◆ SpookStack

“Rad given the tan-driver only the Stree. number without specifyi ic Russian Consulate to him. My was beginning to fail, and TI. almost ready to give up. ButIk ed a third taxi, got in, and boldly asked for the Russian Consulate. He drove perhaps 50 yards down the street, turned about, and drew up outside &@ building exactly opposite the one I had instigated. I went in. On & calling-card I wrote: ‘To bis Extellency the Russian Ambas- sador.’ And on the back: ‘If you have a minute to spare, I would like to see you.” A few minutes laicr a tall, blue-eyed Russian ushered me into a room where another man was seated behind a desk. He rose courteously and said that he was very pleased to see me. He said he knew all about me: 'We have heard that you want to go to Russia.’ ‘ T said yes. ‘When would you like + to go?" he then asked. I told him in three or four days as I had some shopping to do and one or two other things to attend to. He said: *We should like you to be ready the day after tomorrow.’ I was rather taken aback and asked whether such Speed was necessary. He said it was. I was told that I should be at ‘London Airport on 27 September. at exactly 11 o'clock. _There would i be somebody there to meet me who | would take care of everything. I . Should worry about nothing. Then he opened a drawer of his desk, took out an envelope and handed it fo me. “Go and buy yourself some very warm clothes,” he said. In the envelope I found £500 in notes. I went immediately to Harrods and enjoyed mysclf. I bought sweaters and tights, boots and a turban, fur- lined gloves and some goodies for Kim. But T made one mistake ; instead of the heavy fur-lined coat I should have bought, I chose a rather lightweight camel-hair. 1 often Tegretted it in Moscow. I had arranged to see Dr X in his consulting room in Knightsbridge later that moming. ‘You look so . well today, Mrs Philby,” he said in his usual unctuous manner, * Have you had some good-news?’ I said, “No, nothing in particular,’ and told him I would see him the follow- ‘ing week. I left at ten the following day anfi arrived at the airport at ‘twenty: minutes to eleven. — [sat inside the taxi in the parking lot as the minutes slowly ticked by. -At two minutes to eleven the driver “pulled up in front of the terminal, and I got out with my numerous bags. Getting increasingly jumpy, 1 - waited in the main’ hall about five — minutes. 1 was very Worried about being recognised by the Press. Then L noticed a tall, stocky, thick-necked man striding up and down in the middle of the lobby, glancing anxiously around. I felt Sure he was Russian. Finatly I got up my nerve, and went up to him. I tapped him on the shoulder and asked: “Are you looking for me?’ ‘Are tou Mrs Philby? Where's your baggage and passport?’ J handed both over. I asked if I could do some last-minute shoppigg at the duty-free store. I had in mind some Scotch and cigarettes. But he vetoed this politely, saying I might be spotted by the Press. ventually it was time to go. We just walked directly to the huge — ‘We have definitely known for the last seven years,’ said the British Intelligence chief, ‘that Kim has been working for the Russians : without pay.’ | SvVRSeA ar Ps ia ait ncn arnt corh-st = J Aeroflot jet. There was no security check or passport control. He placed me in an empty first-class compart- ment, shook hands, wished me good luck and said goodbye. I was under the impression that that was the end of him, but when the engines were tunning, my friend emerged from the pilots’ cabin. He obviously wanted to make sure I didn’t get cold feet. He left the plane and we took off. Four hours later — wearing a turban, dark glasses and my camel- hair coat from Harrods—I landed in Russia. I had not the faintest idea where I was in that vast country or what would happen to me. Kim seemed thinner, rather worn, and [ had almost failed to recognise him. had never seen him in a hat before. The dark-blue felt he was wearing belonged to Guy Burgess, who had suddsaly died the previous month. 363 Alm fad @ collection of Mis Ciolics « ¢ Winter overcoats were especially al and expensive to replace. He Ww. ¢ the hat out of sentiment. In the front of the car, next to the driver, sat a youngish-looking man, who was to be one of the few Russians I was to know well. He is probably the only person in the world who has a complete know- ledge of Kim's work (on the Russian side), 1 knew him merely as Sergei, but I soon learned that he was Kim's chief contact and collaborator in the complex machine of Russian Intel- ligence. Apparently he had spent many years handling the Moscow end of Kim's activities. Sergei often came to see us to help with all our problems, trying to assist us in adjusting to the un- familiar Russian world in which we found ourselves. He was very charming, fortyish, with kind, twinkling brown eyes and an excel- lent sense of humour. His English was fluent, with only a slight trace of accent. I grew to like him very much indeed. He would always treat me with a rather grave, old- fashioned courtesy. He sometimes brought me flowers, which cost the earth in winter. On that first evening we drove swiftly to Kim's flat. Sergei came in with us for a glass of champagne which Kim had ready on ice. But after a few moments he bade us discreetly farewell, leaving us alone. I was wildly happy. Kim lived under an assumed name in an enormous grey buil grey residential suburb of Moscow. Tt was some 15 minutes by metro from the centre of the town. T have promised never to reveal his address or the name he goes by. From the rear our huge, grim block reminded me of the Lubianka Prison. But the front view was relieved by a small, tree-lined square where. on warm days, old men played chess and babies sat in prams, watched by theic babushkas. But inside he had done a marvel- lous job and, by Russian standards, it was amazingly spacious and com- .fortable. There were four rooms; a living-room, a study for Kim. a dining-room and a large bedroom for Kim and me—but no double bed: the Russians don’t believe in them. Later { made inquiries but there were none for sale. { had no idea thea how difficult it was to furnish a flat in Moscow. When you move inio an apartment in Russia, you start from scratch, with nothing in the bathroom except atap. Furnishing means providing everything from wood on the ficer c