Brian Freemantle - The Blind Run

The basic lesson of every interrogation course Charlie had ever undergone – and reinforced during countless actual sessions when he was operating – was that a good liar tells as few lies as possible, to minimise the chance of being caught out. He’d been as vague and as flippant about Italy as he had about everything else and he knew damned well they couldn’t trap him upon what he had said so far.

‘Was America involved in your capture?’ asked Natalia, approaching from another direction. ‘You said they tried in an earlier operation; the one in which Edith was killed.’

He hadn’t mentioned Edith by name, remembered Charlie: another slip. He said, ‘No, just the British.’

‘Still a large operation, though?’

The ambassador would have warned Moscow of the influx and the personal danger, Charlie supposed. He said, ‘I caused the disgrace of both the British and American Directors. And they failed to get me once. They didn’t take any chances, the second time. They flooded the place with people.’ He stopped for just the right amount of time and added, ‘And they got me, well and truly.’

‘Why did you betray your country?’ she demanded, suddenly.

‘I didn’t betray my country,’ responded Charlie, instinctively. Yet another direction surprised him and he decided definitely that she wasn’t as inexperienced as he had first thought. With that realisation came another; so he wasn’t being dismissed as unimportant. It pleased him.

‘Of course you did,’ she said. ‘You exposed two Directors to arrest and enabled the repatriation of a Russian your country had jailed as a spy.’

‘It was a personal thing,’ insisted Charlie. ‘I told you they were prepared to screw me: I screwed them instead.’

‘What gave you the right to question the decision of your superiors?’

‘The fact that it was my life they were making a decision about,’ said Charlie, vehemently.

‘To whom do you consider the first loyalty.’

‘Me,’ said Charlie at once. ‘My first loyalty is always to me.’ There was no danger in this philosophising but Charlie was cautious now, conscious how she used directional changes in attempts to off-balance.

‘There must have been many times, as an active field agent, when you were engaged in an operation which put your life at risk.’

‘No,’ said Charlie, refusing the argument. ‘All the other operations carried the acceptable risks, which I knew and understood. This time they made an active, positive decision to sacrifice me. That wasn’t acceptable.’

‘To you?’ she said.

‘To me,’ agreed Charlie. He thought he knew the tactic: to prod and goad until he lost his temper. Never lose your temper: another caution in interrogation.

‘Many people would regard that attitude as arrogant,’ said the woman. She paused and added. ‘Which it is.’

‘And many people would regard it as an instinct for survival,’ said Charlie. ‘Which it is.’ He feigned annoyance, raising his voice, curious where she was leading the questioning.

‘The court that sentenced you thought otherwise.’

Back to Italy, recognised Charlie. Very clever. He said, ‘I didn’t expect anything else.’

She waited several moments, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t she said, ‘Didn’t you try to put your point of view to the court?’

It had been a secure hearing and he didn’t think there could have been any way for them to learn of the evidence. He said, ‘Of course I did. But they didn’t want to listen, did they! Made their minds up before the trial started.’

‘They weren’t seen to get their revenge, were they?’ she said. The hearing was in secret.’

Good again, admired Charlie. He said, ‘It’s customary, under our law, in the case of security. Like I’ve already said, they’d have been embarrassed if the full facts had come out about their own Director being seized.’

‘What did come out?’

‘Not much,’ said Charlie, hoping he sounded dismissive enough. They made it sound as if I was a long term Soviet agent, which I wasn’t and never had been: that my whole purpose in being in intelligence was to get to the point where I could trap the Director. That wasn’t true, either.’

‘Wasn’t and never had been,’ echoed Natalia.

‘You know that,’ said Charlie, anticipating another move.

‘Then why have you come to Moscow?’

Charlie laughed, genuinely. ‘I didn’t have any choice, did I? Sampson was in the same bloody cell.’

‘Is that all?’

‘No, that’s not all. I came because I couldn’t stand another day in that damned prison,’ said Charlie, genuine still.

‘But you don’t think of yourself as someone subscribing to the communist way of life?’

Careful, thought Charlie. No more lies than absolutely necessary, he remembered. ‘No,’ he admitted honestly. ‘I don’t see myself subscribing to your way of life.’

‘Why then should we give you sanctuary?’ she asked forcefully, staring up at him. ‘People were hurt, killed, during your escape. Why should we harbour you to the embarrassment of ourselves?’

‘I didn’t hurt anyone. Or kill anyone,’ said Charlie.

‘Something else you’re not guilty of?’ she said, jeeringly.

She almost won. Charlie felt the burn of anger, coming close to giving way to it and then stopped himself. He said, ‘Sampson is a maniac.’

‘What if he attests the same against you?’

‘Your own people saw him shoot the policeman,’ said Charlie, scoring. ‘Ask them.’

‘You don’t like him?’

Charlie laughed again. ‘Like him! I despise him. He’s a traitor and he’s dangerous. Not as a traitor. As a man. I think he gets pleasure from inflicting hurt.’

‘How was he regarded within your service?’

Another pathway, recognised Charlie. He was comfortable with the interrogation now, no longer complacent but confident he could anticipate the traps. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

‘Weren’t you contemporaries?’

‘No.’

‘Not even in the same departments?’

‘No.’

‘You don’t consider yourself a traitor?’

Which way was she going now? ‘No,’ repeated Charlie.

‘If you had been in the same department – knew his capabilities – would you tell me? Or would you regard that as being a traitor?’

‘My dear Natalia,’ said Charlie, intentionally patronising and seeing an easy escape. ‘If I knew anything at all about Edwin Sampson I’d tell you.’

‘So what do you know about him?’

She’d refused to become irritated by his attitude just as he had by hers, Charlie knew. He said, ‘About his work in the service, nothing. And about his betrayal only what I read in newspapers, like everyone else. In jail he was very clever, ass-crawling to everybody who mattered and getting himself trusted, which made the escape possible. And during that he delighted in causing as much physical harm as possible, as I already told you.’

‘Just as you already made it clear to me that you don’t like him,’ said Natalia. ‘Would you trust him, professionally?’

‘No,’ said Charlie immediately. ‘Sampson’s first regard would be to himself, not to the operation.’

‘Wasn’t that your attitude when you exposed your Directors?’ she pounced. ‘And isn’t it still?’

Shit, thought Charlie. He said, ‘I never failed, in any operation in which I was ever involved. I always won.’

‘Was that because of loyalty to the service?’ she asked, presciently. ‘Or personal pride?’

Shit again, he thought. Charlie said, ‘The two made a great contribution.’

‘Will you co-operate with us?’ asked his interrogator. ‘Cooperate in a full debriefing and supply us with whatever information we ask of you?’