Read India Black in the City of Light for Free Online Page B

half English with valuable information?”
    “He doesn’t appear half English to his Russian cousins. I told you he speaks the language fluently, and he’s as at home in Russia as he is in Oxford. Probably more so. He loves the language, the literature, the history, even the religion of Russia. His father was Anglican, but Harkwright attends an Orthodox church in London. He has an insight into the Russian character that we’ve found priceless. We must get him back at all costs.”
    “But what use will he be when he returns? I presume he won’t be able to set foot in Russia again, or in any Russian territory.”
    “No, but he still brings a great deal of expertise and experience to the table. The prime minister will rely on him to help us interpret Russian activities and discern Russian motives.”
    “And what of his relatives? Haven’t they noticed that he’s missing?”
    “As far as we know, the Russians have not revealed that they’ve arrested him. And his absence wouldn’t alarm his family. They’re accustomed to Harkwright disappearing into the hinterlands for long stretches. He’s cultivated the image of the dotty academic who lives for his research.”
    “What did you mean when you said you’d made Cutliffe valuable?”
    “Cutliffe
was
passing information to the Russians, but it was of little importance. When we learned that Harkwright had been captured, we decided to see if we could make Cutliffe’s contributions more critical to the Russians and attempt to arrange an exchange. So we built up Cutliffe’s reputation by providing him with doctored information to feed to the fellows in Saint Petersburg. They are desperate to find out what we are planning in India, and Cutliffe was considered a desirable source, placed as he was in the India Office. We created a fantasy, giving Cutliffe enough real information to entice the Russians, but also planting false data that would make Cutliffe appear more knowledgeable than he really is. That information was couched in such a way so as to not arouse Cutliffe’s suspicions, while at the same time leaving the impression that he was some sort of superior spy with access to much more information than he could safely transmit. His arrest was quite a heavy blow to the Russians, or at least they thought it was. We made sure of that.”
    “So you sold them a bill of goods,” I said. “Bloody good work, French. Nothing makes me happier than outfoxing those Slavic bastards. But does Cutliffe know he’s been used as a dupe? What will happen to him when the Russians find out he’s got nothing else to tell them?”
    French smoked contemplatively for a moment. “I’ve no idea. I should think they’ll dump him on the street when they learn he’s merely a low-grade clerk. Alternatively”—and here French frowned, as he often does when he cogitates about the villainous Russians—“I do hope they don’t figure out that Cutliffe was a plant. The Russians don’t take kindly to being deceived. It could go badly for Cutliffe.”
    I felt a twinge of sympathy as I gazed over at the gingery little fellow, but the feeling passed quickly. He should have considered what he was getting into, throwing in his lot with those cruel thugs.
    “What is the arrangement for exchanging Cutliffe?” I asked as I brushed the crumbs from my lap.
    French knocked the ash from his cheroot. “I am to meet the Russians tonight, or more precisely, tomorrow morning, at 4:00 a.m., behind the provisional chapel of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart.”
    “We should get there early for reconnaissance,” I said.
    “Only I am permitted to accompany Cutliffe.”
    I gave him a withering look. “Of course I’m not going to charge into the middle of your exchange. I’ll be hiding out, making sure that you’re not ambushed.
Is
there any place to hide at this basilica?”
    “I should think so. It’s under construction at the moment and I expect there are piles of stone and lumber to lurk