by Len Deighton
‘If not the Old Bailey, then what –?’
‘I keep telling you, Giles. Just keep your friend Chlestakov happy.’ I sat down on his bed. I wanted to show Trent that I was settling in for a long talk, and I knew that rumpling up his bed would irritate him. Irritation could make a man captious and indiscreet; that too was something I’d read in Trent’s training report. I said, ‘He had a sense of humour, your contact from the Embassy, calling himself Chlestakov. That was the name of the impostor in Gogol’s The Government Inspector. He’s the man who fills his pockets with bribes, seduces the prefect’s daughter, lies, cheats and swindles all the corrupt officials of the town, and then gets away scot free as the curtain falls. He does get away scot free, doesn’t he? Or does he get imprisoned at the end?’
‘How should I know?’
‘Gogol had a sense of humour,’ I persisted.
‘If not the Old Bailey, what?’
‘Don’t shout, Giles. Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Either they will feel you’ve cooperated and you’ll be put out to grass, and finish your days with the senior citizens of some seaside resort on the south coast – or you refuse to cooperate, and you will end up in the ambulance with the flashing lights that doesn’t get to the emergency ward in time.’
‘Are you threatening me?’
‘Well, I hope so,’ I said. ‘I’m trying like hell to get some sense into your brainless head.’
‘Chlestakov, or whatever his real name is, suspects nothing. But if you keep me locked up in this place you’ll certainly change that. Where are we, by the way? How long was I unconscious?’
‘Don’t keep asking the same thing, Giles. You know I can’t answer. The immediate question is: when are you going to start telling us the truth?’ There was no reaction from him except to examine his cigarette to see how many more puffs he had left. ‘Let’s go right back to that first interrogation. I was reading it this morning…’ He looked up. ‘Oh, yes. I keep at it, Giles. I’m afflicted with the work ethic of the lower class. In that first interrogation you said you regularly went to the opera with your sister and Chlestakov, to pass photocopied documents to him. I was interested to notice that you used the word “treff”.’ I paused deliberately, wanting to see if my mention of his sister and the visits to the opera had any effect upon him. Now I watched him carefully as I prattled on. ‘It’s a spy word, treff. I can’t say I remember ever using it myself, but I’ve often heard it used in films on TV. It has those romantic overtones that spying has for some people. Treff! German for meet, but also for strike or hit. And it has those irresistible military connotations: “battle”, “combat”, or “action”. It means “line of battle” too. Did you know that, Giles?’
His vigorous puffing had already burned the cigarette down and now he was nursing it, holding it to his lips and trying to make it last. ‘I never thought about it.’
‘That’s probably why Chlestakov used it on you. It made you both feel more daring, more rakish, more like men who change history. I once asked one of the KGB people why they gave their agents all those gadgets of the sort they gave you. The camera that looks like a cigarette lighter, the radio transmitter disguised like a video recorder and the one-time pads and all that. Chlestakov never asked you to use any of that junk – the KGB almost never do. Why would they bother, when all they have to do in a free society is have one of their hoodlums take a cab across town and have a chat or spend a couple of minutes in a photocopy shop? And this KGB man told me that it gave their agents confidence. Is that what it did for you, Giles? Did it make you feel more sure of yourself to have all that paraphernalia? It was fatal, of course. When we found all that stuff under the floorboards, you were sunk. Silly place, under the floorboards. Floorboards and attics – always the first place the searchers look. Was that Chlestakov’s suggestion?’
‘As a matter of fact, it was,’ said Trent. He got to his feet and, pulling the belt of his dressing gown tighter, went to the door. He opened it and looked along the corridor. When he came back again, he muttered something about wanting a cup of tea. He said he thought he’d heard the nurse coming, but I knew I had him worried.
‘To get back to the point, Giles. You said that you got opera tickets for Chlestakov and your sister, so that the three of you would look’ – I paused – ‘less conspicuous. That was a funny thing to say, Giles. I was thinking about that last night when I couldn’t get to sleep. Less conspicuous than what, I thought. Less conspicuous than two men? It didn’t make sense to me. Why would you take your sister along to the opera when you wanted to keep your meetings with Chlestakov as secret as possible? So I got up and started reading your transcript again. I found your descriptions of those visits to the opera. You quote your sister as saying that “Mr Chlestakov was a pleasant man, considering he was a Russian.” I suppose you said that to emphasize the fact that your sister had no particular liking for Russians.’
‘That’s right,’ said Trent.
‘Or even that she was prejudiced against Russians.’
‘Yes.’
‘Whatever your sister’s feelings about Chlestakov and his comrades, it certainly seems from your transcript that she was aware of his name and his nationality. Am I right?’
‘Yes.’ Trent had stopped pacing now. He stood by the little electric fire built into the fireplace and rubbed his hands together nervously. ‘She loved the opera. Having her with us provided a reason for the meeting.’
‘Your sister hasn’t been entirely honest with you, Giles,’ I said. ‘Last night I invented a question that even the worst-informed opera buff in the world would have been able to answer. Your sister told me she didn’t like opera. She said it vociferously. She said it as if she had some special reason for hating it.’
‘I don’t know what you’re getting at.’
‘Are you cold, Giles? You’re shivering.’
‘I’m all right.’
‘We know the way it really happened, don’t we, Giles? They got to you by means of your sister. Did Chlestakov, a nice gentleman of about the right age, go into that little wool shop your sister owns and ask help in choosing wool? For his mother? For his sister? For his daughter? Not for his wife – what had happened to her? Was he a widower? That’s what they usually say. And then when the relationship had flowered – they’re never in a hurry, the KGB, and I do admire that; we are always in a rush and the Americans even more so – eventually your sister suggests that you join their outings. And you say yes.’
‘You make it sound so carefully planned.’ He was angry, but his anger was not directed at me. It was not directed at anyone. It exploded with a plop, like a bullet thrown on to the fire.
‘And you still want to believe it wasn’t, eh? Well, I don’t blame you. It must make a man angry to find he’s performed his prescribed role in a play written in Moscow.’
‘She nursed my father for ten years. She turned down good proposals of marriage. Was I supposed to crush her little chance of happiness?’
I shook my head in disbelief. ‘Are you telling me that you thought it was all true? You thought Prince Charming had walked through the door of the wool shop, and your sister’s foot just happened to fit the glass slipper? You thought it might be just a coincidence that he worked for the KGB and you worked for the Secret Intelligence Service?’
‘He worked for the Soviet Trade Delegation,’ growled Trent.
‘Don’t make jokes like that, Giles,’ I said. ‘You’ll have me fall over laughing.’
‘I wanted to believe it.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘Just like me and Santa Claus, but one day you have to ask yourself how he gets those bloody reindeer down the chimney.’
‘What’s the difference whether I went to the opera with them, or she came to the opera with us?’
‘Now that’s a question I can answer,’ I said. ‘The D-G wouldn’t want to put you into the dock, for reasons we’ve already discussed. But there would be no such inhibitions about putting your sister there.’
‘My sister?’
‘With you as unnamed witness. You know how these things are done. You’ve read newspaper accounts of spy trials. In your circumstances, I’d have thought you’d read them with great care and attention.’
‘She has nothing to do with this business.’
‘You’d be silly to imagine that would be enough to keep her out of prison,’ I said.
‘You swine!’
‘Think it over,’ I said.
‘I’ll kill myself,’ he said desperately. ‘I’ll make a good job of it next time.’
‘And leave your sister to face the music alone? I don’t think you will,’ I said.
He looked so miserable that I gave him a couple of cigarettes and promised to have his clothes sent up to him. ‘Have your regular medical check and take your tablets or whatever it is the nurse wants. Have lunch and then we’ll have a stroll in the garden.’
‘Garden? It’s more like a jungle.’
‘Be ready at two o’clock.’
‘Be ready for what?’
‘Be ready to come clean on your pal Chlestakov, and straighten out a few of the inconsistencies I’ve come across in your transcript.’
‘What inconsistencies?’
‘That would be telling, wouldn’t it?’
There were gaps of blue sky, but the clouds were darkening to nimbostratus and there was rain in the air. Trent wore a short car jacket with a fur collar, which he turned up round his ears. On his head was a rather smart peaked cap that had come from an expensive hatter.
He seemed ill at ease in the country, and smoked another cigarette instead of breathing the fresh air. ‘When will they let me out of here?’ he asked. Having disposed of his cigarette, he picked up a twig, broke it into pieces and tossed them into the stagnant-looking moat.
‘You go home tomorrow.’
‘Is there someone who will cash a cheque for me?’
‘See the cashier.’ We walked alongside the moat until we came to a small wooden bridge and crossed it to where the shrubbery became neglected woodland. ‘There was a postcard from Chlestakov,’ I told him.
‘At my home?’
‘Where would you expect it to arrive?’
‘He wants a meeting?’
‘It says someone named Geof is having a fishing weekend. He caught four big fish of unspecified type and hopes to be back at work by two P.M. on the 16th of this month. I trust that means something to you.’
‘It means nothing to you then?’
‘It means only that the Moscow spy machine creaks along using the same antiquated ideas that have proved cumbersome for two decades or more.’
‘It seems to work,’ said Trent defiantly.
‘When a huge police state devotes so much time, money and personnel to infiltrate the open society we have in the West, it gets results.’
‘I don’t like the Russians any more than you do,’ said Trent. ‘I was forced to work with them.’
‘Because they threatened to report you to our security people. Yes, you told me all that.’
‘You can sneer – you’ve no idea of what it’s like.’
‘But you knew how to handle it, didn’t you? You did more and more spying. You grovelled before your pal Chlestakov and got him anything he wanted. For a man who doesn’t like the Russians, you set an example of kindness and cooperation.’
‘I knew that it wouldn’t last for ever, that’s why. I did many of the things they asked me but I took my time, and sometimes I said no. Sometimes I told Chlestakov that something wasn’t possible. I played for time. I knew that eventually they would let me off the hook.’
‘Why did you believe them? Why would any intelligence service let a well-placed agent off the hook?’
‘Chlestakov guaranteed that, from the start.’ Trent looked me in the eyes. ‘And I believed him. It was just to be a temporary measure. He promised me that. I imposed other conditions too. He promised never to ask me about things that would endanger our own agents. He wanted general background information.’
‘And a few little extra specifics,’ I added.
‘There were day-to-day things that Chlestakov needed for his official reports. He asked me about office routines and how the staff was rostered for duty. How old was Rensselaer, and did Cruyer own his house or have a mortgage? Many of his questions I couldn’t answer, and some I didn’t want to answer. But he told me that he had to have some such items that would impress Moscow.’
‘He played on your sympathy, did he?’ I asked sarcastically. ‘If you didn’t help poor old Chlestakov, he’d be moved to another assignment in some other town. And your sister wanted Chlestakov in London.’
‘It may sound silly –’
‘It sounds squalid,’ I said. ‘It sounds stupid and arrogant. Didn’t you ever wonder if your treachery was worthwhile? Didn’t you think your country was paying a high price for your sister’s sex life?’
‘Damn you.’
‘Didn’t you worry about being caught?’
‘No.’
‘Did Chlestakov not discuss with you the procedures he’d adopt if you came under suspicion? Didn’t he tell you that he’d get you out of Britain if things went sour? Didn’t he give you a number to phone if you had some security blood-hound asking you tricky questions?’
‘I’ve told you all that before. We never talked about the possibility of my being caught.’
‘And you’ve told me a pack of lies, Trent. Now I want some straight talking or you’ll find yourself in another of our country houses, one where there won’t be any walks in the garden or cigarettes with your lunch. Do I make myself clear?’
‘You make yourself clear,’ said Trent. My threats produced no real signs of fear in him – just suppressed anger. I could see a physical strength in him that matched his mental toughness. It was not the strength of the athlete but just the natural power of a man who’d grown up tall and strong. It was odd to think of Trent attempting suicide; still stranger to think of him failing to do it once his mind was made up, but I did not pursue the subject. We picked our way through the brambles and the bracken. There was the crack of twigs underfoot and the squelch of mud. Once a rabbit sprang out of the undergrowth and startled both of us.
It was Trent who spoke. ‘I told them I could never go to Moscow. I’d sooner be in prison in England than go to Russia and die an exile. Chlestakov said that was all right. He said it would suit them. He said it was better that I’d told them that right from the start, because then he could make sure that I never got any information that could embarrass the KGB if said in court.’
‘Embarrass the KGB! Is that the word he used? They put sane dissidents into lunatic asylums, consign thousands to their labour camps, they assassinate exiles and blackmail opponents. They must surely be the most ruthless, the most unscrupulous and the most powerful instrument of tyranny that the world has ever known. But dear old Chlestakov is frightened you might embarrass them.’
‘The past is past,’ said Trent defensively. ‘Tell me what you want of me now and I’ll do it.’
‘What does the postcard mean?’
‘I’m to meet Chlestakov next Tuesday evening. I must phone Monday afternoon at three to be told the details.’
‘I think it would be better if you cut through that one. Get hold of him and tell him it’s an emergency. Tell him you were brought here and questioned after taking an overdose. Keep as near the true facts as you can.’
‘Shall I say you questioned me?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Tell him you’re frightened. Tell him the game’s up. Tell him you’re scared, really scared.’
Trent nodded.
‘He’ll ask you if anyone else has been questioned, and you’ll say that everyone is being questioned. He’ll ask you if we had any evidence, and you’ll think about that and reluctantly admit that there was none.’
‘None at all?’
‘He’ll tell you that it was the overdose that made us take you into custod
y, and you’ll admit that that’s probably true. I want it so that Chlestakov is reassuring you. So you keep whining. He’ll ask you who is in charge of the investigation, and you’ll give him my name. He’ll tell you that I’m not senior enough to make this a really important investigation. And he’ll tell you that for something on the scale that you two are doing we’d bring investigators in from outside. Got all that?’
‘You’ve made it quite clear.’
‘And when the dust has settled on that exchange, you’ll tell Chlestakov what a pity it is that you were silly enough to take that overdose, because you’re now in a position to get something really big. Tell him you were going to write a report on the Berlin System – all the Berlin networks, every damn thing we are doing over there. That should make his mouth water.’
‘I’ve never heard of the Berlin System.’
‘He will have heard of it.’
‘But now I won’t be able to get it? Is that what I tell him?’
‘Softly, softly. It will take time. You want to be quite sure you’re no longer under any sort of suspicion. But this is really big stuff, tell him. This file contains all the facts and figures back for ten years and there will be all the CIA contacts and exchanges too.’
‘And eventually you’ll give me material to pass to him?’ asked Trent. ‘It’s better if I know right at the start.’
‘We won’t let you down, Giles. We’ll give you something that will make him happy and keep comrade Chlestakov where he can get his slippers warmed.’
‘Keep my sister out of this.’
‘Okay. I’ll keep her out of it. But you’d better give me two hundred per cent.’
‘I will,’ he said.
We came back through the shrubbery and onto the little humpbacked bridge. Trent stopped to light another cigarette, ducking into his coat collar to shelter the flame. I said, ‘There’s something I want to ask you. It’s not important to the debriefing, I’m just curious.’
