Inside the Aquarium : the making of a top Soviet spy by Suvorov Viktor

Author:Suvorov, Viktor [Suvorov, Viktor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suvorov, Viktor, Soviet Union. Glavnoe razvedyvatelʹnoe upravlenie, Spies
ISBN: 042509474X
Publisher: New York : Macmillan
Published: 1986-03-20T19:00:00+00:00

look was like a whiplash. He made use of it suddenly and swiftly. I wasn't readyfor it. I withstood it, but reahsed that I would not be able to lie to him.

'That's what you were thinking?'

Tes, comrade general, that is exactly what I was thinking.'

'Get on with your work. Try and find an agent to recruit. Then we shall beproviding support for you. Then you will be working with your head alone.Someone else will be risking his skin for you.'

His cheeks twitched a little, but his look remained leaden.

'Agree the details with the First Deputy. Off you go.'

I clicked my heels, turned smartly about and marched out of the Navigator'sroom. There was nobody in the corridor and nobody in the big room. Nothingbut the gentle hiss of the air-conditioner, sending an icy stream of air into thesemi-darkness of the room. I turned up the blue-tinted light a Uttle and strodeacross the room to the safes at the far end of the room, my footsteps muffled bythe thick carpet. For a few seconds I stared dumbly at the bronze disc, thensighed and dialled the numbers of the combination. The heavy fire-proof doorswung open smoothly and silently, revealing twelve small but massive doors. Iunlocked my own door clearly marked with the number 41. Inside was mybriefcase. I closed the safe, put the briefcase on my desk and pulled carefully atthe two silky tapes, thus destroying the imprint of the two seals, first the onewith the coat of arms, then my own personal seal. From the briefcase I took asmooth sheet of thick white paper bearing a neat column of signatures. Withanother deep sigh I wrote on it: 'Briefcase No. 41 opened July 13, 1243 hourslocal time.' Then I leaned back a Uttle and signed my name.

After returning the piece of paper to the briefcase, I next took out a shinygreen folder bearing the number 173-V-41. The first sheet of paper in the filewas covered with writing, but the rest had nothing on them at all. I held one ofthem between two fingers and placed it in front of me. I put my personal stampon the top left-hand corner and then inserted the sheet in the typewriter. In thetop right-hand corner I quickly typed the words 'Top Secret' and then, a fewlines lower down and right in the centre of the page, the single word: 'Plan.'

Having done that I clutched my head in my hands and stared gloomily at thewall. Inwardly I was seething with rage. I hated the whole world, I hatedmyself, I hated the desk, the blue light, the brown carpets and the greenfolders.

Then, from out of the crowd of people and objects attracting my hatred,there emerged slowly one single face which I now hated even more than I hatedthe typewriter. It was the face of the Navigator, curse him.

It was easy to give orders. But this wasn't a matter of commanding adivision. Go there, do this. I had never been in West Germany. Fancy sendingme on such a job after only three weeks of practical work.

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