Nicholas Searle - The Good Liar

05/05/15 5:32 PM

paper in the breakfast room of the London residence when he saw

the figure of David Millward, Lord Stanbrook’s political private secretary, silhouetted in the door frame as he moved past. Millward

returned and reappeared at the door. He leaned against the frame

and fingered it thoughtfully.

‘Morning, Roy,’ he said.

‘Morning, David. How goes it?’

The two of them had little to do with each other but enjoyed the

amicable relationship of passing acquaintances. Roy had no interest in politics and David seemed generally appreciative of the man who

kept their principal’s nose clean away from the hurly- burly of

government.

Millward beamed. ‘Never better. Just dropped by to pick up some

papers for the boss. Debate on arms purchasing this afternoon.’

‘Oh yes?’ said Roy and returned his attention to the newspaper.

‘Actually,’ said Millward with unaccustomed diffidence, ‘I won-

dered whether you might have time for a quick chat.’

‘What about?’

‘Oh, this and that.’

Roy folded his newspaper and laid it neatly on the table.

‘Perhaps better in the boss’s study,’ said Millward. ‘You know . . .’

They walked together up the flight of stairs.

‘Terrific weather we’ve been having.’

‘Yes,’ said Roy.

‘A touch too hot in London, though. One craves the countryside

on days like this.’

‘Indeed. We’re off to Burnsford at the weekend.’

‘Oh really?’ Millward seemed slightly put out.

They took their seats in the study, Roy spreading his large frame

on the leather chesterfield and Millward sitting primly in one of the club chairs.

‘Well then,’ said Millward, ‘this is somewhat awkward.’

‘Yes?’ said Roy, blinking very slowly.

‘The boss has been contacted by those people who are paid to do

these things. Those people in the shadows. You know . . .’

‘I’m not sure I do.’

135

1ST_9780241206935_TheGoodLiar.indd 135

05/05/15 5:32 PM

‘The spooks.’

‘Ah.’

‘Well, it appears they’ve been following around some Russian

character who’s visiting London. And the other day they spotted

him with one of his East German associates talking to you. In

St James’s Park, to be precise.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. The German fellow is some kind of member of staff of

Count von Hessenthal. He was at Burnsford last weekend.’

‘Indeed. Ernst Maier.’

‘Exactly. Care to tell me what the chat was all about?’

‘Not really. I didn’t take to Maier. Then he and his pal bumped

into me in the park.’

‘It seems you had an altercation.’

‘Yes. I knew the Russian from my military service, in Vienna. He

wanted to resume the relationship. I didn’t want to. That’s all there was to it.’

‘I see. Quite straightforward, as you describe it. But I’m afraid it’s not that simple. The thing is, the spooks seem to think that you may have been asked to provide certain services.’

‘Services? What services?’

‘Come on, Roy. It’s not difficult to imagine, is it? You occupy a,

shall we say, delicate position. They’d no doubt see great value in suborning you.’

‘Well, they didn’t suborn me. I terminated the conversation. Your

spies should be able to tell you that.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Millward soothingly. ‘Very glad. But, you see, they do rather insist on speaking to you.’

Fear ran through Roy’s veins. ‘I think I’d prefer . . .’

‘I’m sure we all would. The boss doesn’t want those beggars

crawling through his affairs either. But they are insistent. It’s all rather . . .’

‘Awkward. I know. You said.’

‘There is an alternative way, though. The boss has managed to

negotiate a possible different solution.’

‘Which entails?’

136

1ST_9780241206935_TheGoodLiar.indd 136

05/05/15 5:32 PM

Millward leaned forward.

‘Well, Roy, it’s not ideal. But His Lordship has managed to agree

with these people that they will take it no further provided you terminate your employment with him and withdraw with appropriate,

um, discretion.’ He smiled minutely with the gratification of having lighted on an apposite word.

‘I’d rather stay on and take my chances,’ said Roy gruffly.

‘Well . . .’ The word was long and drawn out, and repeated. ‘Well,

I’m afraid we don’t see that as an option. And nor do those people.

This may be a bit of a blow, but I’m afraid that we’ve reached a bit of an impasse so far as your future employment with Lord Stanbrook is concerned.’

‘You’re sacking me?’

‘I think Lord Stanbrook prefers to think of it as letting you go.

With considerable regret, of course. He believes it’s the only pos-

sible way, in everyone’s interests, not least your own. He doesn’t

want to put you through all that, if at the end of it you may be compelled to resign anyway. And of course he himself must remain

unimpeachable. I’m afraid he can have no proximity to anything

that whiffs of espionage. I’m sure you can see the logic. So sorry, but that’s that.’

‘Can I at least speak to him to state my case?’

‘Afraid not. He’s in the House at present and there is this Bill to nurse through.’ Millward adopted an apologetic expression.

‘And should I decide to brazen it out?’

‘You’ve every right to do whatever you choose, of course. I was

simply trying to offer a solution that might be more, um, elegant,

and in your interests too. You’re completely at liberty to ignore my advice. I can’t predict the consequences.’

‘Would Lord Stanbrook keep me on?’

Millward smiled briefly. ‘I think we’re beyond that point. I’m

rather afraid you have to accept that your employ with His Lordship is at an end. I think that in the court of public opinion a dismissal in these particular circumstances would seem perfectly justified, given your contact with these individuals. But I very much hope it won’t

come to that.’

137

1ST_9780241206935_TheGoodLiar.indd 137

05/05/15 5:32 PM

Roy thought, his face impassive.

‘Of course,’ said Millward, ‘His Lordship would be suitably gen-

erous in view of your sterling efforts for him. He has seen fit to set work in train to secure you alternative employment. One of his

father’s former gardeners runs a small nursery in a delightful little Norfolk village. I’ve been so bold as to arrange that you could start there next Monday.’

‘I don’t have a clue about gardening.’

‘The position’s more one of general duties. It won’t be onerous

and the wages will be more than sufficient. And there’s one other

thing.’

‘Yes?’

‘Lord Stanbrook is extremely grateful for all your hard work.

He’s authorized me to offer you appropriate financial compensa-

tion in lieu of notice and in recognition of your loyalty. I’ve made out a cheque. The job offer and the remuneration are, so to speak,

a package. They go together.’

With his spindly fingers, he deftly drew out a piece of paper from

his inside pocket, placing it on the low table in front of the couch.

Without touching it, Roy leaned forward and looked at it,

expressionless.

‘And how long would I have? When would I need to clear out?’

Millward smiled, without triumph. ‘There’s only so long that we

can hold the dogs off. I think from all perspectives it would be pref-erable if you can have left before Lord Stanbrook returns this