Len Deighton - Spy Sinker

'It's no more than a hunch,' said Bret, after a long time of just looking down at the cobbled mews and the shiny cars parked there. 'But I just know Kennedy is a part of it. I just know he is. I'm sure they put Kennedy in to run a check on Mrs Samson. They met at a railway station; I'm sure it was contrived.' He let a little whisky touch his lips. 'She must have got through whatever test he gave her, because the signs are that Dr Kennedy is in love with her and continues to be. But Kennedy is a bomb, ticking away, and I don't like it. I kept an eye on Pryce-Hughes because I hoped there would be some contact. But it's a long time ago: I guess I was wrong.'

'Too much guessing, Bret.'

'Yes, Sir Henry.'

'Facts trump the ace of hunches, right?'

'Yes, of course, sir.'

'You'll collar Pryce-Hughes?'

'I'd rather leave that a little longer, Director. I tried to provoke him into a response a few years back. I had someone produce an elaborate file that "proved" Pryce-Hughes was working for London Central. It was a magnificent job – documents, photos and all sorts of stuff – and it cost an arm and a leg. I went along when it was shown to him.'

'And?'

'He just laughed in our faces, sir. Literally. I was there. He laughed.'

'I'm glad we had this little chat, Bret,' said the D-G. It was a rebuke.

'But the file I compiled to incriminate Pryce-Hughes could be very useful to us now, sir.'

'I'm listening, Bret.'

'I want to have the whole file revised so it will incriminate this KGB Colonel Pavel Moskvin.'

'The thug who murdered that lad in the Bosham safe house?'

'I believe he's a danger to Fiona Samson.'

'Are you sure this is not just a way of using that damned file?'

'It will cost very little, sir. We can plant it into the KGB network very easily. That Miranda Keller woman would be perfect in the role of Moskvin's contact.'

'It would be a bit rough on her, wouldn't it?' said the D-G.

'It's Fiona Samson we have to think of,' said Bret.

'Very well, Bret. If you put it like that I can't stop you.'

England. Christmas 1983.

Gloria Kent felt miserable. She had brought Bernard Samson's two young children to spend Christmas with her parents. She was tall and blonde and very beautiful and she was wearing the low-cut green dress she had bought specially to impress Bernard.

'Why isn't he with his children?' Gloria's mother asked for the umpteenth time. She was putting the Christmas lunch dishes into the dishwasher as Gloria brought them from the table.

'He was given Christmas duty at the last minute,' said Gloria. 'And the nanny had already gone home.'

'You are a fool, Gloria,' said her mother.

'What do you mean?'

'You know what I mean,' said her mother. 'He'll go back to his wife, they always do.' She dropped a handful of knives and forks into the plastic basket. 'A man can't have two wives.'

Gloria handed over the dessert plates and then put clingfilm over the remains of the Christmas pudding before putting it into the refrigerator.

Ten-year-old Billy Samson came into the kitchen. He was still wearing the paper hat and a plastic bangle that he'd got from a Christmas cracker. 'Sally is going to be sick,' he announced, without bothering to conceal his joy at the prospect.

'No she's not, Billy. I just spoke to her, she's doing the jigsaw. Is the video finished?'

'I've seen it before.'

'Has Grandad seen it before?' asked Gloria. It had been established that Gloria's father was Grandad.

'He's asleep,' said Billy. 'He snores.'

'Why don't you help Sally with the jigsaw?' said Gloria.

'Can I have some more custard?'

'I think you've had enough, Billy,' said Gloria firmly. 'I've never seen anyone eat so much.'

Billy looked at her for a moment before agreeing and wandering off to the drawing room. Mrs Kent watched him go. The little boy was so like the photos of his father. She was sorry for the poor motherless mite but was convinced that her daughter would know only pain from her reckless affair with 'a married man at the office'.

'I know everything you want to say, Mummy,' said Gloria, 'but I love Bernard desperately.'

'I know you do, my sweetheart.' She was going to say more but she saw her daughter's eyes already brimming with tears. That was the heart-wrenching part of it, Gloria knew that only misery was in store for her.

'He didn't want to go,' said Gloria. This awful man at the office sent him. I planned everything so carefully. I wanted to make him and the children really happy.'

'What does he say about it?' her mother asked, emboldened by the wine she'd had with lunch.

'He says the same things you say,' said Gloria. 'He keeps telling me he's twenty years older than I am. He keeps saying I should be with someone else, someone younger.'

'Then he can't love you,' declared her mother emphatically.

Gloria managed a little laugh. 'Oh, Mummy. Whatever he does he's wrong in your eyes.'

'When you first told us your father couldn't talk about it for weeks.'

'It's my life, Mummy.'

'You are so young. You trust everyone and the world is so cruel.' She packed the last dirty plate into the dishwasher, closed its door and straightened up. 'What is he doing today that is so important? Or should I not ask?'

'He's in Berlin, identifying a body.'

'I'll be glad when you go to Cambridge.'

'Yes,' said Gloria without enthusiasm.

'Isn't his wife in Berlin?' said her mother suddenly.

'He won't be seeing her,' said Gloria.

In the next room Billy pulled a chair up to the card table where Sally was working at the jigsaw – 'A Devon Scene' – which was a present from Nanny. Sally had got two edges of it complete. Without saying anything Billy began to help with the puzzle.

'I miss Mummy,' said Sally. 'I wonder why she didn't visit us for Christmas.'

'Gloria is nice,' said Billy, who had rather fallen for her. 'What is separated?' He had heard that his parents were separated but he was not sure exactly what this meant.

Sally said, 'Nanny said Mummy and Daddy have to live in different countries so that they can find themselves.'

'Can't they find themselves?' said Billy. He chuckled, 'It must be terrible if you can't find yourself.'

Sally didn't find this funny at all. 'When she finds herself Mummy will come back.'

'Does it take long?'

'I'll ask Nanny,' said Sally, who was clever at wheedling things out of the quiet girl from Devon.

'Is Daddy finding himself too?' And then, before Sally could reply, he found a piece of sky and fitted it into the puzzle.

'I saw that bit first,' said Sally.

'No you didn't! No you didn't!'

Sally said, 'Perhaps Daddy could marry Mummy and marry Gloria too.'

'No,' said Billy authoritatively. 'A man can't have two wives.'

Sally looked at him with admiration. Billy always knew everything. But there was a look she recognized in his face. 'Are you all right?' she said fearfully.

'I think I'm going to be sick,' said Billy.

East Berlin. February 1984.

Hubert Renn seldom voiced his innermost thoughts, but had he done so in respect of working for Fiona Samson, he would have said that the relationship had proved far better than he'd dared hope. And when, in the first week of January 1984, he was offered a chance to change jobs and work at the Normannenstrasse Stasi headquarters, Renn declined and went to considerable trouble to provide reasons why not.

Hubert Renn preferred the atmosphere of the small KGB/Stasi command unit on Karl Liebknecht Strasse. And, like many of the administrative staff, he enjoyed the feeling of importance and the day-to-day urgency that 'operational' work bestowed. Also he'd adopted a paternal responsibility for Fiona Samson without it ever becoming evident from the stern and formal way in which he insisted that the office must be run. Neither did Fiona Samson ever demand, or seemingly expect, anything other than Renn's total dedication to his work.