John Le Carré - The Spy Who Came in from the Cold

Raising her hand to her face again, she nodded.

"You guessed it came from Leamas, or from Leamas' friend, didn't you?"

"Yes," she managed to say. "I heard in the Street that the grocer had got some money, a lot of money from somewhere after the trial. There was a lot of talk about it, and I knew it must be Alec's friend...

"How very strange," said Karden almost to himself. "How odd." And then:

"Tell me, Elizabeth, did anyone get in touch with you after Leamas went to prison?"

"No," she lied. She knew now, she was sure they wanted to prove something against Alec, something about the money or his friends; something about the grocer. "Are you sure?" Karden asked, his eyebrows raised above the gold rims of his spectacles.

"Yes."

"But your neighbor, Elizabeth," Karden objected patiently, "says that men called—two men—quite soon after Leamas had been sentenced; or were they just lovers, Elizabeth? Casual lovers, like Leamas, who gave you money?"

"Alec wasn't a casual lover!" she cried. "How can you—"

"But he gave you money. Did the men give you money, too?"

"Oh God," she sobbed, "don't ask—"

"Who were they?" She did not reply, then Karden shouted, quite suddenly; it was the first time he had raised his voice. " Who? "

"I don't know. They came in a car. Friends of Alec."

"More friends? What did they want?"

"I don't know. They kept asking me what he had told me. They told me to get in touch with them if—"

" How? How get in touch with them?"

At last she replied: "He lived in Chelsea...his name was Smiley...George Smiley...I was to ring him."

"And did you?"

"No!"

Karden had put down his file. A deathly silence had descended on the court. Pointing toward Leamas, Karden said, in a voice more impressive because it was perfectly under control:

"Smiley wanted to know whether Leamas had told her too much. Leamas had done the one thing British Intelligence had never expected him to do: he had taken a girl and wept on her shoulder."

Then Karden laughed quietly, as if it were all such a neat joke. "Just as Karl Riemeck did. He's made the same mistake."

"Did Leamas ever talk about himself?" Karden continued.

"No."

"You know nothing about his past?"

"No. I knew he'd done something in Berlin. Something for the Government."

"Then he did talk about his past, didn't he? Did he tell you he had been married?"

There was a long silence. Liz nodded.

"Why didn't you see him after he went to prison? You could have visited him."

"I didn't think he'd want me to."

"I see. Did you write to him?"

"No. Yes, once...just to tell him I'd wait. I didn't think he'd mind."

"You didn't think he would want that either?"

"No."

"And when he had served his time in prison, you didn't try to get in touch with him?"

"No."

"Did he have anywhere to go, did he have a job waiting for him—friends who would take him in?"

"I don't know...I don't know."

"In fact, you were finished with him, weren't you?" Karden asked with a sneer. "Had you found another lover?"

"No! I waited for him...I'll always wait for him." She checked herself. "I wanted him to come back."

"Then why had you not written? Why didn't you try to find out where he was?"

"He didn't want me to, don't you see! He made me promise...never to follow him...never to..."

" So he expected to go to prison, did he? " Karden demanded triumphantly. "No—I don't know. How can I tell you what I don't know?"

"And on that last evening," Karden persisted, his voice harsh and bullying, "on the evening before he hit the grocer, did he make you renew your promise? Well, did he?"

With infinite weariness, she nodded in a pathetic gesture of capitulation. "Yes."

"And you said good-bye?"

"We said good-bye."

"After supper, of course. It was quite late. Or did you spend the night with him?"

"After supper. I went home—not straight home. I went for a walk first, I don't know where. Just walking."

"What reason did he give for breaking off your relationship?"

"He didn't break it off," she said. "Never. He just said there was something he had to do; someone he had to get even with, whatever it cost, and afterwards, one day perhaps, when it was all over...he would... come back, if I was still there and..."

"And you said," Karden suggested with irony, "that you would always wait for him, no doubt? That you would always love him?"

"Yes," Liz replied simply.

"Did he say he would send you money?"

"He said...he said things weren't as bad as they seemed. That I would be...looked after."

"And that was why you didn't inquire, afterwards, wasn't it, when some Charity in the City casually gave you a thousand pounds?"

"Yes! Yes, that's right! Now you know everything— you knew it all already. Why did you send for me if you knew?"

Imperturbably Karden waited for her sobbing to stop.

"That," he observed finally to the Tribunal before him, "is the evidence of the defense. I am sorry that a girl whose perception is clouded by sentiment and whose alertness is blunted by money should be considered by our British comrades a suitable person for Party office."

Looking first at Leamas and then at Fiedler he added brutally: "She is a fool. It is fortunate, nevertheless, that Leamas met her. This is not the first time that a revanchist plot has been uncovered through the decadence of its architects." With a little, precise bow toward the Tribunal, Karden sat down.

As he did so, Leamas rose to his feet, and this time the guards let him alone.

London must have gone raving mad. He'd told them—That was the joke—he'd told them to leave her alone. And now it was clear that from the moment, the very moment he left England—before that, even, as soon as he went to prison—some bloody fool had gone round tidying up—paying the bills, settling the grocer, the landlord; above all, Liz. It was insane, fantastic. What were they trying to do—kill Fiedler, kill their agent? Sabotage their own operation? Was it just Smiley? Had his wretched little conscience driven him to this? There was only one thing to do—get Liz and Fiedler out of it and carry the can. He was probably written off anyway. If he could save Fiedler's skin—if he could do that—perhaps there was a chance that Liz would get away.

How the hell did they know so much? He was sure he hadn't been followed to Smiley's house that afternoon. And the money—how did they pick up the story about him stealing money from the Circus? That was designed for internal consumption only...then how? For God's sake, how?

Bewildered, angry and bitterly ashamed, he walked slowly up the gangway, stiffly, like a man going to the scaffold.

"All right, Karden." His face was white and hard as stone, his head tilted back, a little to one side, in the attitude of a man listening to some distant sound. There was a frightful stillness about him, not of resignation but of self-control, so that his whole body seemed to be in the iron grip of his will.

"All right, Karden, let her go."

Liz was staring at him, her face crumpled and ugly, her dark eyes filled with tears.

"No, Alec...no," she said. There was no one else in the room—just Leamas tall and straight like a soldier.

"Don't tell them," she said, her voice rising, "whatever it is, don't tell them just because of me...I don't mind any more, Alec. I promise I don't."

"Shut up, Liz," said Leamas awkwardly. "It's too late now." His eyes turned to the President. "She knows nothing. Nothing at all. Get her out of here and send her home. I'll tell you the rest."

The President glanced briefly at the men on either side of her. She deliberated, then said, "She can leave the court, but she cannot go home until the hearing is finished. Then we shall see."