Lord Carrol was attired in civilian clothes which somehow failed to disguise a military quality in his appearance. He indicated a chair next to his desk. "We've been instructed to give you every assistance Mr. ... Smith. Frankly, I can't imagine of just what this could consist."
Paul said, as he adjusted himself in the chair, "I'm going into the Soviet Union on an important assignment. I'll need as large a team at my disposal as we can manage. You have agents in Russia, of course?" He lifted his eyebrows.
His lordship cleared his throat and his voice went even stiffer. "All major military nations have a certain number of espionage operatives in each other's countries. No matter how peaceful the times, this is standard procedure."
"And these are hardly peaceful times," Paul said dryly. "I'll want a complete list of your Soviet based agents and the necessary information on how to contact them."
Lord Carrol stared at him. Finally sputtered, "Man, why? You're not even a British national. This is—"
Paul, held up a hand. "We're co-operating with the Russian underground. Co-operating isn't quite strong enough a word. We're going to push them into activity if we can."
The British intelligence head looked down at the card before him. "Mr. Smith," he read. He looked up. "John Smith, I assume."
Paul said, still dryly, "Is there any other?"
Lord Carrol said, "See here, you're really Paul Koslov, aren't you?"
Paul looked at him, said nothing.