Adrian refused to give up without a struggle. ‘On the facts as we know them at the moment,’ he said.
Ebbetts frowned, angrily. He had been walking up and down the small office, an unsettling trick he had perfected, so that people had to move their heads back and forth, like a Wimbledon tennis audience. He stopped, leaning across the table towards Adrian, the determination to crush obvious.
‘All right,’ he said, his voice over-controlled. ‘Let’s argue your objections to their ultimate, illogical conclusion. If you’re convinced that Pavel is here for some underlying reason, then you must have decided what that reason is. Are you suggesting that Pavel is here in the role of an assassin, to liquidate a former partner?’
‘No, I …’
‘What then?’
Ebbetts was being quite merciless, enjoying it even. Adrian wondered how much training it needed to develop the hardness, the disregard of everything except the need to win every discussion and point, no matter how trivial.
‘What then?’ echoed Sir William and Adrian looked at him in surprise. He’d almost forgotten his presence.
Adrian shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.
Ebbetts used that sigh again, the sneer more eloquent than any words.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Now we’ve dispensed with any doubt about Pavel, let’s start thinking objectively.’
He had resumed his pacing back and forth, but now he stopped, sitting down immediately opposite the debriefing team.
‘I know all about your usual procedures for debriefing, but this is an unusual case, a very unusual case, so we’re going to have to depart from routine.’
‘… depart from routine,’ came from the Premier’s right.
‘We’re under pressure, intense pressure,’ continued Ebbetts. ‘To hear the Russians talk, you’d think they’re going back to Berlin and the Cold War. I thought the Lyalin case was bad enough, but it was child’s play compared to this. Trouble is, the Americans seem to be backing the Soviets. Washington is very attracted by the Baikonur bait. If we don’t move quickly, there’ll be a major shift in friendships and we don’t want that.’
‘What do you want?’ asked Binns. Adrian realized how quiet the Permanent Secretary had been throughout the meeting. By his refusal to help, Sir Jocelyn was obviously expressing his agreement with the Prime Minister over the Pavel assessment.
‘I want Pavel debriefed quickly, more quickly than you’ve ever processed anyone before. I want the two men, Pavel and Bennovitch, thrown together. They’re friends. It’ll be a great psychological move, make them feel more relaxed, more ready to help …’
He looked directly at Adrian.
‘I am not taking you off this debriefing,’ he said. ‘Normally, I would. I repeat the point I made earlier. I think you’ve conducted it extremely badly. But speed is the key factor here and I don’t want to waste time on introducing another interrogator. That would lose two, maybe three days. But listen to what I say — I don’t want to waste time. You’re to eradicate completely from your mind and your attitudes and your questions any hint of doubt about Pavel or his intentions in defecting. Is that clear?’
‘Yes,’ replied Adrian, meekly.
‘I want to be able to promise Washington that their men can get to both Pavel and Bennovitch within a fortnight. The Americans want to go to Baikonur, but they want Pavel and Bennovitch even more. If I can give them a definite date, then we’ll keep the Americans on our side.’
He smiled, a conjuror about to produce his best trick.
‘And if Pavel and Bennovitch go to America, then the bad feeling goes with them. So we’ll have all the space knowledge that the two men possess, America will be indebted to us for years and Russia will switch its anger and resume normal relations with us in about six months.’
Despite his antipathy for Ebbetts, Adrian had to admire the reasoning. He sat, envying the man and his force-fulness. Anita would have admired it too. If he’d had the character of Ebbetts, then Anita would still be with him now, admiring him even, content to be dominated.
Adrian jumped, realizing Ebbetts was addressing him. ‘I said, any questions?’ repeated the Prime Minister, irritably.
‘No,’ said Adrian. ‘No questions.’
He paused, and it was obvious that he intended continuing, so they remained looking at him. ‘But I’d like to make a point, just one. I accept, from this afternoon’s meeting, how the stupidity of my doubts has been shown up …’
The Prime Minister smiled and made a deprecating gesture with his hands as if, unthinkably, even he had made mistakes on rare occasions.
‘… I accept completely the instructions I have been given. Pavel and Bennovitch will be thrown together, the debriefing will be speeded up and I shall do everything within my power to ensure we extract the maximum information before they are offered the opportunity of going to America, with the attraction of a space programme to work upon …’
‘I admire your attitude,’ said Ebbetts, smiling.
‘But let me say this,’ went on Adrian, his voice rising above the monotone in which he had been speaking. ‘I still believe I am right. Although it will not be evident from my subsequent examination of either man, my suspicion remains. I believe that something will happen, something which none of us can guess at this moment. I believe what I have been told to do is wrong. I should be allowed more time.’
He stopped, his stomach bubbling. For the first time in his life, Adrian Dodds had taken a position opposing that of the majority. He had expressed an opinion which isolated him from everyone, and put him in the spotlight. He had considered the outburst, at first dismissing the idea as ludicrous, but then he had realized that although he was being kept on the debriefing, for the sake of expediency, Sir Jocelyn would be told within hours to seek and train a new assistant.
Adrian had accepted his dismissal from the department even before he received it, and he realized that there was nothing he could lose by honesty. He had therefore decided, for the first time in his life, to express himself instead of stifling what he was really thinking, even if it clashed with the view of everyone else.
He had expected to feel euphoria, the self-satisfaction of knowing he was right against all opposition. Instead he felt sick and he wanted to use a toilet. He sat there with the three men staring at him as if he had mouthed an obscenity in a monastery, and wished more fervently than he ever had wanted anything before that he had kept his mouth shut.
‘I think,’ said Ebbetts, stiffly, ‘that this meeting is over.’
Pompously, he walked from the room, trailed by the Foreign Secretary.
As they walked back to their office, Adrian said, ‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve let you down. And the department too.’
Binns did not reply. His face twitched.
‘This will be my last debriefing, won’t it?’
‘I expect so,’ said Binns, controlling the stutter with difficulty. He isn’t at ease with me any more, thought Adrian. I’ve lost his friendship.
‘I really am sorry,’ he repeated.
‘It can’t be helped. It’s done now.’
‘I regret letting you down, personally.’
Binns shrugged. ‘What will you do?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Adrian. ‘There’s nothing else I can do.’
They entered the maze behind the Foreign Office, leaving the sunbathers in St James’s Park still unworried.
‘I believe I am right,’ said Adrian.
‘Obviously,’ said Binns. ‘But was one opinion worth destroying a career?’