The Grindstone

We meet some of the bad guys and Davies is given an assignment

Chapter two: The grindstone

Moscow

The Taxi struggled it's way through the heaving streets of Russia's capital. Dusty cars, most of them rusted Opals, jostled for position in the blocked thoroughfare. The driver was doing his best to work his way through them with some speed, the man on the back seat was clearly an important person, his suit and demeanour spoke for themselves, even so the cab had yet failed to reach thirty miles per hour.
"Drive faster, curse you!" cried the passenger.
"Comrade, I wish I could, but the traffic�"
Colonel Nikita Grigorivich sighed, he was not an angry man. "I apologise comrade, but I am already late. If you can take me to my destination just a little quicker, I am sure I can make it worth your while." The destination was the Cremlin.
Grigorivich wished he could be in his beautiful Moskvich 408 Tourist, one of only a dozen manufactured for government issue, Comrade Krushchev alone had bought three. The Colonel had been offered a driver, but he preferred to take the wheel himself, smiling as the officious black lacquer and smoked glass cleared the way like a biblical prophet. Unfortunately, the Tourist was currently being serviced, no doubt being manhandled by some uneducated farm-boy.

Generals Nikolaev, Davidovich and Kamorov sat about an enormous oak table adorned with bowls of fresh fruit. They had met many times now and the atmosphere of their discussion was relaxed, almost jovial.
"Your man appears to be late, Leonid" said Kamorov
"He will come" Davidovich replied. "Comrades, I am pleased to tell you that our agent, codename Epeius, is making some considerable headway. He has been in position now for several months, and reports he is finding it easy to influence policy."
"This is indeed good news" said Nikolaev "He has the trust of Helen?"
"Helen?" Kamorov interjected?
"The target, comrade." Davidovich explained, sighing mentally at the prospect of explaining. "We are calling the main target Helen. And yes, everything indicates that he has the full confidence of the Trojan authorities. There was one man, possibly a Trojan agent, who may have been interested. We had him removed."
"Hmm, have his security stepped up nonetheless" said Nikolaev.
"On a separate matter, I am afraid I must relate the death of Prosetilaus. He was killed, I believe, on the orders of Hector."
"It is of little account." said Nikolaev as Davidovich began peeling a tangerine. "Operation grindstone continues. There are others who will take Prosetilaus' place, and several of his recruits are already acting on my orders."
At that point, there was a knock on the door, a young female soldier stepped in.
"Colonel Grigorivich is here to see you, comrade Generals."
"Very good." said Nikolaev. "Send him up, comrade."
After a moment, Grigorivich strode through the door. "Comrade Generals, I apologise for being late. The traffic was terrible."
Nikolaev nodded, "It matters not, comrade Colonel, I am glad you could come. Take a seat."
Grigorivich did so; next to Davidovich who inclined his forehead.

Grigorivich had met with these men several times, but Davidovich was his own superior and had invited him into the circle around nine months ago.
"Mikhail" he had said, superfluous 'comrades' dispersed of in a meeting between old friends. "There are some people who will require your help, friends of mine. We are planning an act of daring, and need your expertise." And so he had joined Red Palace.

The members of Red Palace met regularly within the Cremlin itself, in the guise of organising co-ordination between the military, intelligence and security services. However, they had taken it upon themselves to carry out operations necessary for the advancement of the Soviet Union which would not receive the endorsement of Comrade Krushchev. For a more than a year now, elements of the Russian Army, Secret Service and the KGB had been operating secretly and without orders from above. Since Grigorivich had joined them, they had required him to implement certain procedures and to aid the ends of the circle logistically.

"Comrade Colonel," said Nikolaev "when we saw you last, we asked you to find us a man. A man with certain abilities. Have you found him yet?"
"Yes Comrade General, he is a rather remarkable young man in my own unit. When you first gave me this commission, I thought of him, I was sure the duties you entailed would suit him. Now I am certain."
"Is he loyal to the motherland?"
"No comrade, he is loyal to me. I apologise to be blunt but this man is no Russian and no Communist. He will, however, act upon any orders I give to him; if I tell him to obey the decisions of this conclave, I have no doubt that he will carry them out without hesitation."
"I was hoping for a man we could trust innately."
"Comrade Nikolaev" said Davidovich, "Colonel Grigorivich has my absolute confidence, if he says a man will follow orders then he will do so."
Nikolaev appeared to digest the information.
"Very well" he said, smiling thinly. "We will recruit him. I have no doubt he will be needed. Comrade Colonel Grigorivich, you may leave. There are certain things we must discuss which need not trouble you."
"Thank you, Comrade General, Comrades." He left, glad at the thought of breathing some real air on the street below.

~

Davies was not an amoral man, and the thought of what he had done barely left his mind for the next week. He suffered under an oppressive feeling of worry. What if Hughes' agents hadn't removed the body? What if he was on his own? What did Hughes want with him? These questions were answered suddenly, however, when he received a note, fourteen days after he had killed Carlton.

My dear Davies, the missive read,

I would be most gratified, if you could join me in my home this PM.

I hope your mind is not too troubled; there is much to be done.

Yours,

W. R. Hughes, Hohenzollern Professor of Natural Philosophy (Oxon)


Soon, Davies was rapping his knuckles upon the polished teak of Hughes' lodgings. After several seconds it was open and the Professor was welcoming him in warmly.
"Come in, my boy, come in."
Davies' first impression was the shock of seeing a second person; a middle aged man in an old-fashioned suit that could have been stolen from the rack of one of Westminster's classier clubs.
"May I introduce Sir Anthony Rivers."
Davies took Rivers' hand. His grasp was firm.
"It is a pleasure to meet you individually; may I express my personal thanks for the work you've done for us."
"Sir Anthony" Hughes explained "is the man I answer to in London; he keeps me informed of current events. Now, shall we retire to the smoking room, I believe business must be discussed."
"An excellent idea", commented Sir Anthony.

Port was served, Hughes lit his pipe. Davies and Sir Anthony accepted cigarettes.
"Now" began the strange Knight. "There are certain things you must know. The organisation you have just joined is the Secret Service; Military Intelligence. I am it's Director of Operations. You, as an operative, will receive orders direct from my office or passed through Professor Davies. I need scarcely remind you that what takes place under the aegis of our organisation may not be shared with anyone who has not previously been introduced or directed to you by myself or the Professor. Do you understand?
"Yes sir, of course."
"The title implies what we are; Military Intelligence. We are a large hierarchy of loyal patriots seeking to serve the nation by the gathering of information; and the acting upon thereof. You have already participated in this."
"Carlton."
"That's right. The man you killed was a Soviet mole; a traitor and an enemy of the country. You should feel no remorse for your actions; the Queen herself approves these operations. The penalty for treachery is death, think of it as an execution. "
"I will sir."
"Good boy" said the Professor filling Davies' and his Sir Anthony's glasses.
"Now Davies." Sir Anthony continued "I have a second task for you; one far more challenging than your previous."
Exaggerated images of further executions filled Davies' mind. Was he simply to be a glorified hangman?"
"No, Davies." Anthony said, reading his mind "You won't have to kill anyone; this is a surveillance and espionage mission."
"Sir Anthony" interrupted Davies, "you know that I am currently studying for a degree."
"Yes, I'm aware of that, Mr Davies. I am certain that your assignments will not interrupt your educational obligations; indeed, I am confident that you'll have achieved your B. Phil, first class, by the end of this year."
"But sir-"
"Confident, Mr Davies." His tone of voice left no room for discussion. "Now; to business."
"You see my boy" Hughes began, "Carlton was receiving orders from the KGB; from a man identified as 'Agamemnon', the Russians enjoying classical metaphors as much as ourselves. Now, around a month ago, one of our people went missing while investigating and evaluating the safety of Cabinet Ministers, including the Prime Minister, from assassination and kidnapping. Luckily, we were able to detain the man who pulled the trigger. He refused to talk. However we found papers on his person containing a typed message from the Russian authorities ordering the death of our man. What sparked the interests of Sir Anthony here was that it was signed by this same Agamemnon."
"You see, Mr Davies" said Sir Anthony. " No junior individual will be giving orders in two different areas; assassination and infiltration for instance. As a result, we know that this Agamemnon, assuming that he is a single individual, is top brass."
"I see" said Davies. "And how does this affect me."
"Largely, my boy, it doesn't." Hughes smiled
"All we need you to do" said Sir Anthony "is carry on the work of our deceased agent. We will obtain you a position at the Ministry of Trade and Industry. You will use the cover of being a junior civil servant while actually investigating whether there is any threat emanating from that department as to national security; if you see any suspicious behaviour, anyone acting unlike a civil servant or politician, simply call the Professor and we'll move in. Any questions, Mr Davies?"
"Yes; Professor Hughes, would you mind if I refill my glass?"

~

"Do you think we should have told him more, Anthony?"
"No; remember we're not entirely sure what we know yet. It's best to just let him carry out the assignment and fill him in once what we believe is confirmed to be true. There's no need to fill his mind with complicated facts which may not be real in any case."
"I know, but I feel we owe the lad the truth. I don't know whether these initiations shouldn't be replaced with something less brutal, to ease the recruits into our world. I'd hate him to think we were killers."
"Stop worrying, William, if the boy's as good as you say then he'll carry this one out just fine. And if our methods seem brutal then it's because this is a brutish situation."
"Yes, of course, old boy."

Davies smiled to himself as he moved away from the keyhole, swearing to prove himself to these secretive men.

Author's Note

Punish me with heart