I'll drive you to Reading. You can call them while we're on the M4. We can drop off at Newbury if you then decide you want to go back into London or drop out of sight in Hampshire or beyond.”
“Plenty of scope,” Wiggins mused. “Risk is they trace me to the M4 and put in a roadblock.”
“Seriously, John, how likely is it they they would have time to do that? They don't know you're going to be on the road so they're not likely to have the resources in place, leave alone have time to mobilise them. Anyway, I don't suppose you don't intend to be on the phone to Major Crane all that long.”
“You're right of course. Yes. It's low risk. But I can't let you get involved.”
Bland exploded. “Can't let me get involved. What do you think I am now, John?” He went on without waiting, “Involved. That's what I am and have been since you dialled my phone this evening. And I want to be involved. I want to make one more move for the service. Don't try to keep me out of this.”
“I know I got you involved to an extent, Bland. I just want to limit the extent.”
“Well I don't want you to. Is there any other reason I shouldn't go in deeper than I am now?”
Wiggins did not answer.
“There you are then,” Bland said. Best turn in then. Could be a busy day tomorrow. When would you like to start?"
“Six o'clock sound right to you?”
“Six o'clock alarm, then,” Bland agreed. “You know your way to the bedroom. Goodnight John. I'll just tidy up down here.”
As Wiggins went up the stairs Bland carried the glasses to the kitchen and started to run the tap. He pulled a mobile phone from his shirt pocket and keyed in a speed dial number. His call was answered by a machine. The coded response confirmed that his call had reached its correct destination. At the tone he said, “Troglodyte; the ball is in play.” Then he cut the call, pocketed the phone and started to wash the glasses.

At his home in Barnet Harry Polesden pored over a file. It was not a departmental file but its contents were copies departmental documents or his own notes of departmental information that he had assembled over the years. Possession of this information in this form was a breach of regulations that would lead to a term of imprisonment if it was ever discovered. The file was a distillation of the career histories of many members of the service who had had links, however tenuous to the East German Office and the officers who served in it. It included details of private addresses where Polesden had been able to discover these. He was looking for contacts with John Wiggins.

Section 6

At six-twenty Wiggins gulped down a cup of scalding coffee then slipped out of Bland's front door. He walked down the drive and then along the street, heading away from the High Street.
Soon he heard a car behind him, Bland's Rover. He gave an almost imperceptible wave, “OK”. The Rover pulled to the kerb just ahead of him and he slipped into the passenger seat. He adjusted the rear view mirror on the passenger door so that he could watch the traffic behind them as Bland drove round the block and towards the High Street.
Bland drove to Coulsdon to pick up the M23 south then joined the M25 clockwise, heading for the M4. Even at this early hour the road was heavily trafficked but Bland assured him it was nowhere near as bad as it would be shortly.
At five minutes to eight they passed the junction to Reading. At eight o'clock, as the car cruised westwards Wiggins dialled the number he had been given by Seb.
“Blackburn and Pike, how may I help you?” a voice asked.
“Hall, for Mr Pike.” Wiggins repeated the formula that would tell her that an operative in the East German office wanted to speak to the head of the German section.
“Which Mr Hall, please?”
“Richard.”
“One moment please.”
There was a pause, then, “Mr Hall. Pike here. So good of you to call. And so promptly too.”
“I was told you might want to talk with me.”
“That's right. Are you willing to talk to me?”
“You should already know what I would have to say.”
“I think I probably do if you are talking about Halle, developments post wall, Polesden.”
“I am.”
“I'd like to discuss a current threat that may have its origins in those matters, or perhaps is are hidden within those matters.”
“What does that have to do with what happened yesterday?”
“I'm not sure. Perhaps you'll be able to give me a steer on that when we talk.”
“So what happened yesterday doesn't mean that I am now a fugitive?”
“Not from me. Not from the German section.”
“But?”
“But nothing. There may be an element in the service that has its own agenda. Reports you've made suggest it. I'm looking at that. I believe I've neutralised operatives who may be a part of that. I now need to move forward to establish the truth of that and the scale and depth of it if that is the case. That's why I need you.”
“An assignment then?”
“Quite probably. We can't discuss this at any length on a phone. I need to meet you.”
“Just you and me?”
“And Seb, I think. You'll need a contact and I may not be the best because of my other areas of interest.”
“And if we meet but you can't persuade me, what then?”
“You go free and clear as far as the service is concerned. We can discuss your retirement. Of course if there is a rogue element then I shan't be able to speak for them. I expect you'll have your own assessment of the risks from them.”
“Where would we meet?”
“If you suggest a venue then the only people who will know it are Seb and myself. The sooner the better.”
“Out of London?”
“Wherever you suggest.”
“Today?”
“I'm ready to set out as soon as you suggest a venue.”
“The Dog and Partridge, just outside Chippenham, noon. You and Seb. I shall have one companion. OK?”
“Seb and I will be there. Thank you John.”
Wiggins cut the call. “You got that?” he asked Bland.
“Chippenham then,” Bland replied.
“Time to get off the motorway,” Wiggins told him, eyes glued to the rear view mirror.

The first thing that Polesden did when he arrived at work was to call the head of the German section.
“I'm afraid Major Crane is not available,” he was told.
“Could he call me as soon as he can.” Polesden rang off.
He then drew out the notes he had made the night before.
He had found no pattern in the connections between Wiggins and the other operatives of the German office. He telephoned a former colleague, now retired, Pat Cavanagh. After a preliminary exchange of pleasantries Polesden asked, “Do you remember John Wiggins?”
“Wiggins? Should I remember him Harry?”
“That might depend, Pat. Wiggins was pretty erratic. Spent a lot of time in East Germany before and after the wall came down. Got a bit paranoid; thought that the rest of us were out to blow his cover; after the wall came down he accused the old East German office of betraying the people who had made it possible for the wall to be opened.”
“Wasn't that your pigeon Harry? Weren't you over there too, Leipzig, Dresden, Halle.”
“That's right. But I never alleged that the service had been infiltrated by the Stasi or that the West Germans were using former GDR agents and jeopardising the peace.”
“This, what did you call him, Wiggins, did he do that?”
“After you left, perhaps, Pat.”
“Yes. I suppose. I never heard of this. Someone once told me that there was a suspicion about a mole in the East German office. Don't remember who. I'd retired by then. I think I heard later that it had all been sorted out. I didn't ask how.”
“No one mentioned this Wiggins then?”
“Not to me.”
“He was stood down on sick leave a couple of times. You know, “Take a few weeks away from the job; come back when you're straight.””
“I saw a lot of that Harry. Weren't you —“
“I was Pat. I never went. I was wondering if you might know where Wiggins went.”
“Happening again is it? He must be getting a bit long in the tooth to be a field agent.”
“He's not. Not any more. He does Analysis and Oversight. Makes it worse in some ways because he's not in the field so he doesn't know what it's really like over there. Result is he's ready to believe the agents when they beef.”
“Oh, and do they beef, Harry. You have my sympathy.”
“But you don't know where Wiggins might have been when we had him recuperating.”
“Not me. Have you tried Bland. I think he's somewhere in Purley or that way. Had a big house, guest house I think. Used to have agents stay there; useful way to keep an eye on them Bufton used to say when he was chief.”
“Thanks Pat. That's useful to know about. Look after yourself; I'll be in touch.”
“Good to talk to you. I wish some of my other former colleagues kept in touch like you do.”
Polesden grinned as he put down the phone. He added his notes of the conversation to the notes he had made last night. He would update his file when he got home.
He telephoned a number in central personnel.
“Claudia; Polesden here.”
“Harry. What can I do for you today?”
“Bland; does that ring any bells?”
There was a sigh at the other end. “I'll see what I can find out Harry.”
“Soon as you can, dear. It's a bit urgent.”
He hung up the phone.

Bland left the motorway and soon picked up the A4. Wiggins continued to watch the rear view mirror. Outside Chippenham he told Bland to pull in at a lay-by. It was nine-thirty..
“What now?” Bland asked.
“We wait.”
At eleven-thirty Wiggins indicated that they should drive on. When they arrived at the Dog and Partridge he told Bland to drive to the rear of the building and park at the far end of the car park. Bland switched off the engine and opened his door.
“Stay in the car. We wait until they arrive,” Wiggins told him.
“You're sure they're not already here?”
“I'm not sure of anything. Put the key back in the ignition and be ready to start the car and leave at any moment.”
Several cars drove into the car park but there was ample parking between them and the building and Wiggins watched as lone drivers parked near to the pub and entered without paying any special attention to the other cars in the car park. At last a car with a driver and a passenger arrived. Wiggins watched Seb get out and lock the car. He and his passenger stood by the vehicle and scanned the car park. Wiggins watched carefully to see if anyone gave some recognition signal, a flash of lights, a wave, from any of the parked cars or if there was any kind of signal from Seb or his passenger. He saw none.
“Here we go,” he muttered, opening his door and stepping out.
Bland stepped out too.
Wiggins waved his hand in greeting and Seb waved back. Wiggins and Bland walked to the car beside which Seb and Major Crane stood. They greeted each other as colleagues would and walked together into the pub.
The building was an old farmhouse converted after centuries of occupation by generations of a family of yeoman farmers. It rambled hither and yon over its site, full of unexpected turns and twists and short staircases that carried its corridors up and down the contours of the site where rooms had been added as the family grew and its needs changed. Wiggins led them to a secluded back parlour, the last in the house, and took a table in the furthest corner of the room. He took the seat in the corner from which he would see the entrance to the parlour and the corridor behind it. Major Crane took the seat beside him.
“My shout I think John,” he said. “What will you have. Seb will get them.”
There was companionable chatter while they perused menus, made selections and gave their orders to Seb. While Seb was at the bar Major Crane spoke to Wiggins.
“You know Seb, John, you met him yesterday. Obviously you know who I am supposed to be and Seb and I know you. Who is your companion?”
“This is Bland. At one time he was head of Group seven,” Wiggins explained.
Major Crane and Bland nodded an acknowledgement to each other.
“One of us then,” Major Crane murmured. “And John trusts you,” he added.
Wiggins and Bland nodded in unison.
“Good. As soon as Seb is back we'll get down to business.”
They sat in silence, waiting until Seb returned carrying a tray of drinks and the numbered wooden spoon that identified their table.

Harry Polesden was chewing a sandwich at his desk when his phone rang.
“Claudia, Harry,” the caller announced. "Got that information you wanted.”
Polesden reached for a pen and a scratch pad.
“He used to be head of Group seven. Retired now. Lived in Purley. He and his wife ran a guest house. We used to put up people there, agents, contacts, whatever. Obviously it had some benefits having one of ours on the spot so to speak.”
“Address?”
She told him.
“Is he still there?”
“That's the address we have registered for him.”
“Is he still in the guest house business?”
“It doesn't say.”
“Thank you Claudia. Good work.”
“Good bye, Harry.”
He could tell from the tone of her voice that she wanted to say, “and don't call me again.”
He called central support and booked out a car for delivery as soon as possible,
“Be with you at two, sir,” he was told.