Brian Freemantle - See Charlie Run

‘It is important?’ asked Fredericks.

‘We’ll never know, will we?’ avoided Charlie, easily. ‘What happened then?’

‘I asked him straight away what he meant by having killed and wanting his freedom.’

‘And?’

‘He said he was Executive Action. That he’d murdered and that he wanted to stop but they wouldn’t let him, so he had to defect …’

‘Let’s stop for a moment,’ said Charlie. ‘Is that what he called it, Executive Action?’

Fredericks was cautious now. ‘Not at once,’ he conceded, immediately. ‘I asked him what department he was attached to and he said the First Chief Directorate, and then I repeated what department and he said another Russian word …’

Charlie cut across, decided he had to prompt this time. ‘Taini otdel? ’

Fredericks remained cautious, frowning. ‘That sounds like it,’ he said. ‘I can’t be sure but it sounds like it.’

‘It means secret division,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s an expression they sometimes use. What happened then?’

‘I told him again I didn’t speak Russian, so he said “Department V.” I recognized that, but to be sure I said, “Executive Action” and he said, “Yes.”’

‘Who’s he killed?’

‘He won’t say.’

‘He must have given some indication!’

‘He point-blank refused,’ insisted the American.

‘To a direct question: you asked?’ demanded Charlie.

‘Of course I damn well asked!’ said Fredericks. ‘Told me the knowledge was his value and that he’d tell us everything … victims, reasons, dates and locations, Russian rationale, everything … once he was safely across and his wife was safe, too …’

There was no way to discover if Fredericks were lying. There was a pathway he could follow, from what the American had given away so far. He said: ‘Tell me about that; it’s the reason I’m here, after all. Why this separate crossing business, with him and Irena?’

‘He’s frightened of being cheated … of being brought across, sucked dry of everything and then dumped … prosecuted even,’ said Fredericks. ‘I told him we didn’t operate that way: that we kept our word. But he said intelligence agencies were the same anywhere and that he wanted a guarantee.’

That’s what the Director had said, during the briefing, remembered Charlie. ‘He’s right about one thing,’ said Charlie, pointedly and from personal experience. ‘Defectors are always traitors, to whichever side: they’re usually shat on, once their usefulness is over. Did he explain how the splitting of the defections gave him protection?’

‘He talked of going public, in England and America.’

Autobiographies and lecture tours had made a few crossovers rich, reflected Charlie. The thought continued, worryingly: lecture tours in America, not England. It was a remark to remember and pass on to London. He said: ‘The figure was $500,000?’

‘We’d pay more,’ said Fredericks.

And had probably offered it, for the double package, guessed Charlie. Throwing out the lure, he said: ‘You just talked in generalities?’

‘That’s all,’ said Fredericks.

Too quick, judged Charlie. ‘No specifics?’

‘No specifics.’

Charlie decided to let Fredericks run awhile and believe he was getting away with the bullshit: there was plenty of time to open the trap and let the man fall in. He said: ‘How was he?’

‘How was he?’

‘Demeanour?’

Fredericks appeared to consider the question, sure he was conning the bastard. ‘Strangely calm,’ he said. ‘It’s been something very obvious, from that first occasion in the theatre.’

‘And that doesn’t strike you as unusual?’

Fredericks’ caution returned. ‘I don’t follow?’

‘He’s wants to quit being a murderer: presumably sickened and revulsed by it,’ challenged Charlie. ‘He wouldn’t be calm, surely? Particularly with the additional tension of planning as complicated a defection as this?’

‘He’s a trained man,’ argued Fredericks.

‘Who’s going against that training,’ said the Charlie. ‘Further cause to be nervous.’

‘He is nervous!’ insisted the American. ‘I’ve told you about all the crap of separate meeting places and only he being the person able to make the contact.’

‘That’s not nervousness,’ disputed Charlie. ‘That’s trained, professional caution. The opposite of nervousness, in fact.’

‘I think you’re making too much of it.’

‘I’m not making too much of anything,’ said Charlie. ‘I’m just trying to separate facts from impressions.’

‘You’re getting all the facts,’ said Fredericks.

Almost time for the drop, thought Charlie. He said: ‘How long has he been here, in Tokyo?’

‘He said he arrived in late ‘83. It checks out with the diplomatic registration at the Japanese Foreign Ministry,’ said Fredericks.

‘Before that?’

‘He talked of London. And Bonn,’ said Fredericks, intent for an obvious reaction from the Englishman.

There was none. Charlie remained quite unmoved and expressionless. He said: ‘What came from the checks of the diplomatic lists in both places?’

‘Nothing,’ said Fredericks, disappointed. ‘No Kozlov listed in either place.’

Inwardly Charlie was churning with excitement. If Kozlov had been posted — and killed — in London, then they and not the American had to have the man. And they would, Charlie determined. He determined something else, too. It had been right not to challenge the American until now. He said: ‘Is that it?’

‘That’s it,’ said Fredericks. There was even a look of satisfaction.

Charlie sighed, loudly, wanting the other man to hear. ‘Do you know what I think?’ he said.

‘What?’

‘I think we should decide something, you and I,’ said Charlie. ‘I think I should stop regarding you as stupid and I certainly think you should stop regarding me as stupid. Which is what we’re both doing at the moment. Like it or not — and I don’t like it any more than you do — we’re going to have to work together on this. Those are my instructions from London and yours from Washington …’ He paused, for the point to register. Then he took up: ‘You told me he’s genuine. You told me everything he said checks out … and you know what you’ve got so far, from what you’ve told me? You’ve got fuck all: absolutely fuck all. Nothing from what you’ve told me could check out, because there’s no independent corroboration. No photographs, no confirmation of posting, just the name on a Japanese Foreign Ministry register: you don’t even have proof that the man who’s met you four times, has the name of a few CIA agents and speaks in accented English, really is Yuri Kozlov …’ Charlie stopped again. ‘Now you know and I know that isn’t right. And you know and I know that a Boy Scouts’ group wouldn’t accept him on what you’ve so far told me. And although it’s sometimes debatable whether they actually succeed, the CIA try to do better than the Boys Scouts. So why don’t you stop buggering about and imagining you’re conning an idiot, and tell me how the man in the Hitachi roundabout theatre proved he was genuine?’

Charlie was intent upon the other man, pleased at the obvious reaction. Fredericks shifted in the chair, appearing to find it constricting despite its size. Then he sighed, for a different reason than Charlie earlier, and said: ‘On the second meeting, he gave us a name. It was one we didn’t have: we checked it out and it was right.’

Charlie shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘That won’t do.’

‘The name was Rodgers, William Rodgers,’ conceded the American. ‘Kozlov said he was an illegal, infiltrated into America from Canada five years ago. His real name is Anatoli Ogurtsov. He’s settled in San Francisco: runs an import-export business there. Deep cover. We’ve liaised with the FBI, of course; it’s their responsibility. They’ve so far identified four others that he’s suborned. Silicon Valley stuff, all hi-tech.’