by Len Deighton
‘You’re not just a pretty face, Werner,’ I said with genuine admiration.
‘You don’t really imagine you’re going to be able to prevent all this emerging from an investigation of MacKenzie’s death?’
‘I don’t know, Werner. But I’ll try.’ Werner stared at me, trying to see if I was frightened. I was scared stiff but I did everything I could to conceal it.
I wished that Werner would change the subject, but he persisted. ‘And when MacKenzie got here he’d be sure to recognize Fiona. That would be sufficient reason why he was killed. They didn’t want him to report her. They wanted you to do it. Or maybe wanted you to not report her so that the eventual consequences would be worse for you.’
‘Let’s not get too subtle. The KGB are not noted for subtlety.’
‘You’d better rethink that one,’ said Werner. ‘Your wife is working for them now and she’s rewriting the book.’
‘Do you see evidence of that?’
‘Bernie, she knows that she could never get you to defect, so she’s not wasting any time trying. Instead she’s doing the next best thing; she’s persuading the department that you’ve already changed sides. In that way she will get you removed from Operations and maybe removed from the department completely.’
‘Because the KGB see me as their most dangerous enemy?’ I said sarcastically.
‘No, because Fiona sees you as her most dangerous enemy. You know her better than anyone. You know how she thinks. You’re the obstacle, the one person who is likely to understand what she gets up to.’
Perhaps Werner was right. Just as I was frightened of how Fiona could use all her knowledge of me against me, so I suppose she had the same fear of what I might do against her. The trouble was that, while our marriage had left her well aware of all my weaknesses, it had taught me only that she had none. I said, ‘That’s why I don’t feel like reporting any of this to London Central. They’ll say it’s evidence of my being pressured and they’ll keep asking me what I was under pressure about and eventually I’ll find myself telling them about Fiona meeting me at the airport. And then I’ll be suspended from duty pending investigations.’ I put the cap on the gin bottle, wiped it clean of prints, then washed up the glasses and put them back. I wanted to be active; sitting there talking to Werner was making me twitchy. ‘You can see this place is regularly maintained. Someone will find the body and report through the normal channels. Much better that way, Werner.’
But Werner was unrelenting. ‘I’ll do whatever you ask, Bernie. But I think you should go back to London Central and tell them everything.’
‘Have you left any marks anywhere?’
‘A few places. But I know which places.’
‘Look at that,’ I said, holding up the watch crystal. ‘Some bastard planted it upstairs near the body so it would be found by the investigating officer.’
‘I saw you pick it up. Yours, is it?’
I nodded and put the watch glass back into my pocket. ‘Let’s clean up and get out of here, Werner. Suppose we take the flight to Berlin tomorrow morning. Would that suit you? This will be a good time for me to be away from the office.’
Werner looked at me and nodded. I was frequently complaining of the way Dicky absented himself from the office at any sign of trouble. The way in which I was now running away from trouble offended Werner’s sense of duty.
‘What else?’ said Werner suspiciously. ‘I can see there’s something more. You might as well tell me now.’ He massaged his cheek as if trying to keep awake.
It was not easy to hide my thoughts from Werner. ‘London Central want to put you back on their payroll. Ten thousand sterling on account; regular monthly payments plus expenses against signature. You know the score, Werner.’
The sloppy cement of Werner’s face set into that inscrutable concrete expression he wore to prevent anyone discovering that he was happy. ‘And?’
‘They want you to take a short reconnaissance into the East and see what you can find out about Stinnes.’
‘For instance?’
‘His marriage; is it really on the rocks? What is his reputation? Was he really passed over for promotion or is that just a yarn?’
‘Is that all?’ said Werner with heavy sarcasm. His face was very mobile now, and he moved his lips to wet them, as if his mouth had gone suddenly dry at the thought of the risks. ‘Any advice from London Central about how I should go about discovering all the intimate secrets of the KGB? This is not a US base on visitors’ day. They don’t have press officers over there, handing out typewritten releases and glossy photos you can reproduce without fee, and maps of the military installations in case visitors get lost.’ He took a mouthful of the gin. Necessity had overcome his dislike of the flavour.
I couldn’t argue with him. He knew more about the difficulties of such a job than I did, and we both knew infinitely more than those people at London Central who were going to sign the report and get the credit. ‘Do what you can,’ I said. ‘Take the money and do what you can.’
‘It won’t be much,’ said Werner.
‘The money won’t be much either,’ I said. ‘So don’t do anything silly.’ Werner emptied his glass and gave me another one of his deadpan faces. He knew I was frightened.
14
I drove back to London listening to Ingrid Haebler playing Mozart piano concertos. I turned the car’s tape player up very loud as I tried to disentangle the thoughts and theories whirling endlessly in my brain. Had I been less tired, and less concerned with the death of MacKenzie, I might have taken reasonable precautions when entering my home. As it was, what should have been adequate warning for any man – the mortise unlocked and the letterbox flap still partly open after some hand had gripped the door to push it – did not register upon my thoughts. I walked through the front door and found all the downstairs lights burning.
I walked through the hall. There was no one to be seen in the front room so I pushed the door of the kitchen and stepped back. There was a figure lost in the gloom of the tiny pantry beyond. I touched the butt of the pistol in my pocket.
‘Who’s there?’
‘Bernard darling. I wasn’t sure if you were home or not.’
‘Tessa. How did you get in?’
‘You gave me a door key, Bernard. Surely you remember.’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m putting frozen soup and fish fingers into the freezer, my love. Your children are coming home tomorrow. Or have you forgotten that?’ She spoke over her shoulder. I could see her more clearly now in the dark shadows of the pantry. Her long fair hair was falling over her face as she stretched forward to reach into the freezer, the dark pantry ceiling made a firmament by the glittering diamond rings on her fingers. And around her there was the swirling ‘smoke’ of frozen air.
‘No,’ I said. But I had forgotten.
‘I spoke on the phone with your nanny. She’s a good girl but she’ll need food for them. You wouldn’t want her to go out shopping and leave the children at home. And she won’t want to drag them round the shops.’
‘It’s very kind of you, Tessa.’
She put the last packet into place and then closed the lid of the freezer chest with a loud thump. ‘So what about a drink?’ she said. She slapped her hands to remove the crystals of dry ice. She was dressed in a loose-fitting button-through dress of natural cotton, and under it a shiny pink blouse that went so well with her fair hair.
I looked at my watch. It was nearly midnight. ‘What would you like, Tessa?’
‘Did I see a bottle of champagne in the fridge? Or is that being kept for a tête-à-tête with the gorgeous Gloria?’
‘News travels fast,’ I said, taking off my coat and getting glasses and the bottle of champagne. I put the contents of the ice tray into the champagne bucket and put the bottle into it with water.
‘It’s so stylish to have a proper ice bucket,’ said Tessa. ‘Did I tell you that George bought a solid-silver one and someone swiped it.’
‘Stole it? Who?’
‘We never found out, darling. It was a party we had for car people. Some bastard stole the champagne bucket. I wondered if they knew it was solid silver or if they just took it for a lark. Oh, yes, I heard all about the exotic creature you took over there to dinner. I had coffee with Daphne.’
‘Daphne Cruyer? I thought you and Daphne…That is, I thought…’
‘Spit it out, Bernard darling. You mean you thought Daphne and I should be at each other’s throats since I had a little fling with Dandy Dicky?’
‘Yes,’ I gave all my attention to the champagne cork. After some difficulty it opened with a bang and I spilled some before pouring.
‘Daphne’s not like that, darling. Daphne is a lovely person. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d thought that Daphne would be hurt.’
‘Wasn’t she hurt?’
‘Of course not. Daphne thinks it’s all a most wonderful hoot.’
‘Why would Daphne think it’s a hoot for you to have an affair with Dicky?’
‘An affair. How romantic. It wasn’t an affair, darling. No one could have an affair with Dicky; he’s having an imperishable love affair with himself. What woman could compete with Dicky’s first and only love?’
‘So what was it?’ I passed her the glass.
‘It was a whim. A caprice. A sudden fancy. It was all over in a couple of weeks or so.’
‘Fiona said it lasted nearly three months.’
‘Not at all.’
‘Fiona had a good memory for that sort of thing. I’m sure it was three months.’
‘Well, three months. Don’t go on about it. Three months, how long is that? I can’t believe Daphne worried. She knew I wasn’t going to run off with him. Could you imagine me running off with Dicky? And now Daphne has him right under her thumb.’
‘Does she?’
‘Of course she does, darling. He’s feeling as guilty as hell, and so he should. He can’t do enough for Daphne nowadays; he even buys her flowers. Umm, that’s delicious champagne. I told you my doctor has put me on a special diet – lots of champagne but no other sort of alcohol and no sugar or fat.’ She turned the bottle so that she could read the lable. ‘Bollinger, and vintage too. My very favourite champagne. How extravagant you are becoming. Is this something to do with Gloria?’
‘I wish you’d shut up about Gloria,’ I said. ‘That bottle of Bollinger is the last bottle from the case you gave us as a present last Christmas.’
‘How silly I am,’ said Tessa. ‘How too too embarrassing.’
‘It was very kind of you, Tessa. And thank you for bringing the food for the children.’ I held up the glass as if in toast, and then drank to her.
‘But that’s not everything,’ said Tessa, who had a childlike need for praise. ‘I’ve had their room cleaned, and brought some new toys, and bedlinen patterned with huge dragons breathing fire. Pillows too. You should see them, Bernard. I wish they made them adult-bed size. Dragons; I would love them on my bed, wouldn’t you, darling?’
‘Talking of bed…’
‘Am I keeping you up, Bernard? You look tired. I’m sorry to come over here so late but I can’t let my bridge partner down. We were playing until past eleven. And he’s the one with the frozen-food wholesale place where I get all this stuff. He put it in the back of his car. It was all packed with dry ice. You needn’t worry.’
‘I’m not worrying.’
‘Can I have a splash more of that champagne?’ She poured it without waiting for a reply. ‘Oh, there’s lots. More for you? Then I really must go home.’
‘Thanks, Tessa. Yes.’
We both drank and then suddenly, as if seeing me for the first time, she said, ‘Bernard. Where have you been, darling? You look absolutely ghastly.’
‘I’ve been working. What do you mean?’
She stared at me. ‘You look positively ill, darling. You’ve changed. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. In just a couple of days you’ve aged ten years, Bernard. Are you ill?’
‘Easy does it, Tessa.’
‘Seriously, my love. You look frightful. You haven’t had an accident in the car? You haven’t run over someone or something like that?’
‘Of course not.’
‘George had a bad accident a couple of years ago and I remember he went quite grey-haired overnight. And he looked as you do; green, darling. You look green and quite old.’
I picked up the champagne and said, ‘If we’re going to finish this bottle we might as well sit down and talk in comfort.’ I led the way into the front room, switched on the lights and we sat down. I said, ‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.’
‘I know. All this business with Fiona; it must be absolutely rotten for you. And now, with Daddy making himself an absolute arsehole about the children, you must be having quite a time of it. And money must be a problem too. Daddy says you’re selling this house. You’re not, are you?’ Tessa seemed tired too; at least she was not her usual high-spirited self. She let her hair swing across her face as if she wanted to hide behind it, like a child behind a curtain playing peekaboo.
‘Not for the time being.’
‘Hang on to it, Bernard. Daddy says it’s too big. But it’s a sweet little house and you must have a playroom for the children as well as a bedroom. And if nanny didn’t have that large bedroom, she’d want a sitting room too.’
‘Your father said it was too big because he wants the children with him at Leith Hill.’
‘I know. I told him it was a stupid idea.’ Her face twitched and for a moment I wondered if she was going to cry but she pushed her knuckle against her face and recovered her composure. ‘He’d never tolerate the noise the children make, and can you imagine him playing with them or reading to them at bedtime?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘He just wants the children as ornaments. Just like those suits of armour in the hall, and that ridiculous library, filled with expensive first editions that he never looks at, except when he calls a valuer in to renew the insurance. And then he goes off to tell everyone at his club what a wonderful investment he made.’
‘I suppose he has his good points,’ I said, more because of the distress she was showing than because I could think of any.
‘He keeps them well hidden,’ she said, and laughed as if shaking off her sudden bout of sadness. She got to her feet, reached for the champagne bottle and filled her glass and mine before going back to the sofa. Then she slipped off her shoes and, leaning one elbow on the sofa end, tucked her feet under herself.
‘Do you want to phone George?’ I offered. ‘Does he know where you are?’
‘The answer is no to both questions,’ she said. ‘And the answer to the next question is that he doesn’t care either.’
‘Are things all right between you and George?’
‘George doesn’t love me any more. George hates me. He’s just looking for some way to get rid of me so that he can go off with someone else.’
‘Does George have someone else? Does he have affairs?’
‘How can I be sure? Sex is like crime. Only one per cent motivation and ninety-nine per cent opportunity.’ She drank some wine. ‘I can’t blame him, can I? I’ve been the worst wife any man ever had. George always wanted children.’ She rummaged through her handbag to get a handkerchief. ‘Oh, don’t look so alarmed, Bernard. I’m not going to start sobbing or anything.’ Despite this assurance she dabbed her eyes and gave every sign of doing so. ‘Why did I marry him?’
‘Why did you?’
‘He asked me. It’s as simple as that.’
‘I’m sure many other men asked you.’
‘George asked me when I was feeling low. He asked me at a time when I suddenly wanted to be married. You wouldn’t understand; men never feel like that. Men just get married for peace and comfort. They never feel frightened of not being married the way women do sometimes.’
I was embarrassed by the intensity of her fe
elings. ‘How do you know George has someone else? Has he told you so?’
‘A wife doesn’t have to be told. It’s obvious that he doesn’t love me. He has someone else; of course he does.’ She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief before looking up at me. She blinked and gave a brave little smile. ‘He’s taking her off to South Africa.’
‘Women always tend to imagine men have other women,’ I said. ‘If he hasn’t mentioned another woman, there possibly isn’t one.’
‘George might have begun to hate all women. Is that what you mean? Maybe George just wants a bit of peace and quiet away from me? Away from all women. Drinking and laughing with his friends in the car business.’
It was exactly what I thought. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Of course not. But George is very wrapped up in his work. He always has been, you know that. And the economy is still not picking up the way everyone hoped it would. Perhaps he needs to give a lot of thought to his business.’
‘You men always stick together.’
‘I hardly know George, but he always seemed a decent sort of chap. But you’ve led him a merry dance, Tess. It can’t have been easy for him. I mean you haven’t exactly been discreet with these little affairs, have you?’
‘And, if you were George, the chance of being in South Africa, a few thousand miles away from me, would be a wonderful opportunity. And certainly not one to be marred by taking a wife along with you. I mean, women are everywhere, aren’t they? You can rent them by the hour. Or rent them by the dozen. There are women available from the Arctic to the Pacific, from Persia to Peking.’
‘Women are available everywhere,’ I said. ‘But marriages, reasonably happy marriages, are extremely rare.’
‘I’ve been a fool, Bernard. George has always been a good husband. He’s never made a fuss about money, and until last week I never thought of George with other women.’
