“But you were going to take me in—”
“We can’t do that,” Ruckles said reasonably. “It didn’t work out. We were going to take you in when Mirror succeeded.”
“But it’s not finished.”
“Nope. That’s the way it goes sometimes.”
Green held the telephone receiver with two hands in fear he might drop it. “But Ruckles. I’m out here alone. You’ve got to take me in. If they know it was me.”
“It’d be easier if you were with the opposition. But we’re part of the same government. We can’t do it.”
“But we served the President, we—”
“Easy now, Green. It’s a rough stick, old pal. I had to call you myself, let you know.”
“They’ll kill me.”
There was a pause. “Not necessarily.”
Not necessarily. Green could not speak, so Ruckles interpreted his silence.
“Don’t go catatonic on me, Green. Be calm. Just get rid of the tape transmitter in the scrambler box and you’ll be just f—”
Green let the receiver fall. He sat for a long time in his pajamas and stared into the darkness. They would get him; they would make the connection. And now the company wouldn’t take him in.
So he fumbled downstairs in the darkness, the whole of Blake House silent save for the relentless tick-tick-tick of the clock. Would Uncle Hubert be able to save him? Would he want to save him?
Green felt ashamed though he hadn’t betrayed anyone; he had merely served his country and worked against his country’s enemies. Against traitors like the woman and like Devereaux.
He made his first drink. And then a second.
He went to the library and turned on a small table lamp and waited in the shadows; outside, it was raining, a cold, remorseless rain of winter.
When he looked up again and saw him in the doorway, Green was beyond surprise. He had been expecting him. He sat in the red leather chair and stared at the apparition in the doorway.
“Devereaux.”
He did not move out of the doorway into the light. “Where is she?”
“Gone.”
It was so hopeless. He took the glass from the table and drank and then put it down again. Even the booze didn’t work anymore.
“Where has she gone?”
He needed to explain; it wasn’t his fault. “They told me to give her a message. It was from Belfast. From you.”
The rain lashed against the panes of glass; the window rattled. “Where is Elizabeth?” The voice was low and almost still, like a dark pool.
Green looked up. He couldn’t see Devereaux clearly. “How did you get in?”
There was no answer.
“This is a safe house.”
“There are no safe houses.”
Green shrugged. “You’re right.” He looked at the ice cubes in the glass, melting into the yellow liquid. “Not for me anymore. Or for her.”
There was a snap.
He had heard that sound before. The click of a gun’s hammer. “Where is she?”
The hall clock sounded the quarter-hour with four notes of the Westminster chime. Then nothing but the stately tick-tick-tick.
“I gave her the message. To meet you. On the four o’clock Dover train at Victoria Station.”
Almost imperceptibly, Devereaux moved; Green could see the black gun in his hand.
“I don’t want to die,” Green said quietly.
“No one wants to die.”
“No. Of course. You’re right.”
“She went to Victoria Station to meet me?”
“Yes. She thought that. They sent someone to eliminate her. I don’t like that word.”
“And they killed her.”
“No. No. That’s the part that made them end the operation. I don’t understand it; they called me an hour ago.” He looked at his watch. “They waited until eleven to call me. But she must have gotten away right away. They knew that.”
“They didn’t kill her.”
Devereaux repeated it flatly, not as a question.
“No,” said Green. He grinned. He looked like a child. “She turned the tables on them. They said she killed their agent. I don’t know how. And she got away. They’re closing down the operation.”
“The ghost Section?”
“It was called Operation Mirror. To root out the traitors in R Section who had been disloyal to the nation.”
“And you were their man.”
Green looked up at the shadow in the doorway; his eyes had tears in them. “I had to. It was for my country. I had to work for them because they explained it to me, about you. You were a traitor in Vietnam; you worked for the opposition. And there was Hanley, he suppressed the Cuban report I prepared. Oh, they proved they were under the orders of the President. My country needed me and now they’ve left me to you to kill me. Mirror has failed and they’re letting the traitors live and the men who were loyal… they’re letting them die. I don’t understand it.”
Devereaux waited.
“Traitor,” Green suddenly cried at last. “You traitor! I served the company. I served them; I told them what I saw, what I heard. I had the transmitter tape in the scrambler and we got everything, everything you said, everything they all said, all the scheming.”
Green got up and went to the sideboard and poured vodka on top of the remains of the warm mix left in the glass. He gulped it, like a dog drinking water on a hot day. He set the glass down hard and turned to Devereaux.
“I was an agent. I was one of them.” He said it with defiance. “Kill me then, because I can stand to die for my country.”
“Where is she?”
The calm voice was counterpoint to the ringing declaration, like a cough in the middle of a speech.
“The housekeeper? I don’t know. She’s one of yours, you know. She didn’t know a thing; I hate her and her odious breath and her stupid cow face.”
“Where’s Elizabeth?”
“I don’t know. They don’t know. She killed the hit man sent after her. You see how it was; you weren’t on the four o’clock train and she expected you.”
“Who is your contact? At the company?”
“I won’t betray my country.”
“They have abandoned you.”
“I won’t betray them.”
Devereaux waited in the darkness. The rain did not cease; the clock ticked on; there were a thousand little noises and sounds in the silence.
“You won’t make me betray them.”
Devereaux spoke again, softly: “Green, listen to me. The CIA wasn’t after traitors. They only wanted to destroy the Section and they used you. They killed our real agents and they put the Soviets onto us so that eventually, no one would trust R Section and we would be destroyed.”
“Why don’t you come into the light?”
“You were the traitor, Green.”
“But I’m not a traitor. How can I betray an agency to an agency? This is the same side, the same country.”
“Why didn’t they take you in, then? They’ve left you. You said they left you. If it was in the interest of the nation, why didn’t they take you in?”
“I don’t know.”
Again silence. Green sat down and stared at the gun and then put a hand over his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“They’re not gathering information; they’re making murder. They killed Hastings in Edinburgh; they tried twice to kill Elizabeth, once in Belfast and once here. They tried to kill me. And they expect me to kill you, Green. They left you; do you think they would have left you outside if it had been on the square?”
Suddenly, tears formed at the corners of Green’s eyes. He reached for the glass of vodka and knocked it onto the carpet.
Devereaux stepped into the room and put the gun in his belt, under his jacket. Green stared at him. “We are not traitors,” Devereaux said gently.
“My God,” Green sobbed. “My God. I’ve made a mess.”