James Long - Sixth Column

‘You did?’ said Mackeson drily, down the line. ‘Well, there’s a surprise.’ He said it like it wasn’t.

‘What do I do?’

‘Go right ahead and find someplace else. Mind out, though, there are gonna be more.’

There were. Whoever put these bugs in went to the same school as Louis. All the best places. He did what he could as second best.

Sir Michael came out to welcome them when he heard the car arrive, kissing Heather affectionately and shaking Johnny’s hand while looking into his eyes with remarkable intensity. They had a glass of sherry in the kitchen.

‘I’m so sorry,’ the old man said, ‘I’m a bit behind. It’s been one thing and another all day today.’

They helped him with the final touches and if Johnny was wondering what a dinner with a recently widowed man would taste like he was surprised by the quality of the food Sir Michael had prepared. A chilled soup of spiced banana followed by salmon in a subtle, lemony sauce. Over the meal, they talked banalities. Sir Michael told tales of exotic postings in his long career, tales that always seemed to revolve around a central common point, that absolute truth did not exist and was decided partly by point of view. Johnny supposed that was the effect of being a diplomat for all those years but he found it easy to listen, to take him at face value, hooked by the man’s easy wit and charm.

In a room at GKC’s headquarters, Lady Viola, flanked by Sibley and Sir Greville, curled her lip and made disgusted little noises. At the Stray, Ray Mackeson, a tumbler of good malt whisky in his hand, sat with his feet on the desk staring into space waiting patiently.

After supper they took coffee into the study with them. Johnny looked at the desk, the scene of his breach of trust, and the desk looked reproachfully back at him.

‘Now about this doctor,’ Sir Michael said as he poured the coffee. ‘Do tell us.’

‘She’s moved to France and I don’t know her name or her address but I do know she’s going to be in Cherbourg next week. I know the hotel and I know the date. She’s attending a conference. I was thinking perhaps if someone went over they could at least talk to her.’

At the Stray, Ray Mackeson raised an eyebrow. In London it passed completely over Lady Viola’s head but an irritated look crossed Ivor Sibley’s face.

Heather exchanged a strange glance with Sir Michael, then he said, ‘That’s very good. Very good indeed. How on earth did you find out?’

‘Blind luck really. The person who bought her car when she left England was a neighbour. Dr Beevor sent her a postcard about the Cherbourg conference.’

‘Finding out who owned the car can’t have been easy. How did you do that?’

Johnny saw a small elephant trap ahead and side-stepped it. ‘I know someone who can get access to the computer,’ he said.

‘I would have thought that was illegal.’

‘Well, yes, but the end seemed to justify the means in this case.’

‘I’m very impressed,’ said Sir Michael affably. ‘A chap like you, comes back from being abroad all that time and can find someone with the right connections just like that.’

Johnny shrugged, pleased with his evasion, happy to take the credit. The older man put his coffee cup down, very deliberately, ‘I would have thought it was more likely you’d done it through your job at this Baron, Hockley place – or have you started calling it MI7 too?’

Of the six people listening to him, only two stayed calm: Ray Mackeson at the Stray, who simply leaned towards the speaker with increased interest, and Heather, who was watching Johnny like a goalie facing a penalty. In that second, Johnny realized with acute and overwhelming dismay not just that Sir Michael knew exactly who he was but that he’d always known, right from the start and that Heather must have taken part in this set-up.

He bowed his head, exhaled as if he’d been punched in the stomach and spoke to the floor.

‘Would you like me to go?’ he asked in a flat tone.

‘No,’ said Sir Michael, ‘certainly not. In fact if you try to, I will do my level best to prevent you, old as I am. I may not succeed but I shall try.’ He glanced across at Heather. ‘Would you mind making us some more coffee, my dear?’

She got up and went into the kitchen, closing the door carefully behind her.

Sir Michael poured two glasses of whisky and held one out to Johnny.

‘I don’t like playing charades,’ he said, ‘so I intend to speak very plainly indeed to you. You are my son and I knew it almost as soon as I saw you at the meeting.’ He gave a small sad smile. ‘I’ve kept tabs on you for years. I’ve got contacts too, you know.’

He leaned forward and stared intently at the younger man. ‘This isn’t the way I should have chosen to meet you again.’

‘Nor me,’ said Johnny and his tongue seemed to have an independence that surprised his brain. ‘I had no idea you were involved in all this. It’s all very well, isn’t it?’ His voice thickened suddenly with unexpected emotion, anger and a touch of self-pity. ‘You’re the invisible man all my life and you suddenly pop up out of the blue and put me wriggling on the end of a bloody pin. Do you think that’s fair?’

In London, Lady Viola nodded slight approval through her fury.

Sir Michael shook his head. ‘Not entirely. I’m sure my involvement in all this came as a great surprise to you,’ he said. ‘You’re a pretty poor actor, Johnny. I could see quite clearly that you had no idea I’d be at the meeting. I can’t really blame you for wearing false colours in your father’s house. It’s Heather that worries me.’ His eyes tightened into a frown. ‘I think a great deal of her.’

‘So do I.’

The older man gave an indignant snort. ‘Do you indeed? Not enough to stop you spying on her, telling her lies. God knows what you’re up to now with the flying and this French business.’

Johnny got to his feet.

‘Don’t go,’ said the old man sharply. ‘I meant it. I shall try to stop you.’

‘I’m not going,’ he said wearily, ‘I can’t go. I… I need to talk about it. It’s not like that at all.’

‘Well, what is it like?’

‘The reason I took Heather flying was because I wanted to see her again. The job part of it was more or less over. I didn’t expect to meet you and I didn’t know I’d wind up here for the night.’

Sir Michael was watching him closely. ‘And that is all?’

Johnny realized he was dealing with a man who had made an entire career out of penetrating the evasions and distortions of diplomats much more used to lying than he was. He also realized that regaining Heather’s respect and, inextricably it seemed, Sir Michael’s, was the single most important thing in his mind at that moment. This was the moment of decision.

‘No, it’s not all,’ he said, ‘because of the job, I came down in the night and looked through your desk. For that I apologize.’

Sir Michael sat there considering him, steepling his fingers together. ‘Well, I knew you had,’ he said, ‘I have to confess I set a bit of a trap for you there. Wanted to find out what you were after, you see. I thought I recognized you when I first saw you at the meeting. I was quite sure as soon as we got back here. I had to protect Heather. I didn’t tell her anything until the day before yesterday.’

Johnny thought about that. The day before yesterday. So effectively Heather had only been playing games with him for the duration of their drive over today. It struck him that was an odd way to look at it considering the part he’d been playing. The world seemed to him to have shrunk to contain just the two of them.