‘How much longer?’ he said.
‘Longer?’
‘Sessions like these.’
‘Until we’re satisfied,’ she said.
‘About what?’ Charlie knew but he wanted to see how far she would commit herself.
‘That you’re going to be of some use to us.’
‘Thanks, for the honesty,’ said Charlie, trying to sound offended.
‘Isn’t that what we’re trying to establish between us, honesty?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ agreed Charlie.
‘Today was better,’ said Natalia. ‘Much better.’
Was she attempting to reassure him? Deciding it would sound a perfectly natural question, Charlie said, ‘What happens, when you’re finally satisfied. What will I be required to do?’
‘That’s not for me to decide,’ said Natalia. ‘Not even to be finally satisfied.’
Was six months sufficient time, to achieve what he had to achieve? He supposed he could always stay longer, if he thought there was a chance of succeeding and he was sure he’d evaded any suspicion. But how could he tell Wilson, to stop the man panicking? No way, Charlie realised. The moment he went through the embassy doors, there wasn’t any coming out again. So he had to go in with something. If he stayed out, longer than six months, then he’d have to take the chance with Wilson. They should have foreseen the possibility, rushed though the preparations had been. Another if, to go with all the others. He said, ‘Do you like it?’
She frowned up at him. ‘Like what?’
‘What you do.’
She hesitated and Charlie was sure she came near to blushing, which he found a strange response. She said, ‘Yes, I enjoy it very much. I find it challenging.’
‘Catching people out?’
‘If there’s something to catch them out upon, then yes. Is there something to catch you out upon, Charlie Muffin?’
Charlie met her look, unflinchingly. ‘Not me, love,’ he said. ‘You get what you see.’
‘I hope so,’ she said.
Charlie wondered what she meant.
‘I don’t think we should wait any longer,’ insisted Kalenin. ‘I don’t think we can afford to wait any longer. It was Sampson who actually warned us: mentioned it at the debriefing.’
‘Fedova?’ queried Berenkov.
The KGB chairman shook his head. ‘I want you to do it.’
Berenkov accepted the instructions without argument, half expecting them anyway. ‘Normal procedure?’
There was another head shake. ‘I want this settled and I want it settled quickly.’
‘Sampson was very forthcoming,’ said Berenkov. ‘If he’d known more I would have expected him to offer it.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ said Kalenin. ‘So would I.’
Chapter Fifteen
Berenkov decided against confronting Sampson at Dzerzhinsky Square. It was the headquarters and the man knew it and Berenkov had listened to all the tapes – not just the debriefing records but those from the apartment, as well – and was aware of Sampson’s arrogance. He didn’t want the man arrogant. Although he’d criticised the attitude to Kalenin, he wanted the man still anxious to prove himself, as he had been during the encounter with Comrade Fedova. So Berenkov chose the same meeting place, the peripheral road building, even utilising an office on the same floor. He was undecided about wearing uniform but in the end decided against it.
Sampson entered the office as eagerly as Berenkov remembered him from the video film, smiling hopefully, the expression growing when he saw that the interrogator had changed and that it was a man. Berenkov supposed Sampson would imagine the meeting more important: which it was, he conceded.
Berenkov made no effort at any introduction, determined to keep Sampson in the subservient role. And proceeded cautiously, as if the encounter was nothing more than a continuation of the earlier interview, actually reverting back to some of the things talked about with the woman, as if clarification were necessary. It was a worthwhile test. Sampson responded as willingly as before and there were no variations in the answers, which was important. It was a full hour before Berenkov approached the true purpose of the meeting.
‘How long were you on the Russian desk?’ he asked, suddenly.
‘About sixteen months.’
‘Precisely,’ insisted Berenkov.
‘Sixteen months and two weeks.’
‘An assistant?’
Sampson nodded. ‘There was the division director and then two of us. The other assistant had more seniority.’
‘Does that mean he had greater access than you?’
Sampson shook his head. ‘Our clearance was the same level.’
‘I’m aware of clearances and I’m aware of how things actually resolve, in working conditions,’ pressed Berenkov. ‘Did you have access to everything with which the other assistant dealt?’
‘We worked our own cases; our own people. But I definitely had access. I’ve made that clear, in the reports. I made a point of seeing what he was doing.’
‘What about the division director?’
‘Officially he was cleared higher than I was. It had to be that way: there again I got to what I could.’
‘But not everything?’
Sampson hesitated and Berenkov knew the man was wondering whether he could afford an over-commitment. ‘Of course not,’ said Sampson. ‘It was actually trying to get at something that I shouldn’t that got me put under suspicion in the end.’
Berenkov was glad the man hadn’t tried to boast stupidly. ‘Give me a percentage?’ he demanded. ‘How much stuff did you have access to? Or could you reasonably expect to have had some awareness, at least?’
There was another pause and Sampson said, ‘Eighty per cent.’
That hadn’t been a boast either, Berenkov decided. Kalenin wasn’t going to get what he expected from this meeting, he thought. Berenkov said, ‘Did you have access to the cable traffic, coming into London from the embassy in Moscow?’
‘Most of it,’ said Sampson. ‘It depended upon the classification at the point of transmission, of course.’
Berenkov saw the point and snatched for it. ‘You know all the classifications?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Sampson and Berenkov realised the man was being completely honest and was glad of it. ‘I know a lot of them.’
Berenkov pushed some paper across the desk at the other man and said, ‘Give me some. From the highest classification of which you are aware and working downwards.’
Sampson stared back at the order, the curiosity obvious. ‘Is there a point to this?’ he said.
‘It’s a debriefing,’ said Berenkov. ‘There’s a point to everything.’
Sampson was unconvinced and showed it. if I knew a purpose, maybe I could help more easily.’
‘Just the classifications,’ insisted Berenkov. He was impressed by Sampson: was sure the man was telling the truth and was even curbing the tendency to over-commitment. But this was too important to allow the slightest relaxation.