Debut for a Spy Read Online Free Page A

up with a name that might activate a synapse and make some sense of this. It failed.
    “I can't think of anyone you'd be interested in.”
    He looked at me searchingly.
    “Does the name 'Vladimir Nalishkin' mean anything to you?”
    The synapse fired.
    “Yes,” I answered, “I've met him. I was singing at the Latin Quarter a few weeks ago and he came to see me at the end of my show. In fact, I had a drink with him and his guests, although I don't remember their names. Nalishkin told me that he was the cultural attaché at the Soviet Embassy, and wondered if I would accept an invitation to sing at some embassy 'do' they're planning. Is this significant?”
    There was a long hesitation before Hammond continued.
    “Captain Baird, I'm going to tell you something which perhaps I should not. But I'm addressing you as a commissioned officer 'On Her Majesty's Service', as the phrase reads, not as a civilian. I trust you will respect what I am about to say as though you were still a regular officer. We were aware of your meeting with Nalishkin because we try to keep track of him twenty-four hours a day. Nalishkin, you see, is the cultural attaché in name only. In reality, he is the head of the KGB section at the Soviet Embassy in London, the rezident . He is a very deceptive man, as devious as he is dangerous.”
    I sat there in amazement as Hammond continued.
    “When your name came up I knew we had a chance to get closer to Nalishkin than ever before, if you were willing to co-operate. When we ran a check on you and I discovered your background, I was even more convinced.” He stared at me intently. “Are you willing to help us?”
    I hesitated, then spoke slowly.
    “What would I have to do?”
    “ Just keep your ears and eyes open. If anything occurs which seems even remotely of interest, let us know. We'll arrange a private contact method to keep in touch.”
    “ And that's all? No tricks, no spy assignments? You won't be asking me to steal documents from Nalishkin's desk or smuggle microfilm into Moscow?”
    I said this lightly, but I meant it. Hammond actually laughed, if you can call a couple of throaty grunts a laugh.
    “My dear boy, you've been reading too much spy fiction. We're not like the novels at all, you know.”
    I sat quietly for a moment.
    “How do you know I'll have any contact with him worth reporting?”
    “ We don't, of course. But Nalishkin is well-educated and a very sophisticated man. For all his KGB work, he keeps up an excellent front as the cultural attaché, actually arranging several tours involving the Bolshoi and the Moscow Philharmonic. We know he is a great Frank Sinatra fan, and with your similarity in style and material, it would be true to his character to see a lot of you – perhaps even suggest a trip to Russia. Only time will tell, of course, but if it happens I'd like to be a step ahead and not one behind. He's done it before, you see, but not with anyone we could have counted on to do us any good. With your background, you're a godsend.”
    “ Hardly, colonel. It's all too far behind me.”
    “ The grenade rather disproved that.” He paused. “Simply stated, Captain Baird, we need your help.”
    I sat still, contemplating in confusion all the information I had been told, and struggling with mixed emotions. On the one hand I felt the call to duty again – the desire to rush to the colours on seeing the poster of Lord Kitchener beckoning 'We Need You!' I disliked communist regimes, with their secret police and their suppression of human rights and dignity.
    On the other hand, I was trying to build a career far removed from this sort of thing. I had even left army music to get away from military regimentation. Did I want this complication in my life? And the greatest fear – would I be drawn deeper into something I'd regret?
    Sensing my doubts, Hammond tried to allay them.
    “I can understand that this incident has made you extremely wary of accepting my offer, Captain