Winter of the World

Chuck was shaken. If he was responsible for an error that had killed fifty men, he deserved to be shouted at. ‘This is what we had to work on,’ he said. The file contained an inaccurate map of the islands that might have been Victorian, and a more recent naval chart that showed sea depths but almost no terrain features. There were no on-the-spot reports and no wireless decrypts. The only other item in the file was a blurred black-and-white aerial reconnaissance photograph. Putting his finger on the relevant spot in the photo, Chuck said: ‘It sure looks as if the trees come all the way to the waterline. Is there a tide? If not, the sand might have been covered with algae when the photograph was taken. Algae can bloom suddenly, and die off just as fast.’

Donegan said: ‘You wouldn’t be so goddamn casual about it if you had to fight over the terrain.’

Maybe that was true, Chuck thought. Donegan was aggressive and rude, and he was being egged on by the malicious Vandermeier, but that did not mean he was wrong.

Vandermeier said: ‘Yeah, Dewar. Maybe you and your nancy-boy friend should go with the marines on their next assault. See how your maps are used in action.’

Chuck was trying to think of a smart retort when it occurred to him to take the suggestion seriously. Maybe he ought to see some action. It was easy to be blasé behind a desk. Donegan’s complaint deserved to be taken seriously.

On the other hand, it would mean risking his life.

Chuck looked Vandermeier in the eye. ‘That sounds like a good idea, Captain,’ he said. ‘I’d like to volunteer for that duty.’

Donegan looked startled, as if he was beginning to think he might have misjudged the situation.

Eddie spoke for the first time. ‘So would I. I’ll go, too.’

‘Good,’ said Vandermeier. ‘You’ll come back wiser – or not at all.’

(iii)

Volodya could not get Woody Dewar drunk.

In the bar of the Hotel Moskva he thrust a glass of vodka in front of the young American and said in schoolboy English: ‘You’ll like this – it’s the very best.’

‘Thank you very much,’ said Woody. ‘I appreciate it.’ And he left the glass untouched.

Woody was tall and gangly and seemed straightforward to the point of naivety, which was why Volodya had targeted him.

Speaking through the interpreter, Woody said: ‘Is Peshkov a common Russian name?’

‘Not especially,’ Volodya replied in Russian.

‘I’m from Buffalo, where there is a well-known businessman called Lev Peshkov. I wonder if you’re related.’

Volodya was startled. His father’s brother was called Lev Peshkov and had gone to Buffalo before the First World War. But caution made him prevaricate. ‘I must ask my father,’ he said.

‘I was at Harvard with Lev Peshkov’s son, Greg. He could be your cousin.’

‘Possibly.’ Volodya glanced nervously at the police spies around the table. Woody did not understand that any connection with someone in America could bring down suspicion on a Soviet citizen. ‘You know, Woody, in this country it’s considered an insult to refuse to drink.’

Woody smiled pleasantly. ‘Not in America,’ he said.

Volodya picked up his own glass and looked around the table at the assorted secret policemen pretending to be civil servants and diplomats. ‘A toast!’ he said. ‘To friendship between the United States and the Soviet Union!’

The others raised their glasses high. Woody did the same. ‘Friendship!’ they all echoed.

Everyone drank except Woody, who put his glass down untasted.

Volodya began to suspect that he was not as naive as he seemed.

Woody leaned across the table. ‘Volodya, you need to understand that I don’t know any secrets. I’m too junior.’

‘So am I,’ said Volodya. It was far from the truth.

Woody said: ‘What I’m trying to explain is that you can just ask me questions. If I know the answers, I’ll tell you. I can do that, because anything I know can’t possibly be secret. So you don’t need to get me drunk or send prostitutes to my room. You can just ask me.’

It was some kind of trick, Volodya decided. No one could be so innocent. But he decided to humour Woody. Why not? ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I need to know what you’re after. Not you personally, of course. Your delegation, and Secretary Hull, and President Roosevelt. What do you want from this conference?’

‘We want you to back the Four-Power Pact.’

It was the standard answer, but Volodya decided to persist. ‘This is what we don’t understand.’ He was being candid now, perhaps more than he should have, but instinct was telling him to take the risk of opening up a little. ‘Who cares about a pact with China? We need to defeat the Nazis in Europe. We want you to help us do that.’

‘And we will.’

‘So you say. But you said you would invade Europe this summer.’

‘Well, we did invade Italy.’

‘It’s not enough.’

‘France next year. We’ve promised that.’

‘So why do you need the pact?’

‘Well.’ Woody paused, collecting his thoughts. ‘We have to show the American people how it’s in their interests to invade Europe.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’