Dare Call It Treason

By Bob Hyslop

The 2nd Jonas Forbes Thriller
Jonas Forbes, Enquiry Agent has been hired by the UK Foreign Office to help protect the Soviet leaders, Khrushchev and Bulganin, arriving at Portsmouth on a state visit to Britain in April 1956. However, Khrushchev has just publicly denounced Stalin and on board the cruiser ‘Ordzhonikidze’ are opponents determined to assassinate him and blame it on the British. They organise the theft of a British mine through local contacts but quickly lose control as this leads to murder and draws in Detective Inspector John Wyatt of Scotland Yard. Wyatt and Forbes must learn to work together and also secure the cooperation of the GRU (Soviet Military Intelligence), entrusted with the safety of the Soviet leaders.
Almost immediately Jonas finds himself in trouble. His Whitehall contacts, except for Vanessa Clarke, come to dislike and distrust him – especially after he falls for Lt. Natasha Rykov of the GRU with tragic results. The police question both his methods and suitability for the task. Complications increase when the KGB become involved, determined to oust their GRU rivals as protectors of the Soviet leaders. The disappearance of Commander Crabbe near the Soviet vessel worsens relations between those aiming to foil the plotters and ensure the success of the visit.
Violent death intrudes on shore and on the ‘Ordzhonikidze’ and both Jonas and the plot leaders themselves become targets for a killer, determined to complete his assignment and collect his pay.
A fast-paced thriller firmly based on historical research.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bob Hyslop
• Release date: Oct 25, 2010
• ISBN: 9780955871856

Bob Hyslop

I am a retired teacher, living near Chichester, Sussex, UK. I am married with one daughter and two grandsons. Apart from writing my main hobbies are Family History, Music (all kinds) and playing the guitar. I have published four historical novels under different names which, you may find, still in print. I should point out that I wrote for my OWN enjoyment with the hope that others might also enjoy my books. What SERIOUSLY undermines my sales is my reluctance to be involved in social media. The details of my email account proves I am no recluse: I just focus on the negative sides of social media and so avoid them. However, you can contact me via my blog site re' my books and I'd welcome your questions and comments. I promise to check for them regularly.

Book preview

DARE CALL

IT

TREASON

Bob Hyslop

Treason doth never prosper: what’s the reason? For if it prosper, none dare call it treason.

(Sir John Harrington (1561-1612): ‘Epigrams’)

‘How History makes one shudder and laugh by turns.’ (Horace Walpole 1786)

‘The Jonas Forbes Saga’: Vol. 2

First published 2010 by Cuthan Books (http://www.cuthanbooks.co.uk/)

Copyright: Bob Hyslop 2010

The right of Bob Hyslop to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

ISBN 978-0-9558718-5-6

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For lovers of the unknown and unknowable in History who help keep fiction alive. This is a tale of fiction embellished by fact.

Acknowledgement to the Beatles

for the Chapter Titles

On the Front Cover, clockwise, are the badges of the GRU (Soviet Military Intelligence} the KGB (Committee for State Security) & a UK Policeman’s helmet, surrounding a photo of the Soviet cruiser ‘Ordzhonikidze’.

How they relate to each other forms the background to this episode in the career of Jonas Forbes.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

1. COME TOGETHER

2 WE CAN WORK IT OUT

3. MAXWELL’S SILVER HAMMER

4. PLEASE. PLEASE ME

5. HELTER-SKELTER

6. YOU CAN’T DO THAT

7. A HARD DAY’S NIGHT

8. HELLO GOODBYE

9. BACK IN THE USSR

AFTERWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PROLOGUE

Dima, the madman must be stopped

The dark eyes seemed to pierce into the soul of Lieutenant Dmitry Alexandrovich Komovsky. No, they couldn’t pierce into his soul because the ‘soul’ did not, could not exist – the Party said so and the Party was always right.

Dmitry tried to shut out the glare from Uncle Lyonya’s eyes but found the effort impossible. Whatever the Party might say made up a man; Leonid Ivanovich Petrovsky knew his nephew thoroughly and that made the younger man uneasy.

They were alone, fortunately, for what the older man was saying could lead to both being shot or transported to the Gulag. It was 26 February 1956, the final day of the XXth Party Congress and neither had yet fully absorbed what had happened yesterday. The world they’d believed in had been systematically destroyed by one they’d thought shared their beliefs. First Secretary of the Soviet Communist Party Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev had demolished the achievements of one who, for both, had been ‘Father of Their Country’. It couldn’t be true. They’d agreed on that immediately but now Leonid Petrovsky was going further. He was talking treason.

For thirty-five years I’ve served the Party. For thirty-five years I’ve seen its power expand. And the one person mainly responsible was Josef Vissarionovich-

Not Vladimir Ilyich? Vladimir had to ask, for if that wasn’t true why was Lenin, revered by hundreds of millions, buried in the Mausoleum in Red Square in Moscow, the capital of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics which he’d founded?

Lenin laid the foundations but, alas, he became a sick man, possibly prone to listen to traitors-

Ssshh! whispered the younger man for, although his uncle had merely hissed his criticism, everything had a nasty way of drifting back to the KGB – and that would mean disaster for both.

The older man appeared surprised at the warning and shrugged as he firmly closed his mouth. Comrade Josef Stalin had shaken off the control of those traitors who’d warped the last few years of the efforts of Vladimir Lenin. He’d revealed their undermining of the achievements of the State as it ripped aside the corruption of both the old Tsarist regime and the new breed trying to install their own brand of perversion. Leonid remembered his thirty-seventh birthday, 22 May, eighteen years ago when the pride of the Soviet Army, Mikhail Nikolayevich Tukhachevsky, had been arrested for plotting with the Fascist enemy. Two months later his uncle, Alexandr, had been arrested (and later, deservedly, shot) for also planning to desert to the enemy. He had himself actually been arrested, interrogated and released – all in two hours because it was clear how loyal he was to Comrade Stalin.

In fact, he’d already proved himself useful in eliminating the wreckers and corrupt politico’s who’d featured in the series of trials in which Andrey Vyshinsky had acted as Chief Prosecutor. What a pity that man had died a couple of years ago. He’d have known how to treat these jackals undermining the Soviets. Leonid remembered the speech where Vyshinsky had denounced his mad uncle, among others:

Down with these abject animals! Let's put an end once and for all to these miserable hybrids of foxes and pigs, these stinking corpses! Let's exterminate the mad dogs of capitalism, who want to tear to pieces the flower of our new Soviet nation! Let's push the bestial hatred they bear our leaders back down their own throats!

Then he’d been proud to hear such denunciation of traitors: now nobody would use such language.

After the triumphs of the Great Patriotic War he’d carried out the required purges in Latvia and Estonia to remove opposition to the Soviet system. Gut-churning coteries of Hitlerite madmen rejected the return to unity under Comrade Stalin. In all this he’d proved his loyalty to Comrade Stalin, earning both the Order of Lenin and the Order of the Oktober Revolution. In private he’d received special praise from Comrade Georgi Maksimilyanovich himself. Malenkov, at the time, held the position of Prime Minister and so Leonid Petrovsky had dreamed of securing a position within the government. Dreams, however, can be shattered easily and his were with the downfall of Georgi Malenkov last year. The man responsible had been Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev who’d tumbled into the position of First Secretary of the Soviet Communist Party and used that power to outmanoeuvre his rivals. It was then Petrovsky had decided to kill him.

Naturally, the problem was how to succeed both in murdering the traitor to the memory of Stalin and getting away with it. Leonid Petrovsky had no intention of sharing the fate of the likes of Leonid Nikolayev or that madwoman, Fanny Kaplan. Furthermore, he had a romantic view towards his motherland and wished to avoid staining Russian soil with the blood of a traitor to the Party.

Then he remembered his nephew, Dmitry Alexandrovich Komovsky, recently appointed Junior Lieutenant on the Sverdlov-class cruiser ‘Ordzhonikidze’. He’d just learned the First Secretary, together with that stooge, Premier Nikolai Alexandrovich Bulganin, on their visit to Britain on 18 April, would be based on the ‘Ordzhonikidze’. Leonid smiled. If he’d believed in a god, and he certainly did not, he’d have thanked him. Timing and location were perfect. Soviet leaders should have no such dealings with Capitalist decadence. Now, in his nephew, Leonid had the instrument for bringing about the Justice of Nemesis.

&&&

CHAPTER 1: ‘COME TOGETHER’

Ever since leaving school ten years before, Jonas Forbes had felt like a square peg in a round hole. Perhaps that wasn’t QUITE true. He’d enjoyed his five years in the army and they’d proved successful for himself, especially after units of the Green Jackets Brigade had been drafted into the Korean War. With peace he’d resigned his commission, certain there’d be few opportunities for the excitement of war over the next few years.

A couple of years working for the Colonial Office (at the prompting of his father) had proved only slightly better. He’d been sent out to Kenya, plunged straight into the Mau Mau Emergency and discovered the DIRECT approach in dealing with terrorism and mayhem wasn’t popular. However, he did find out he’d a keen nose for trouble and a zest for violent confrontation.

The result was setting himself up as a ‘Enquiry Agent’, underpinned by an inheritance on the deaths of his parents. He also found fairly-regular work as a body-guard, or ‘security-advisor’ as official correspondence preferred to describe his position, for certain foreign dignitaries whom Whitehall wanted to protect ‘at a distance’.

You understand, Mr. Forbes, it was explained by a rather smooth member of the upper echelons of the Foreign Office, there are certain individuals with whom we MUST deal but with whom, according to certain moralistic elements in Parliament and Fleet Street, we should NOT be dealing. So not only would it be awkward if anything nasty happened to such coves on our watch, it’d be damned embarrassing.

Jonas nodded earnestly as, like any young junior, he’d been trained to do in Korea. Mouth shut, eyes and ears open, that was the golden rule.

His position enabled Jonas to possess and carry a firearm and he’d selected a Browning P-35 manufactured in Belgium in 1942. The swastika on the butt indicated the first owner of the weapon. What had happened to it between 1945 and ten years later when Jonas had acquired it remained a mystery. It’d never let him down although, whether disappointingly or not, he’d had little cause to use it.

Now the nameless face (ignore the ‘J.J. Smith’ on the door which was probably a lie) was giving him his latest assignment. He was to be part of the team protecting the two most powerful men in the Soviet Union due to visit Britain in April.

The top-dog’s Bulganin. He’s a character who’s made his way up through the Party system so he’s up to every dirty trick we can think of – and probably a few more we can’t. At the moment he’s the Prime Minister so he’ll be the one talking face-to-face with Mr. Eden.

Silence. Jonas had never heard of him and was sure he’d not cooperate – most of his past clients never did. Sometimes they’d have some little business, such as with one of the local tarts, which they didn’t want him to know about; so they’d be off and he’d waste time trying to pick them up. Often, as in the case of a pair of arms-dealers, they’d see his presence as an unnecessary embarrassment / provocation. That meant staying in the background. Jonas had a variety of techniques which transformed him into wallpaper.

The other one’s possibly just along as a minder for Bulganin. He’s supposed to be some kind of ‘agricultural expert’ but that probably means he knows a lot of about how to force peasants to do what they’re told. He’s been First Secretary of the Party for three years now. There was a pause while the Nameless One consulted a slim file. His name’s Khrushchev.

Still silence.

You don’t say much, do you, Forbes? No response. I hope you can speak Russian – eh?

No, sir. Unfortunately, I don’t. My school tried to shove French down my throat with limited success and Latin just wasn’t on offer.

One of those Grammar School types – eh?

No sir! Perish the thought, sir. My school didn’t turn Grammar till after I’d left, sir.

Form of celebration?

I don’t think dear old McLeod would have bothered with all that rubbish, replied Jonas, remembering how his Head had managed to keep the school going through wartime shortages. He had to admit the old man had been fair – on the whole.

That was a joke, Forbes, snapped the bureaucrat, upset that a rare lapse into humour had been ignored.

Sorry, sir. The apology didn’t approach the eyes. I didn’t have much to do with languages until I joined the army.

Another foray into a folder – this time the one relating to Jonas Forbes. A frown appeared. But your overseas war service was limited to Korea! You didn’t tackle Chinese?

Good God, no, sir! The laughter in the eyes grew. It was hard enough trying to communicate with our allies, sir – and I do include the Yanks.

So what languages can you speak?

A smattering of this and that-

’Smattering’ isn’t good enough, Forbes! Something had definitely ruffled the Nameless feathers. You’ve got a month to get to know some Russian, especially the alphabet.

Why would that be necessary, sir? Jonas had been tempted to ask if it concerned spying but decided to limit the growing irritation inflicted on the bureaucrat. After all, he wanted his lunch so it’d be better to appear just stupid.

How else will you find your way around a Soviet warship?

So was it to be spying? Sorry, sir. I didn’t think this was to be an overseas assignment.

No, it’s not, Forbes. You’ll be confined to Portsmouth Harbour probably. The Nameless One was tempted to add, ‘As long as you can be kept away from me’ but instead said, The main bodyguard will be supplied by the Soviets, of course. In London, armed units from our police will be employed. You will act in close association with Scotland Yard but will be based on or near the warship. There was a pause. The Nameless One had clearly had enough of Jonas Forbes. Now go and report to Miss Clarke whom you’ll see in Room 621. Best of Luck.

Luck? Would that be necessary? Jonas hoped not but took the sentence as a dismissal.

I hope I won’t need any, sir. Thank you for your help, sir. He half-turned towards the door. Does Miss Clarke expect me, sir?

Yes, Forbes. She’ll look after you. The Nameless One looked pointedly at the clock. He had better things to do. Jonas slipped out of the office.

&&&

Miss Vanessa Clarke looked up from her typewriter and smiled. Grinning came more naturally to her because of her personality and smiles were normally reserved for the unknown. The stranger who’d suddenly slipped into her office fitted into the unknown. He was tall, dark-haired and handsome; as a woman she noticed that instinctively. By his dress and manner, he was clearly not a member of the Foreign Office personnel. By the expression on his face as he examined her he was clearly a man to be watched, as yet her brain hadn’t decided why.

Jonas grinned at the young typist who’d smiled on his entry; that made her not quite the usual member of the Civil Service who normally greeted a visitor as if they were another sheet of blank paper. She was pretty, perhaps beautiful when she smiled, with hazel eyes and a mass of auburn hair.

Yes? Her voice was soft, friendly and inquiring. For some strange reason Jonas almost felt on the defensive. An inner strength was assessing him without, apparently, being aware of it.

I’m Jonas Forbes and I’ve been asked to report to you by Mr. Smith-

Yes, SIR Jeremy did tell me someone, Was that a second curt examination of his appearance? would be coming over. The correction of Jeremy Smith’s title had been quite forceful. Obviously, Miss Clarke was someone who valued loyalty.

Jonas decided silence wouldn’t be the best way to proceed here. SIR Jeremy indicated you could give me more details as regards my duties.

The smile was transformed into a grin. Vanessa liked how her pointed reference to her superior’s title had been so brutally pushed aside. She’d little patience with such instances on status which the Civil Service insisted on. Was she in the wrong job? The question flashed across her mind and was dismissed in a second.

I’ve been asked to hand you a particular file, was her response and she immediately swung away from her Remington Portable, stood up and advanced on a filing cabinet stationed behind her. Jonas had ample time to appreciate the symmetry of her body, encased in the formal black skirt and white blouse endorsed by bureaucracy. Perhaps the white stilettos were a cry for non-conformity. Would her superiors have noted the defiance? As she turned Jonas hastily switched his eyes to the abandoned typewriter. She laughed inwardly, were all men so obvious?

This is the file on ‘Operation Jo’s Boys’... She paused as she saw the bewilderment in Jonas’s eyes and grinned. People in here have a strange sense of humour…. Still puzzlement. ... Bulganin and Khrushchev owed their rise to the late Stalin... Still no change. … JOSEPH Stalin? Some change but not complete understanding. Did nobody read the classics these days? It must be the spelling. Louisa M. Alcott wrote a novel called ‘Jo’s Boys’, a sequel to ‘Little Women’. This time there was a response, a clear dismissal of the sense of humour operating within the Foreign Office. Vanessa shared that opinion although she’d never openly admit it.

I’ve never read them, admitted Jonas. Except inside the classroom my reading was confined to G.A. Henty, Biggles and the ‘Hotspur’ comic. There was a grin which answered her own but she didn’t believe him. No one could be so ignorant about literature – or could they?

He saw the surprise in her and laughed. Just joking, he remarked as he gently removed the folder from her hands and flicked through it. Actually I loved ‘Treasurer Island’ and some of Dickens’s stuff.

Was ‘Dickens’s stuff’ again teasing her. Vanessa didn’t react but said, You’ll find a useful list of contacts on Page 3 and they’ll be able to give you all the information you need. I only type the stuff.

Was that a response to ‘Dickens’s stuff’? Jonas found himself taken by the woman standing so close to himself. His eyes dropped casually to take in the third finger of her left hand. No ring. She wasn’t already tied up with anybody.

Vanessa noticed the glance and laughed inwardly. So that’s how he felt. Hard luck, Mr. Forbes. I’m not on the stall!

May I borrow this? His voice interrupted a vision of Simon and, somewhat resentfully, she pulled herself back to reality.

I’m afraid not. There’s a small room at the end of this corridor... She helpfully pointed left. …. Where you can read through the file under supervision.

May I take notes?

She pointed to the yellow sticker on the spine. Not with that sticker. It’s ‘Highly Restricted’. She smiled. I expect it includes comments about our guests which might prove embarrassing to certain individuals.

Like how many people they’d had shot?

Was that a serious comment. There was no sparkle in the eyes. A good thing as comments like that weren’t encouraged anywhere in King Charles Street. Was it a criticism? Anyway, that was just the sort of flippant remark she might have made – and been brought to task by Sir Jeremy. Vanessa warmed to Jonas Forbes.

Diplomacy would never endorse such comments, she pointed out but realised he’d detected the laughter in her eyes.

So we’d better keep such treasonable comments to ourselves. he remarked as he turned towards the door. I’ll return this is in a couple hours – when I hope you’ll be open for questions... Bye.

Vanessa Clarke found herself saying goodbye to a back disappearing rapidly out of Room 621.

&&&

Jonas found Room 629 tomb-like on his entry, just what he wanted. From his earliest days he’d been unable to work effectively in noise. With such a limited time to get to grips with new material he’d need to concentrate, and that required silence.

The only other occupant of 629 was a small, bald-headed individual who appeared to be gazing into a mystic future imprinted on the opposite wall. As Jonas entered he was inspected by a pair of enormous, not unfriendly, blue eyes. On a girl they might have been attractive, almost inviting, but on a slightly-built, middle-aged man they had no such effect on Jonas. For his part the detective found himself inspected, assessed and discarded.

Sit at the table over there. A flap of lovely white hand indicated the location of ‘there’. I’m here to make sure everything works fine. No talking. Obviously a prepared speech. Perhaps he’d been one of the newly-trained GCE invigilators. After all, with whom could Jonas converse? Never mind. Mouth shut and obey instructions. Jonas was tempted to reply, ‘Yes, sir’ but changed his mind, nodded as if to acknowledge his mastery of the instructions, sat at the table and opened the file. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the Invigilator had resumed reading the invisible ‘MENE, MENE, TEKEL UPHARSIN’.

Somebody had intruded a new page at the front of the file and what it said immediately grabbed Jonas’s attention.

‘On 25 Feb 1956 NSK at 20th Party Congress denounced JVS. Prev. referred to the victims of late JVS. In speech accused JVS of repression and physical annihilation of not just opponents.

Was this ploy to out-manoeuvre rivals to succeed JVS? Uncertain.

Was this approach popular / unpopular among CCCP? Unsure. Certainly a surprise, especially for delegates from Eastern Europe.

Possible effect in UK? Initially negative. BCP determined to tow ‘party-line’ which still = backing JVS.

Could NSK be in danger? Possibly. BCP contains extremists who may strike? MIGHT be

individual among visitors’ hostile to new policy.

Role of NAB? Uncertain. = protégé of NSK but ...

Protection? Soviet + unattached UK. At