CHAPTER THREE

PRISONER EXCHANGE

“Lord Gloria, I think you may have misunderstood,” Ivanov said as he took in the Earl’s entourage and luggage. “My request was for you alone to accompany me.”

Eroica’s eyebrows went up. “Was it, indeed?” he said innocently. He had understood perfectly what the man had said, but that wasn’t about to stop him from seeing what he could get away with. “Will there be someone to look after me at the other end of this frightfully long journey?”

Bonham had to fight not to laugh as Ivanov’s eyes crossed. How the Earl loved to play with stuffed shirts like this man.

“I’m sure my colleague will have all that in hand, Lord Gloria,” Ivanov replied coolly.

“Oh, well, that’s alright then,” Eroica replied breezily, waving a hand in the air. He turned to his men. “Bonham, have my things put in the car, please.”

“Yes, m’lord,” Bonham said crisply, giving a slight bow before waving a hand to the others.

“My Lord,” James moaned, “you simply mustn’t go alone!”

“I’m sure Mr. Ivanov will take good care of me, James,” Eroica replied mildly.

“What if they try to kidnap you and hold you for ransom?” James said firmly.

“I’m sure you’d wear them down to a good price.”

“My lord!”

“Anyway,” Eroica went on calmly, “someone has to oversee things while I’m away. And who better than you?”

James paused, a perplexed expression passing over his face. This was true. The others would never catalog everything correctly. Nor would they keep a proper accounting of the time they spent on the job.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” Eroica said breezily, watching as the last of his luggage was loaded in the waiting limousine. Before James could object further, the Earl gave him a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You can give me a full and private accounting of everything that went on while I was gone,” he whispered in his ear.

“Uh…uh, er…um,” James stammered. He was unable to see for the stars in his eyes, his heart soaring. “Yes! Oh, yes, my lord! Yes, yes!”

Eroica gave a bright smile before he turned on his heel and left the building. Bonham watched as he got into the waiting limousine, which drove of in the direction of the train station.

“Back to work, Bonham!” James called as he made his way back to the elevator. “We must get everyone back to work. I want to have a long report to give Lord Gloria when he returns.”

Bonham sighed and followed after the accountant. “You reckon that German’s collection really is a ‘oard o’ Nazi paintings?” he asked. “Or just another rumor?”

James gave a derisive snort. “So long as it’s nothing to do with that German machine maniac.” Then a sudden thought struck him and he looked up sharply. “He’s a Neo-Nazi expert! What if they’ve called him in, too?”

“That’s ‘ardly likely, is it?” Bonham broke in before James could begin whining in earnest. “The Commie’s aren’t likely t’ be callin’ in Uncle NATO, are they?”

* * *

Heathrow Airport
London, England
August 1987

The Major had taken Agents A, B and Z along to take care of any of the details that might have been overlooked in what seemed to him to have been a very hurriedly arranged exchange.

The men had scarcely left the gate when they were met by a member of SIS. The Major inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it wasn’t that idiot Bond wannabe Lawrence. He and his men were taken to a security area where two other agents with the ridiculously unoriginal code names of Smith and Jones were waiting with a handcuffed prisoner.

The Major looked the latter up and down and wondered what was so special about this particular individual that necessitated assigning Iron Klaus to escort him to Moscow. “Your code name?” he asked calmly.

“Siberian Shadow,” came the startling reply.

The Major’s eyebrows went up. Impressive. So this was the man who had managed to break into Buckingham Palace and get all the way to the Queen’s bedroom before being caught. The public had been told it was a disturbed individual, while the intelligence community was abuzz with the story. Siberian Shadow had been a thorn in the side of SIS security for nearly a decade, and very likely the one behind the half dozen security breaches at the Palace that year alone before he was finally caught. When was that? Klaus thought, searching his memory. July of 1982.

“You’ve been a guest of Her Majesty for some time,” he said finally.

“Five years,” Siberian Shadow replied. His eyes narrowed. “And you are the infamous Iron Klaus. Someone must think I’m rather important. No doubt I’ll receive a hero’s welcome when I return home.”

The Major grunted, thinking it would be more likely this poser would be packed off to Siberia to live up to his name. “Let’s go,” he said curtly, waving a hand to the others.

Klaus had the SIS men take the lead, the prisoner between them, while he followed behind. It was all too obvious that the prisoner wasn’t the only one who was slightly unnerved by this.

“Major, wouldn’t you like to walk ahead of us?” Jones asked apprehensively as they made their way through the terminal.

“I’d rather have him where I can see him,” the Major replied coldly. Especially since he was the only one being permitted to carry a gun into the Soviet Union.

Agent B had gone to make certain all the paperwork was in order so there would be no delays. Agent Z was sent ahead to the gate to give it a security sweep while Agent A stayed with the first SIS man, having been charged with calling ahead to Berlin, the first stop on the journey to Moscow. The Major and his subordinates would go to Berlin via a commercial carrier. After this, the Major, the SIS men, and Siberian Shadow would be transferred to a military jet that would take them directly to the Soviet Union. They would then be taken to the Lubyanka, where the so-called exchange would take place.

At the same time the Major and the others were in route to Moscow, a KGB contingent would also be taking a prisoner to an undisclosed location. After all this was concluded, the Major and his British counterparts would join the group of businessmen at the conference and leave the Soviet Union with them.

It all seems very straightforward. All the paperwork had been in order. Agent A had verified that a plane was already waiting for the Major’s arrival in Berlin. On top of this, the Kremlin had reiterated its desire for this gesture of openness to go off without a hitch.

When they arrived at the gate, Agent Z drew the Major’s attention to a familiar face among the crowd of relatives saying their goodbyes. The Major halted the others and turned to Z. “How long has he been there?”

“He was there when I came to check the area, sir,” Z replied in a low voice.

The Major nodded and then turned to the crowd, a cheerful expression on his face. “Now there’s a face I didn’t expect to be seeing me off,” he said happily, crossing to the KGB agent, Polar Bear.

Polar Bear scowled. How he hated when the Major greeted him in this manner.

“After what happened in Austria,* I thought you’d be living in Siberia by now,” the Major said.
* Emperor Waltz

“I think you have me confused with a different courier,” Polar Bear replied.

The Major’s eyes flickered. So somebody did go to Siberia after that cock up. Good. “Making sure your Comrade gets off on schedule?” he asked coldly.

“I didn’t believe it when they told me that Iron Klaus would actually be taking Siberian Shadow to Moscow.”

“Orders are orders,” the Major said dismissively. “Would I be correct in assuming there’ll be a similar greeting party in Berlin?”

“Perhaps…” Polar Bear said evasively. “I should think the greeting party in Moscow would be of more concern to you.”

The Major waved a hand in the air. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a personal guest of your General Secretary Gorbachev.” He could not resist the small smile that twisted the edges of his mouth at the astonished look this announcement produced. “With full diplomatic status,” he added smugly.

The conversation ended when the final boarding call came over the public address system. The Major turned to see his alphabets patiently waiting beside the nervous looking SIS men, who stood twitching and glancing towards the gate. Idiots. Do they think I’m gonna miss the plane?

Within half an hour, the plane was lifting off. The Major settled back in his seat and lit a cigarette. Despite the appearance of Polar Bear, things were going much too well for his liking. Even without his subordinates around to screw things up at the final destination, he was certain something would go wrong. But at least there was no possible way for Eroica to show up and make a mess of things. There was no way the Earl would go anywhere near the KGB.

* * *

Somewhere South of Leningrad, Soviet Union
August 1987

“This collection I’m to be looking at,” Eroica said calmly. “Where is it, exactly?”

“Apparently, it’s been in storage since the war,” Ivanov replied. “The owner died a few weeks ago, and it was only just discovered when his heirs came to claim his estate.”

Eroica’s eyebrows went up. “I didn’t realize the Soviet government contacted family living outside the Communist block.”

Ivanov cleared his throat. “The heirs in question are from East Germany.”

“Ah!” Eroica nodded. That explained a great deal. There would be no problems contacting someone in another Communist country. Nor would they be very likely to argue should Moscow decide it wanted to keep whatever treasure this individual might possess.

The Earl noticed that his host had fallen into an awkward silence and wondered how best to begin the conversation again. He did not have to. At that moment, one of Ivanov’s assistants came to their compartment. After a brief conversation, he left.

“You’re surrounded by such handsome young men,” Eroica sighed. He leaned over to watch the receding figure move down the corridor. Ivanov shifted uncomfortably in his seat and the Earl gave him an innocent look. “Is something wrong?”

“My colleague is a man of the old school, Lord Gloria,” Ivanov began nervously. He met the Earl’s inquiring gaze and waved his hand to take in his colorful apparel. “Your…er, decadent appearance may be disconcerting for him.”

Eroica leaned forward, putting his chin in his hand and fluttering his eyelashes. “Only my appearance, Comrade?” he said breathily.

Again, Ivanov cleared his throat nervously. He pulled at his collar as he attempted to come up with the right words. Is it getting hot in here?

This reaction caused the Earl to laugh and he sat back in his seat. “Don’t look so worried. My man packed a very respectable business suit for me.” He indicated a garment bag hanging against the wall that had somehow escaped the other man’s notice. “I didn’t want to soil it on the train. It’s rather expensive, and Mr. James would never forgive me if I ruined it.”

“I see…”

“Don’t fret. I’ll change before we arrive.”

Relief flooded visibly over Ivanov’s face. “I appreciate that, Lord Gloria.”

“I want to make a good impression on your associate,” the Earl added archly, grinning at the disconcerted expression this produced on the other man’s face.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with my assistants.” So saying, Ivanov practically fled from the compartment.

Eroica giggled and glanced out the window. He pulled out the pocket dimension and smiled knowingly as he took a cigarette and lighter from it. He casually lit the cigarette and smiled again. How many treasures would this little wonder contain when he made the return journey to Leningrad?

* * *

The Kremlin
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 1987

Turlough sat quietly near the end of a long conference table while the Doctor happily chatted with several apparently high ranking Soviet officials. The young man had been introduced to all concerned and then hurriedly taken to a chair by the Doctor, who told him to stay put and not interrupt.

Someone came in with some very sweet tea and then, about an hour later, with some very strong Vodka. Fortunately, no one bothered to offer the boy any of the latter. He sat calmly sipping his tea while the Doctor and the others knocked back glass after glass of Vodka. Turlough could not help but wonder how they could possibly keep track of what they were talking about during all this…toasting.

After several hours, the Doctor got to his feet and thanked everyone at the table. Then it was bear hugs all around, slaps on the back, and kisses on the cheek.

Turlough got slowly to his feet and waited for all this nonsense to be over. Suddenly, the Doctor had him by the arm and was steering him out the door.

“Come on,” the Doctor said in a low voice. “That’s done it.”

“Done what?” his confused companion replied.

“Cemented my standing with the current regime of the Communist Party, as it were.”

Turlough blinked. “It did?”

“Yes. Apparently, my past exploits with UNIT did not go unnoticed by Moscow.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Considering who one of the individuals was that I was working with at the time, not good as far as the KGB was concerned.”

“But not now?”

“No. The Kremlin is giving us a cover story,” the Doctor informed. “So, tomorrow morning, all the papers necessary for us to begin a complete and scientific evaluation of the matter transmission experiments in the Lubyanka will be ready and waiting.” He pushed open a door and continued down a long corridor.

“Wow.”

“Yes. As I said. It helps to have friends in high places.”

Turlough nodded. Then it suddenly occurred to him that they were striding through the Kremlin unimpeded. It also occurred to him that the Doctor was still cold sober, which he remarked on.

“Ah. Well, my liver is currently working overtime to metabolize all that alcohol,” the Doctor said offhandedly. “Time Lord physiology does have its uses from time to time.”

I’ll bet. “There won’t be a repeat performance when we pick up your paperwork, I hope,” Turlough said dryly.

The Doctor gave him a disapproving look. “No.”

* * *

The Lubyanka, KGB Headquarters
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 1987

Several hours after lifting off from London’s Heathrow airport, the Major found himself in a car on the way to KGB headquarters. He reflected back on the numerous failed attempts by KGB agents to get him to Moscow. Now, here he was going willingly. Well, not exactly willingly, but he was under orders. Goddamn, bloody, fucking NATO.

The Major was actually surprised that none of the agents he had encountered over the years were present to gloat. Polar Bear was undoubtedly still in London. Mischa the Cub had greeted him in Berlin. That was only two out of how many others over the years? Perhaps the higher ups at the Kremlin were attempting to make a show of things. Which only caused him to be all the more suspicious. If the Commies let Iron Klaus leave the very heart of KGB headquarters unscathed, then the intelligence community might be fool enough to let its guard down.

Idiots, Klaus thought as he started up the stone steps. The bloody KGB never does anything without an ulterior motive.

As in London, the Major followed after the others. He was stunned when the journey led to the third floor office of KGB Chairman Viktor Chebrikov.

If the KGB is going to make a move, this would be the perfect time, he thought as he went through the official motions of turning Siberian Shadow over to his superiors. A conference call was made to the United States and it was only then that the Major learned that his opposite number in the KGB had been delivering their prisoner to CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia.

Chebrikov spoke with CIA Director William Webster for several minutes. As far as the Major could see, they were just exchanging platitudes. The KGB Chairman made a small speech about the new reforms, which brought to mind his less than banal statements that had been on the front of Pravda that very January. The man had actually admitted that employees of the KGB had committed illegalities.

The Chairman then stunned the Major again by personally thanking him for leading the team that returned Siberian Shadow to the Soviet Union. For the sake of diplomacy, Klaus grudgingly accepted the handshake, but was not about to give the man a bear hug.

Finally, the little gathering ended and the Major and his SIS counterparts were being taken to where the businessmen were gathered to discuss security and surveillance systems. Klaus lit a cigarette as the group made their way down the corridor. He looked completely relaxed, but his eyes were never still for an instant.

“I didn’t think we were going to get out of there alive,” Jones said nervously, throwing a quick glance back at the now closed door of the Chairman’s office.

“Neither did I,” Smith replied. He breathed a sigh of relief as they boarded the elevator.

Klaus moved to the back of the lift and watched in some annoyance as the SIS men relaxed visibly. “We’re not out of the Lubyanka yet,” he said aridly as the doors closed.

* * *