Folie a deux
London, 1963. The crowds had thinned out at the Temple station on the Tube hours ago. Now, the Underground was the scene of a clandestine meeting between two figures who seemed to be avoiding the light. James Cunningham, a seasoned MI6 agent, stood on the platform, his eyes scanning the crowd for his Soviet counterpart. The air was thick with tension and the weight of secrets yet to be revealed.
Cunningham had told the man to enter the station from the Temple Way entrance. Cunningham entered via the Embankment entrance, then took the two flights of stairs down to the westbound tracks.
As the train screeched to a halt, Cunningham spotted his contact, Dmitri Volkov, a man whose loyalty remained – maybe the best way to put it was – an open question. Volkov, a skilled Soviet operative, had reached out to MI6 several months ago, claiming to possess vital information that could shift the balance of the Cold War. After an extended back and forth, Cunningham, feigning skepticism yet secretly intrigued, had agreed to the rendezvous.
The two men boarded the train, finding a quiet corner away from the few oblivious commuters. As the train lurched forward, Volkov leaned in close, his voice barely audible over the rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks.
"I'm tired, tired of the deceit," Volkov said, starting the conversation. His eyes darted around the train nervously. "It's so obvious that my country is failing at even the simplest tasks in taking care of the people, yet everything is bolstered by lies. I wish to defect, to start anew in the West. But I need your help, Cunningham. The Second Directorate, they are watching my every move."
Cunningham knew Volkov was referring to the internal counter-intelligence arm of the KGB. The Second Directorate monitored every KGB agent stationed outside the USSR. A fleeting smirk crossed Cunningham's face – the irony of Volkov telling him of all people was not lost on him.
"Dmitri, can I call you that?" Cunningham asked, his tone betraying a hint of condescension.
A nod in return.
"You're too experienced to know that what you're asking for will only come at some cost to you. So, what do you offer in return, Volkov? You must understand my reservations."
Volkov reached into his coat, causing Cunningham to tense, his hand instinctively hovering near his concealed weapon. But instead of a gun, Volkov produced a small, black notebook. "This," he said, his voice trembling with anticipation, "contains the names of Soviet sleeper agents across Europe and the Americas. It’s encrypted – I am not even cleared to have the decryption codes, but I’m sure your people would be able to, as you say, crack it. In your hands, this information would cripple Moscow's intelligence network."
Cunningham's eyes widened as the gravity of Volkov's offer sunk in. Such a treasure trove of information could indeed change the course of the Cold War – and potentially change his career. His life even.
Volkov slipped the notebook back into his breast pocket. "I need assurances, Cunningham. A new identity to start with. I cannot risk my life for this."
The train slowed, approaching the South Kensington station. Volkov started to get up. Cunningham knew he had only a moment to make a decision that could alter the course of the future of his career and MI6. As the doors opened and passengers began to disembark the carriage, he leaned forward, his voice low and urgent.
"Meet me at this address," Cunningham said, slipping Volkov a book of paper matches with an address on the inside cover. "Tomorrow at 6 pm. Bring the notebook. I will ensure your safety. But Volkov, if this is a trap..."
Volkov nodded, "Yes, I know," his voice trailing off.
Watching Dmitry leave the carriage, blending into a small group of late commuters heading for the stairwell, Cunningham couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a complex and dangerous game. He would need to get in touch with his KGB handler tonight – Volkov's defection, and the information he carried, posed a significant threat to Soviet interests. Perhaps his handler would tell him that Volkov would need to be eliminated before he could reveal the identities of the sleeper agents, a necessary sacrifice to protect the KGB's network of operatives abroad.
In any case, Cunningham's next move would be critical. One misstep, and his carefully cultivated double life could come crashing down around him.