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Mission fic. There are times when a sound knowledge of art can be an advantage in international espionage. When in doubt: call in an expert.
The familiar bends of the River Thames came into view as the plane dipped down through the clouds. Klaus folded his newspaper and stuck it into the seat pocket.

He was not looking forward to this mission. He shouldn’t be doing this himself, he thought - wouldn’t be, if he’d had the choice - but the Chief had over-ridden his objections and insisted he take on this joint operation with the English secret service personally.

The briefing had been vague; something about small-scale political agitators being recruited into larger, more dangerous networks. He’d told the Chief it sounded straightforward, something one of the junior officers could do, but the Chief started blustering about credibility, and sending a senior officer to underline the importance NATO placed on the operation. It was bullshit, of course. Klaus suspected the Chief was just trying to curry favour with his opposite number in the SIS, for some spurious reason of his own.

An announcement came over the plane’s audio system, advising passengers to fasten their seatbelts and put their seats in the upright position. Weak English sunlight glimmered on the tops of London’s buildings. Klaus didn’t expect that he’d be in London for too long. The operation, whatever it entailed, should be wrapped up in a week. Maybe less.

.
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Klaus was met at the airport by a driver sent from SIS headquarters, and a junior agent was waiting for him in the foyer when he arrived.

–Major von dem Eberbach? Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m Toby Neville. We’ll be working together on this operation.”

Neville’s handshake was firm, and he looked Klaus in the eye when he spoke. Confident, without being too full of himself, Klaus thought. He didn’t look very old, but - well, perhaps he’d turn out to be competent.

Neville led the way to an office on the first floor. Just as he was about to knock on the door, a man’s strident tones could be heard from within, saying, –-and you can tell him from me, I don’t appreciate having a damned foreigner foisted on me to tell me how to run the operation!”

Neville, blushing to the roots of his hair, glanced anxiously at Klaus, whose face registered no expression at all. Neville knocked, and opened the door, revealing the office’s occupant in the act of slamming down his phone.

Introductions were made. Rhys Munro, the officer leading the operation, shook Klaus’s hand, and invited him to sit down. No reference was made to the phone call. Klaus didn’t care; he’d behave exactly the same way himself, he thought. He wouldn’t give a shit if someone overheard his opinion of them. So what if the fucking Limey in charge didn’t want him on the case? He didn’t particularly want to be there himself.

Rhys Munro wore a tweed jacket and an Old Harrovian tie, and his face seemed to be set in a permanent sneer. His office was tidy, devoid of personal touches. He didn’t acknowledge Neville, who sat down in the chair farthest from Munro and faded into near-invisibility. Munro didn’t waste time on social niceties, but got straight down to business.

–Well, Major, we’ve already made a start on this matter. The situation’s been escalating for some time - been brewing for years, in fact, although matters have only become serious in the last twelve months or so. A long-time political agitator here in London has begun shifting large sums of money around. Indications are that he’s become involved in something at a much higher level. We pulled him in the day before yesterday. His name’s Parker. He’s unemployed, to all intents and purposes, although he claims to be a painter. An artist. He’s a communist agitator, and he’s been a member of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament since the year it was founded.”

Klaus looked at the black and white photos Munro handed him, showing Parker full-face and in profile. The man looked about seventy, but if he’d had a rough life he might have been a few years younger.

–He’s been under low-level surveillance for some time now,” Munro continued. –Over the last five or six years, he’s been raising money for the CND by dealing in dodgy goods.”

–CND approves?” Klaus asked, incredulous.

–No, not at all. They didn’t know. Parker gave them the money and its source was never discussed. We’re not talking about overly large sums, here, Major; maybe fifty or a hundred pounds at a time.”

Klaus frowned. –So what’s made you think this might have become an international matter? Why involve NATO?”

–Because about twelve months ago, he started to deal in bigger items. Much bigger. The change has been consistent. Something’s happened; someone else has got involved. Have a look at this.” Munro slid a document across the table to Klaus. –This is a list of items we’re aware have passed through his hands since the change. As you see, Major, he’s been handling some seriously valuable goods.”

Klaus ran his eye down the list. Antique jewellery, works of art, rare cultural artefacts. The estimated values listed alongside the items were lofty sums indeed; some were in the tens, and in a few cases, hundreds of thousands.

–Where was he getting this stuff from?”

–That’s the question, Major. Who’s supplying him, and why? Neville’s been investigating where the money goes.” Munro nodded at his junior officer, who sat up in his chair, shaking off his temporary invisibility. –Tell Major von dem Eberbach what you turned up last week.”

The younger officer cleared his throat. –When Parker sells the items, it’s always for cash. He takes that to the bank straight away. But then, the next day, the money’s automatically transferred out to another account. In Zurich.”

–Zurich? What would a small-time political agitator in London want with a Swiss bank account? I take it the account’s not his?”

–You can go through the details of all that with Neville later on,” Munro said, waving a dismissive hand. –Now, when we cleared out the flat, we found some jewellery - classy stuff, too - and there was an oil painting. I can see you’re going to be just the chap we need for this next stage of the operation, Major. Your Chief in Bonn said you’ve had considerable experience dealing with works of art; he said art is a special interest of yours.”

Oh, did he? The bastard. Mentally, Klaus added yet another score to be settled with the Chief to his ever-growing list.

Munro shuffled through the pile of documents in front of him and lifted out a colour photograph. –This is the painting. Lucifer Expelled from Heaven, by Giovanni Lanfranco.”

He handed the photograph to Klaus, who scanned it with a dispassionate eye.

An agglomeration of wings, weapons, and bodies in varying degrees of nudity. Overdramatic facial expressions. Exaggerated muscles. Sombre clouds. The usual histrionic bullshit.

–You’d be familiar with the Italian Baroque movement, Major?”

–Valuable, then?” Klaus said smoothly, sidestepping Munro’s attempt to make him look foolish.

–Well, Major, that’s for wiser heads than mine to ascertain. It’s been sent off to an art gallery where I have contacts - Tallowford Hall, in Twickenham. The Chairman of the Board was at school with me.” A supercilious smile bloomed on Munro’s face, and faded away as quickly as it had come. –He’s arranged for the Head Curator to authenticate the painting for us.”

Klaus handed the photograph back. –So, this painting was found at the flat when you brought Parker in. Have you got the place under surveillance?”

–Surveillance? Of course not. Surveillance costs money. It’d be a waste of time, anyway; nobody’s going to go back there.”

Klaus stared at Munro, astounded. –How do you know that? You should be covering the possibility, at least!”

–Look, we’ve cleared out the valuables and any papers we found. We’ve got everything the place is able to give us; no need to waste time paying for surveillance.”

Klaus clenched his jaw. –It was a mistake to clear the flat out; it should’ve been left intact and kept under observation.”

–Not your decision, Major,” Munro said tightly. –What’s been removed can be examined properly, where we have the resources to do it. We’ve got a couple of junior officers going through those here at Headquarters. Watching the flat would be a waste of time and money. Nobody’s going to go there.”

–If anyone does, and they find the place has been stripped out and Parker’s gone, the whole operation’ll turn to shit. They’ll disappear, and go to ground. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

Munro’s face flushed with annoyance. –You might run this differently if you were in charge, Major, but you’re not. SIS is running this operation, and we’ll run it our way. Verstehen, Major?”

Klaus and Munro glared at each other.

–Er, should I cue up the videotape?” Toby Neville broke into the tense impasse.

–Yes. Thanks, Neville.” Munro shuffled his papers together and offered Klaus a patently false smile.

Klaus returned the smile, cold-eyed.

The interview tape started to roll, showing Munro seated at a small bare table, opposite the prisoner.

–Your name is Edward John Parker, and you live at number 123 Bay Horse Lane, Stepney?”

–Correct.” The interviewee’s answer came in a clipped, resentful tone.

–You’ve been brought here to answer questions about your involvement in the receiving and selling of stolen goods, and your connection to certain activities detrimental to national and international security. Do you understand?”

Parker stared belligerently at Munro for long enough to make it plain he was feeling uncooperative, then said, –Yes,” in the same tone as before.

The interview lasted nearly an hour. Parker freely admitted that he had been raising money for the CND for years by selling items, but he refuted any suggestion that he was selling stolen goods, saying that the items had been donated. When Munro challenged him about the change in value of the goods he was dealing with, Parker simply replied that the donors had become more generous.

–Perhaps you’re giving the proceeds to a different organisation, now that you’re raising larger amounts of money?”

Parker bristled, indignant. –What do you mean?”

–I mean that having found out selling stolen goods was a good way to raise money-"

–They’re donated goods.”

"-you’ve seen an opportunity to provide bigger funds for a bigger cause. Who are you giving the money to?”

At this, Parker became quite animated, gripping the edge of the table and leaning toward Munro. –Bigger cause? There is no bigger cause than world peace! I’ve been a supporter of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament from the start, and I’ll go to my grave a CND supporter. Every penny I’ve raised has been for the CND. For peace.” Parker’s eyes bulged and spittle flew from his lips. –That’s something you and your fellow spooks should be working for, instead of trying to stamp on people who are politically aware, and turn them into sheep.”

As the interview proceeded, two things struck Klaus. The first was that the old man was almost evangelical in his support of the CND, and mightily offended that anyone should suggest he would betray that organisation in any way. The second was that he skilfully deflected each and every one of Munro’s attempts to find out who else might be involved. The old curmudgeon gave very little away.

The screen went black, and Neville switched off the tape.

–You didn’t get much information from the prisoner, then,” Klaus remarked dryly.

–He wasn’t exactly cooperative.” Munro’s habitual sneer deepened. –But now that you’re here, Major, I’m sure we’ll make progress.” He flicked through the papers in front of him and squared them up into a neat pile. –Y’know, Major, I’m surprised that NATO sent the head of the intelligence unit over; one of your juniors would have done. Still, a week or two attached to a cushy operation with an allied agency should be as good as taking leave, shouldn’t it, Major? You’ll go back to Bonn refreshed.”

Klaus’s face didn’t betray the fury boiling through his veins. –If the operation’s so insignificant, I’m surprised that your superiors needed to call us in to assist. But as I understand it, Munro, your background’s in domestic security; perhaps you’ve overlooked some of the potential international implications. That’s my area of expertise.” He smiled, his eyes blank and cold. And fuck you, you condescending Limey bastard.

Munro’s face flushed with annoyance. He gave Klaus another false smile, holding his temper in check, as he pushed the pile of papers across the table to Klaus. –There you are, Major; all yours. Neville will be working with you; he’s under your direction for the duration. We’ve assigned you a desk on the second floor. Neville will show you the way.”

The three of them stood up, preparing to go.

At the door, Munro paused and said, –Oh, and by the way, Major - an old friend of yours asked to be remembered to you. Charles Laurence. I believe you’ve worked together in the past.”

Stony-faced, Klaus said, –We know each other.”

–Laurence speaks highly of you; he regrets very much that he won’t be able to catch up with you while you’re here.”

–H’mph.”

Klaus couldn’t tell what Munro’s opinion of Laurence was, but he thought he caught a glimmer of amusement in Neville’s eyes.

–Well, we’re all busy men, and Laurence is on assignment at the moment. Good luck with the operation, Major.” Munro left, and the door swung closed behind him.

Toby Neville gathered together the videotape of the interview and his own pile of documents, and led the way out to the lift.

–Your desk’s on the same level as mine, Major. Let me know if I can help with anything,” Neville said as the lift doors closed and they began to travel up to the next floor.

–Thank you.” Klaus looked at Neville, assessing. –Do you know Laurence?”

Neville nodded, poker-faced. Then, he grinned. –Yeah, I know Laurence. Man’s a wanker.”

Toby Neville immediately went up in Klaus’s estimation.

.
.

Neville led Klaus to the small office that had been set aside for his use.

Klaus closed the door and sat down behind his desk, dropping the file Munro had given him into the in-tray. –All right, now that we’re here with no distractions, I want you to tell me what’s been done so far.”

Neville sat down, placing his pile of papers on the edge of the desk. –Well, Major, you’ve seen the tape of the interrogation. By his own admission, Parker’s been selling stuff for years and giving the money to the CND. We went through his records and as Munro said, it looks like it was all pretty small-scale until about a year ago, when suddenly he started handling stuff worth thousands of pounds.”

–Stolen.”

–Undoubtedly - but he won’t say who his suppliers are. You heard what he said in the interview. He claims the goods were donations. He’s been adamant about that ever since we pulled him in. My guess is that he doesn’t really know where the stuff comes from - doesn’t want to know, most likely - but he knows it’s stolen, all right.”

–Afraid of reprisals if he says who the suppliers are?”

Neville shrugged. –Probably. After all, the stuff is valuable, so the people who pinch it have a lot at stake.” His forehead screwed up in puzzled lines. –The way Parker sticks to his story, though, I’m inclined to believe he really does think the money’s going to the CND.”

–And you’re sure it’s not?”

–Not a chance. I found someone in the CND willing to talk, and it looks like Parker’s donations, or whatever he liked to call them, stopped about a year ago. Presumably, about the time that he started to deal in the higher value items. So it’s possible that he started working with someone else, and they’re siphoning the money off, but he doesn’t know.”

Neville lifted two copies of a document from his own file and handed one to Klaus, who glanced through the first page.

–So where is it going? Talk me through this.”

Neville turned to his own copy. –The information comes from the bank where Parker deposits the money from the sales. That’s the only thing the account’s used for. When he received money for the goods, he’d deposit the cash in the account, and then the following day the full amount would be transferred automatically to another account in Zurich.”

–And whose account is that? Not his, surely.”

–No, sir.”

–Then who?”

Neville shook his head, apologetic. –I’m afraid I don’t know whose account it is yet. You know these Swiss banks, Major - tight lipped about who they deal with, insist on international warrants before they’ll discuss any of their customers-”

–-and Munro hasn’t authorised anything that will get them talking. Am I right?”

–Yes, sir; I’m afraid so.”

–The jewellery and the painting you recovered from the flat. Tell me more about that.”

–The painting’s at Tallowford Hall, as Munro said: getting assessed. The jewellery’s still in our safe.”

Still in the safe. Munro didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get all the evidence in. –And when will we hear from the art gallery?”

–Er- I couldn’t say, sir. They haven’t said.”

–For fuck’s sake! All right, you can let Munro know I’m going to Tallowford Hall tomorrow morning to see if they’ve made any progress, and get things moving if they haven’t. I want you to get on to the technical people here and see what they’re able to do about tracing money transfers. Keep up the pressure on the bank, but there’s no need to wait for the Swiss to invite us in; let’s see if we can get in through the back door.”

–Yes, sir. Will that be all, sir?”

Klaus pinned Neville with a hard look. –Find out if there’s any fucking Nescafé in this building, and if there’s not, go and get me some.”
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