Opening Moves

Here it landed on a desk in the American business section, marked for the personal attention of one Teoman Schiller, son of a First World War German officer who happened to be good communist, as was his son. Schiller then passed it, by dead drop or brush pass, to Vice-Consul Konstantin Volkov of the Soviet Embassy who decoded both the Turkish and NKGB codes before encoding again, this time in NKVD code. He was Deputy Head of the NKVD in Turkey and knew exactly what it was that he was handling. He tried to break Victoria’s special cipher, for professional satisfaction as well as for his personal insurance policy, but he had been able to understand very little of its content, despite his best efforts. He sent the NKVD coded version on its way across the Black Sea, from where it speeded to Moscow.

There it was decoded by a senior cryptographer using the NKVD code and Victoria’s special cipher and the translated version was then placed in the hands of the head of Soviet Intelligence services, namely Lavrentiy Pavlovich Beria.

It was by this method that Emilia Beatriz Perlo, known as Alkonost, had dispatched the report that arrived in Beria’s hands on the 12th June, the first that made the USSR aware of the advanced nature of US atomic weapon construction.

The arrival of the petite Minox camera had been both a bonus and a challenge.

All mail for the personnel at Los Alamos was addressed to PO Box 1663, Santa Fe NM, which meant that at least once a month she took an official excursion with the mail run to the market in the Plaza around the Palace of the Governors. This had been communicated to her cousin via letter as a possible exchange point, even though she and her fellows were always accompanied by security staff. As secretly directed in her cousin’s latest letter about Washington fashion, she made her way to an eye-catching stall buying and selling clothing and fabrics, investing $16 in a flowing ivy green dress with an extravagant and gaudy decoration on the shoulder. Her minder thought to himself how gorgeous the Spanish beauty would look in it, especially with that low cut front. He would lose the decoration himself as it just did not look right but Emma waxed lyrical about how she loved it, so who was he to comment.

On her return to Los Alamos, she carefully examined the dress and quickly discovered the Minox miniature camera and film within the decoration. The bonus of it was that she could be swifter in her habits, photographing rather than sketching or writing, reducing the risk of discovery. The challenge was to find a place to secrete it but she had previously discovered a small void behind a loose tile in the pedestal of her shower, which she hoped, would be perfect, and it was. A swift ‘grouting’ with toothpaste and the tile looked no different to those around it. Emilia immediately determined that it would never venture into the complex with her, but would be solely used for sessions such as this evening, in the comfort of her own bedroom.

The sex had been average at best but, as was her habit, she moaned and screamed her way through the brief session before collapsing on top of her spent lover as if he was her best ever.

It was not the first time she had slept with this one and he certainly was a looker, and had the equipment, but no expertise in using it. Well, there are other fish in the sea, thought Emilia, but not any with the knowledge that this one possessed and not that were sufficiently senior within the project and crossed all the boundaries not open to her. He also carried a secretary’s notebook in his back trouser pocket wherever he went, contrary to regulations, in which he jotted notes when a thought occurred, or swiftly recorded a fellow scientist’s idea to think through more carefully later.

Emilia had slept with a number of members of the Manhattan Project; actually quite a number. Always those she felt she could extract information from or those who, like Irving Zbrynevski, carried a notebook or diary in which they were often indiscreet about their work. Sex was a bonus if it was good.

The last time Irving had been permitted to sleep with Emilia, she had discovered drawings of geometric shaped explosive charges with extremely precise measurements annotated alongside so she was keen to see what new entries there were tonight.

His orgasm would probably have knocked him out for hours anyway but to be on the safe side Emilia had plied him with a bottle of Bourbon too. The empty lay on the carpeted floor, testament to his capacity. He slept on his back, arms and legs splayed like the Vitruvian Man. A gentle, almost feminine snoring marked him as out for the count.

A quick check of the clock reminded her that it was nearly two in the morning and if she wanted sleep, she best get moving quickly.

The camera retrieved and made ready, she extracted the notebook from Irving’s trousers and quietly pulled the door of the toilet shut behind her.