Brian Freemantle - Comrade Charlie

He handed one to Charlie and said: ‘I’ve got the report from internal security. And their recommendations. They’ve itemized eight positive breaches and recommend your severe reprimand and that those reprimands be logged on your service record.’

They’d have been pissed off at that being the best — or rather the worst — that they could do, Charlie knew. He said: ‘I suppose that’s about right.’

‘I’ll say it again,’ remarked Wilson. ‘You behaved like a bloody fool. An absolute bloody fool.’

‘Yes,’ accepted Charlie meekly. He didn’t accept it at all but now was not the time to argue, sitting there with a glass of the Director General’s whisky in his hand.

Wilson propped himself at the window again, gazing into his drink. ‘Did she turn up?’

‘Yes.’

‘Alone?’

‘She appeared to be. It was impossible in surroundings like that to be absolutely sure.’

‘Why didn’t you make the contact?’

‘It wasn’t right,’ said Charlie. ‘She had to know.’

Wilson nodded, in agreement. ‘I would have thought so. We could be wrong, of course, but I doubt it…’ He looked up from his glass. ‘Was it important to you?’

‘Yes,’ admitted Charlie at once. ‘Very important.’

‘Then I’m sorry. Personally sorry, I mean.’

Charlie shrugged, not immediately speaking. Then he said: ‘Whatever the full story, I had to allow the doubt.’

‘Let’s move on,’ said Wilson briskly. ‘There are other things that need to be discussed. I’ve read your account…’

‘Yes?’ said Charlie inquiringly.

‘My impression is that it is completely honest.’

‘It is,’ assured Charlie.

‘Then be honest about something else.’

‘What?’

‘Did you intentionally embark, before the Isle of Wight business, to set up the deputy Director General or Hubert Witherspoon?’ demanded Wilson. ‘Create situations — aware as you were of certain personal feelings concerning you — that would lead them to overstep the mark perhaps?’

Charlie stared directly across at the other man, holding his eyes. ‘No, sir,’ he lied, ‘I did not.’

Wilson gazed back, matching Charlie’s look just as directly. There were several moments of silence. Wilson said: ‘I want your assurance on this. You are being utterly truthful about that?’

‘Yes I am,’ said Charlie, feeling no discomfort.

Wilson nodded three or four times, quite slowly, and made a sound as if he were humming to himself. He said: ‘There were some serious management mistakes. The credibility of the department has been called into question.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Charlie. He still felt no discomfort. Remorse, either. The bastards wouldn’t have felt anything for him, if they’d caught him out in the beginning or if the Soviet manipulation had turned out differently. They’d have been out somewhere celebrating by now, two glasses of lemonade and lots of self-satisfied back-slapping about how clever they’d been, ridding the department of an embarrassing oddity called Charlie Muffin.

‘It’s been decided there should be certain changes,’ disclosed Wilson. ‘Mr Harkness is being appointed Finance Director.’

It was difficult for Charlie to remain straightfaced. No longer deputy Director General! Charlie had never expected that: imagined trying to achieve it, even, because he wouldn’t have thought it possible. And it wouldn’t have been, not from what he’d done, he recognized objectively. Their overreaction, their embarrassing mistakes, had been related to what they were fed by Moscow. His part in their downfall had been to expose the Soviet manoeuvre for what it was. He said: ‘Who is the new deputy Director General going to be?’

‘That’s still to be decided,’ refused Wilson.

‘And Witherspoon?’

‘Administration,’ said Wilson vaguely. ‘He will no longer be maintained on the active roster.’

Charlie supposed he should feel some satisfaction — be grateful at least that his two most active critics in the place had been dumped at the same time — but he didn’t. Somehow it now seemed quite unimportant. He said: ‘What about me? Is any change to be made to my role here?’

Wilson’s face relaxed, into something of a smile. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Nothing at all. But I want you to listen, very carefully. Don’t you ever take so many chances again: try to run everything like a one-man army. It’s an absolute bloody miracle that things did not turn out to be a bigger disaster than they were: a miracle that the whole Russian scheme didn’t get you sent away for more years than you’ve got left to live.’

‘What has happened?’ asked Charlie.

Wilson gave an uncertain movement with his hand. ‘One of the many things we’ll never know is why they held back the film roll of the drawing they planted in King William Street. We can only thank Christ that they did and we were able to destroy it. We know they retrieved what we put there because we followed Losev every step of the way. Now all we can do is sit and pray, which is hardly enough but all there is. There’s been a lot of direct telephone conversations between the President and the Prime Minister. Between the American directors and myself, as well. No one believes it’s going to work; that it stands a chance in hell.’

‘What about the people rounded up from the safe house?’

‘There’s a lot of squabbling over that. America is pressing for a full-blown spy trial: certainly they want to sweat every drop they can out of the scientist. His name turns out to be Yuri Guzins, incidentally: we traced him from some photographs taken at the Soviet installation at Baikonur.’

‘What do you want to do?’

‘Guzins is tempting: bloody tempting,’ said Wilson. ‘The other two don’t matter. I’d prefer to have Obyedkov expelled: usual grounds about activities not in keeping with his supposed diplomatic status. The other one too, for entering on a false passport. The FBI have identified him as Alexandr Petrin. He’s based in the Soviet consulate in San Francisco. Washington take that as positive confirmation that Krogh’s leaked everything there is to tell about the work his company were doing.’

‘What about Krogh?’

‘That’s what really angers the Americans,’ disclosed Wilson. ‘There’s been a second operation and there doesn’t seem to be any doubt there’s permanent and severe brain damage. He can’t talk even if he wanted to. Seems it’ll never be possible to bring him to trial.’

‘So who’s going to get their way?’ pressed Charlie.

Wilson sighed, shifting himself against the window sill. ‘The trouble with staging a major trial is that restricted though it would be, actually in camera, there would have to be some revelation that America has lost its Star Wars supremacy. That would cause an enormous public outcry in America but for the wrong reasons: there would be a huge loss of confidence, a fear that they were no longer in control but vulnerable instead, not outrage that Russia steals Western technology, because most people accept that already. I can’t see any purpose in finger-pointing: it’s closing the stable door after the horse has bolted.’

‘Which leaves Blackstone?’

‘Who didn’t actually do anything,’ reminded the Director General. ‘We’ll orchestrate the court hearing quietly enough. It will be a closed session again. The charge will be attempting to assist in a hostile act, so there’ll be a term of imprisonment. Losev will be incriminated, so we can get rid of him, cause Moscow some little inconvenience.’

‘The decision is ours, here in London, isn’t it?’ pointed out Charlie. ‘There could only be an American prosecution if Krogh could be arraigned, which he can’t.’