Adrian stared at him. He’d known the unexpected would happen, told them even. It had been an impression and now it was a fact. It had to be stretched, explored to the fullest degree. Ebbetts had to know how accurate his assessment had been. That’s vanity, thought Adrian, suddenly. O.K., so he was going to be vain.
‘Go back?’
‘Yes.’
‘But …’ Adrian paused, aware of the artificiality. ‘But why? What good will it do?’
‘My family are being persecuted.’
‘You don’t know that.’
Pavel snorted a laugh. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said. ‘You know it and I know it and everyone knows it. They’re tried, convicted and condemned.’
‘But what good will your going back achieve?’ queried Adrian. He stopped, considering, thinking beyond the need to justify himself at any later meetings with Ebbetts. Whatever happened, he was to be fired. That was inevitable. But if he managed to keep Pavel as well as Bennovitch then he would have performed a service. The noun rang in his mind, like church bells on Sunday. A service. To what or to whom? To Britain. The pomposity jarred him. It sounded like a line from one of the memoirs, one of those ‘why I did it’ accounts from a politician anxious to write his own history. ‘I did it for my country.’ It didn’t sound right without a trumpet fanfare. All right, Adrian decided, to Britain. But to himself as well. No one else would know, certainly. Miss Aimes would still despise him and so would Anita and Ebbetts and Sir William. And perhaps even Sir Jocelyn. But he wouldn’t despise himself. He would have tried and it would be something to recall with … yes, with pride and he was going to need some memory to support himself in the coming months.
‘Viktor,’ he began, slowly. ‘Now let’s think about this. When we began talking, four days ago, we established a code, an understanding if you like. I was honest with you and you respected it. And I’m being honest now, completely honest. You abandoned them. You discarded your wife and Georgi and young Valentina and you decided to come here. What good will you do by going back? It can’t save them. Nothing can, not now. Going back would be an empty gesture.’
‘I’ll be with them.’
Adrian waited, preparing the moment. God, he thought, what a shit. His new word. His new self-description. Adrian Dodds, shit.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Viktor,’—even the protest sounded false — ‘what does that mean? What good will it do? If they’re on trial, your going back won’t stop the proceedings. It will just add another person in the dock.’
Pavel began another tour of the room. ‘I’ll be with them,’ he insisted, doggedly. ‘I’ll die with them.’
Adrian’s attitude hardened.
‘Viktor, believe one thing. Believe and accept that you’ve lost whatever influence you had in the Soviet Union. The day — that day — when you walked away from the Paris show, you destroyed everything — your prestige, your importance, your ability to dictate terms. You’re lost now. You’re a traitor, a defector. To Russia you’re a “nothing” man. It’s over, Viktor. Four weeks ago, you were the most important man in Russia. Today, you’re nothing.’
‘Except a target.’
The reply surprised Adrian. ‘No one knows where you are. You’re safe.’
He gave the cue to Pavel. ‘But they’re not. I want to go back. The embassy man said if I went back, everything would be as it was before I left.’
‘Oh Viktor,’ rebuked Adrian. ‘You don’t believe that and neither do I. If you go back, you’re dead.’
‘So are they.’
‘So they are, whatever happens.’
‘But I can die with them.’
‘That’s a stupid attitude.’
‘I don’t give a fuck for your opinion of my attitude.’
Pavel used the Russian expression and Adrian thought it sounded better than English.
‘You can’t stop me,’ insisted Pavel. ‘The embassy official said if I wanted to go back, there was no way you could prevent it.’
Adrian sighed. ‘No Viktor, there isn’t. We can’t hold you against your will.’
He hesitated, then pressed on, brutally. ‘They’ll die,’ he said. ‘Valentina and Georgi and your wife. They will be tried and put into a labour camp and there they will die. It will happen whether or not you go back. Don’t be so bloody stupid. There’s only one way you can attack the Soviet Union for what they’re going to do. That is by staying here, in the West.’
‘If I go back, I’ll be killed,’ said Pavel, bluntly.
Adrian thought he was wavering.
‘Probably. Or sent to Potma for twenty years.’
Adrian had wrongly assessed the Russian’s remark.
‘So I’ll go back,’ said Pavel, ‘I’ll go back and die, with my family.’
‘Don’t be so bloody stupid,’ repeated Adrian, feeling he was losing the argument.
For a moment, Pavel looked at him. Then he said, ‘Don’t lecture me about love.’
I’m the last person to imagine I have the qualification, thought Adrian, I’m an accepted failure.
‘I wasn’t lecturing about love. I was arguing against the stupidity of it all.’
‘Love isn’t stupid,’ said Pavel.
‘No,’ agreed Adrian, ‘no, it isn’t.’
‘I’m going back,’ insisted Pavel. ‘I’m going back to die. I’m not going to tell you another thing. From this moment, our co-operation ends. I want to see the man from the embassy again.’
‘You’re stupid,’ shouted Adrian.
Pavel remained silent.
‘So everybody dies,’ said Adrian, trying for a shock effect. ‘It’s so pointless.’
‘Everything is pointless, without people you love and who love you,’ retorted Pavel.
Adrian winced at the Russian’s remark. A discussion about romance from a space scientist. He hadn’t expected that.
‘What does it prove, to die?’ asked Adrian.
‘Nothing,’ admitted Pavel, immediately. ‘But don’t be obtuse. I’m not trying to prove anything, not to you, anyway. If my family die, I’ll die with them. I’ll have proved something to myself, that’s all. I’ve a lot of people to make amends to.’
‘There’s no argument I can put up, is there,’ said Adrian, resigned.
‘No. None at all.’
For a long while, neither spoke. Then Adrian said, ‘It’s odd. I think we could have been friends.’
Pavel considered the remark. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I think we might.’
‘Others will try and persuade you to stay, after me,’ warned Adrian.
‘Tell them not to bother,’ said Pavel. ‘It won’t do any good.’
‘I’ll try. But they might not take any notice.’
The Russian came back and sat opposite. ‘Has this been a personal failure for you?’ he asked, with sudden awareness.
‘Yes,’ admitted Adrian.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It was hardly your fault.’
Suddenly Pavel extended his hand. Adrian sat for a moment, staring at the Russian. Then he took it and they shook hands.
‘Goodbye,’ said Pavel.
‘There’ll be other meetings,’ said Adrian.
‘But they’ll be different from today’s.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Adrian. ‘They’ll be different.’
‘So — goodbye.’
‘Goodbye.’
Chapter Eleven
Sir Jocelyn’s secretary handed him the cup and he smiled appreciatively, enjoying the aroma of the Earl Grey. Sir Jocelyn is making amends, he decided.
‘So you were right,’ said the Permanent Secretary.
Adrian made a dismissive gesture and sipped his tea. ‘But I don’t know why or how I was right,’ he said, modestly.
‘Could it be that there isn’t any other reason for his wanting to return, other than this fantastic feeling he has for his family?’