The Circus Of Spies

By Lee Kendrick 

After hopping on the 38 bus I walk up the stairs to the upper deck and find an empty seat, two seats behind my target. I've been tailing this woman for about three weeks now. My name is Nathan Peterson. As a British MI5 agent for about five years, I've had various surveillance jobs in my time, and by far this particular assignment is the most interesting one I've had.

The woman in front of me in her blue raincoat and a red scarf around her neck is Margaret Jones. Twenty-two years old, born on 5th April 1932 in Swansea, Wales. Her parents moved to London later and evacuated her to Devon in 1940, just before the Blitz began in London. She moved back to London a few years ago.

 Right not far now, the bus will soon be at Piccadilly Circus. It always reminds me of the time my cousin, Richard, drove my sister Debra and me to London Airport to watch the planes take off and land. Richard asked us if we'd like to see the Circus on the way. Being about eight and nine years old and both naive– we thought we were going to see a real circus with big tent clowns and elephants. Still, we had a little adventure watching the planes taking off and landing.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, back to Miss Jones, apparently she is a bit of a mystery. You see, the real Margaret Jones wasn't evacuated at all … She was killed with her parents when their house was bombed on October 14th,1940! This lady has taken Margaret Jones’ identity and the big shocker… her real name is… Katerina Smirnova, a Russian spy!

Ah, here's our stop coming up as we come into Piccadilly Circus. The noise becomes deafening with hundreds of vehicles turning around the roundabout beeping their horn impatiently because they want to get home. They encircle the small island where Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain and the statue of Anteros are (usually mistaken for Eros).

Finally, Katerina gets off at her stop with me in hot pursuit. I follow her some twenty yards behind as we pass the various billboards of adverts such as the …red Coca-Cola sign and the Guiness big clock.  

Katerina now crosses the busy Circus road walking speedily towards Soho. I continue behind her as she makes her way to her usual haunt the Fox Nightclub. As she turns into the street I can hear jazz music in the background emanating from the Fox. Her boyfriend is waiting for her outside, she pecks him on the cheek and they both go into the Nightclub. 

Frustratingly I am unable to enter the club because you have to be a member. So I wait impatiently outside by a streetlight for them to come out. Normally after about an hour! 

It soon starts to rain and I put my Mackintosh collar up. Good on time, Michael my colleague parks up in his black Land Rover ready to pick me up so we can follow Katerina and her boyfriend. 

Soon at 9 o'clock, they both come out of the Nightclub. I jump in Michael's car and we follow them as they get a black cab. 

We've been doing this for weeks, tailing them to Islington to their local pub, The Standard.

Finally, they arrive at the pub and go inside. Both Michael and I walk into a blue-smoky, noisy pub. We get a beer and sit opposite the couple at their table smoking and drinking. Katerina giggles as she turns to her boyfriend. Across the table is a surprising figure. Someone I did not expect… It was Novikov Mikhailov, one of the KGB's top spies.

By 10 o'clock it was packed with people in the pub. Suddenly, Katerina got up looking a little tipsy. It's at this point she pretends to drop her packet of cigarettes. Then in the confusion, she secretes a canister of film into the other spy's coat pocket. This time it must be extremely valuable, for Novikov to be present!

Novikov then got up and said he had to go now. Shortly after, Katerina and her boyfriend left the pub too. Michael and I soon followed, observing the couple get into a black cab to go home. After following them home Michael and I called it a day. 

MI5 have been onto Katerina and her ring for some time. She is invaluable to the Soviets because she has been collecting dozens of British secrets by blackmailing politicians, civil servants and top military servicemen. 

 My Controller said to me recently:” Very soon MI5 will confront Katerina to turn her in!” In other words, work for us as a double agent!

We found this out when two MI5 agents checked her flat in Islington. There was a two-way mirror in her bedroom and they discovered an 8mm film canister. 

They raced it to the lab boys and made a quick copy of the film. And the two agents hurried back and placed it in the exact place they found it. So no one would be the wiser! Later the darkroom boys showed the film to Control my boss. It showed a general with Katerina in a compromising position on her bed.

The next day I continued following Katerina, to her usual haunts. Nothing to report. On the way back home in the evening, when I got off the bus a strange big, heavy man in a black overcoat came down the stairs. He stared at me and gave me the most evil grin. Afterwards, the man went over to a parked black, Ford Zephyr and spoke to the driver. Turned and looked back at me. Then they drove off. With all My years of surveillance, I know if someone is following me. And I'm sure this man was tailing me!

As I lay in bed I kept thinking about this odd man. How can the Russians be onto me? I haven't made anyone suspicious!

The next morning I got a phone call from Control. He told me he and Michael had visited Katerina earlier this morning after her boyfriend went out. She now works for MI5!

Today I'm going to follow her as usual. Now let's see: I've got my wallet, change, cigarettes, lighter and umbrella instead of wearing my hat today. For varying my disguise.Whoops! Nearly forgot, hopefully I won't need this!

“Going to work again Mr Peterson?” Asked my landlady Mary. Just as I opened the street door.

“ Yes, Mary, I'm going to have some fun at work today!” I said with a grin.

She looked at me for a second and giggled: ”Oh Mr Peterson, you're so funny! And shut the door.

I like Mary because she is so genuine and has a sense of humour. Unlike the nosey, biddy-body landladies I've had in the past.

Having got a bus to Victoria, I jumped on a 38 bus just after Katerina climbed upstairs. She sat at the front and I was two seats behind her.

 The journey went quite quickly as we soon came upon Piccadilly Circus. As usual, it became noisy with cars beeping everywhere as the bus turned on the Circus roundabout. We soon arrived at the bus stop. Just then people got out of their seats to go downstairs. Then Katerina was about to pass me but a strange thing happened. She glared at me with her blue eyes looking terrified! Dropping a scrunch-up piece of paper into my lap!

Katerina stepped off the bus and I followed her. She then crossed the busy Circus road and I continued walking some 50 yards behind her. We Passed by the numerous flashing neon adverts of the giant, red Coca-Cola billboard, Bovril, Sweppes, Max Factor and many other flashing signs. Finally, Katerina changed her usual route and walked instead, down the Soho red-light district.  

Walking through Soho I walked by numerous buildings with red lights on and some flashing to let punters know the girls were ready for business. Unbelievably, Soho and Piccadilly Circus have had a sex trade since 1778! Just a short distance away some scantily-dressed women are trying to entice randy men into their dens!

I make my excuses to turn down the girls trying to entice me into their webs. But this fly has more urgent things to attend to than lust. I continue following Katerina as she gets closer to the Fox Nightclub.

Just some fifty yards away I can hear the Nightclub's jazz music. I spot Katerina's boyfriend outside the club waving to Katerina. She waves back. They embrace and go inside the Nightclub. I'm standing by a wall lighting a cigarette as I wait as usual for the couple to come out. 

Just then I felt a raindrop on the back of my neck, and I looked up and saw raindrops coming down, lit up by the streetlight a few yards away. Pulling up my collar I realise I must've left my umbrella on the bus. Then I remembered the paper Katerina gave me. Pulling out the paper from my Mackintosh pocket and reading it it said:

 “They Know! Help!”

“Hello MI5 man!” said a gruff voice

I turned around and standing next to the streetlight was the stranger I had seen coming off the bus yesterday. His massive build had cast a giant, black shadow against the nearby brick wall.

My heart raced as he walked slowly towards me. 

“MI5 man don't worry I will not hurt you, I will be quick!’ The stranger said, speaking softly. Walking ever closer. 

Damn it! And they told me I shouldn't have a gun because it could compromise my cover! What about compromising me without a gun?

 By now it was p#####g!down. But getting soaked was the least of my worries.

“Oh f##k it!” I felt the b#####d's heavy hands now around my throat, as sweat poured from his brow. Just as life was ebbing away from me suddenly, I heard two thud-like sounds and smelt a waft of acetone and cordite. I saw the big man groan and grimace as he crashed to the ground dead in a puddle! Glancing down I saw a smoking, burnt hole in my coat pocket!

I had never killed anyone before but I'm relieved I did now. Luckily I sensed danger and borrowed the 9mm Browning from my Special Branch friend, Bill Casey!

My mind was in a twirl. I had to act fast before anyone came. I struggled to pull the body into a dark alleyway. He must've weighed a ton! 

Shortly after, Michael arrived and I told him to find a phone box and phone HQ to tell them about the body and that I think Katerina is in danger. He rushed back into his car and drove off to find a phonebox.

Meanwhile, I continued waiting for Katerina and her boyfriend to leave the Nightclub. I waited till 10 o'clock, then midnight. I guess somehow they left without me knowing. Maybe during the struggle with the Russian or during moving the body! Anyway, the club is closed now. 

I decided to get a cab home.

The next morning, Control phoned to tell me the cleaners had dealt with the body and not to worry about Katerina; she probably went back home with her boyfriend, during my struggle with the Russian. I was to keep an eye on her as usual today.

Later that day, I followed Katerina on the bus as usual. She was wearing the same, blue raincoat and her red scarf around her neck, sitting two seats in front of me. But there was something different about her. I just couldn't put my finger on it. A man in front of me opened his newspaper. He ignored the front page and started reading the sports section. Then he turned back to the front page just as we were going to turn into Piccadilly Circus. I then observed someone pull the cord to stop the bus. Passengers soon got up from their seats to get off at the next stop. It was then that my heart sank as I saw the man looking on the front page of his paper… There was a photograph of a woman… the spitting image of Katrina. The woman had been strangled! But it can't be Katerina, I thought because she is two seats in front of me on the bus!

Due to my delayed shock and a crowd of people walking past me, I missed Katerina passing by me and just spotted her going down the stairs. 

Just as I was about to go downstairs I heard a voice say: “And where do you think you're going, sir?” Said the bus conductor with a grin. He had just started giving tickets to people upstairs. He smirked at me as if I was one of those fare dodgers. Then wound up his ticket machine and gave me a ticket after I paid him.

After jumping off the bus I felt a steering pain run through my left ankle. I bent down and rubbed it and slowly walked to the edge of the curb to cross the road. Katerina had already crossed and I could see she was making her way to Soho. 

After crossing the Circus road, as usual, I went by the many flashing lights of the neon billboards of advertisements. 

Struggling with my painful ankle I carried on following Katerina down Soho. Again I could hear the jazz music emanating from the Fox Nightclub. Then Katerina suddenly stopped and waved to her boyfriend John as he came out of the club. They Met up, cuddled and went inside the building. I still could not discern if it was Katerina or not, the streetlights just weren't bright enough to see!

Michael was going to meet me again and we'd follow the couple to Islington.

An hour had passed when Michael drove up. I got in his Zephyr and … I noticed something wedged at the bottom of Michael's front seat… A red scarf!

“Nathan, Did you see Katerina?”

“Yes, I think so,” I replied.

 “What you're not sure, Nathan?

“No, I'm more certain now, than five minutes ago!”

“What do you mean?” 

 “ It was you, you killed Katerina didn't you, you b#####d! 

  “ You made one mistake, Michael, you forgot to get rid of her red scarf!”

“Look, she was a traitor to the Soviet Union, and I hate traitors! At that moment, Michael reached for his gun. A second later…Pop!Pop

Nathan fired two shots into Michael and he jolted back, against the dashboard.

“I too hate traitors, Michael, when they are traitors to Britain!

End