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‘No,’ accepted Wilson, at once. ‘Of course not.’

‘So it was the first secretary?’ said Charlie. ‘I guessed that was how it was blown. There were reports in the papers of his arrest; of the destruction of a major spy cell.’

Wilson turned, to look briefly at Harkness. ‘One of the tragedies of the whole affair,’ he said, momentarily distant. Having read the Soviet reports, as Charlie had, Wilson said, suddenly reminded, ‘You wouldn’t know, of course: it wasn’t reported there. Wainwright committed suicide, in our own embassy, after the Russians released him.’

‘Did they break him?’ demanded Charlie at once.

‘Of what he knew,’ said Wilson. ‘He was the initial control. We’d switched.’

So that’s how he’d been able to go to GUM undetected, apart from Natalia! At once came another thought. All the contacts had been blind, Wilson had said that day in jail. Which meant Wainwright hadn’t known an identity to disclose, to his questioners. So the defector was undetected, just obviously holding back until the pressure lessened. Oh God, thought Charlie: he’d got out too soon!

‘I said there was never any contact,’ he reminded the older man.

Wilson smiled, apologetically. ‘There couldn’t have been.’

Charlie slowly sat, knowing it was time to stop guessing. ‘Couldn’t have been?’ he said.

‘There never was a spy, Charlie. Never anyone for you to meet,’ said the director. He leaned forward, demandingly. ‘Tell me something,’ he said. ‘Something important. Did you manage to meet Berenkov.’

Charlie frowned, doubtfully. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Several times. And that’s why the operation wasn’t a complete failure. Berenkov arranged for me to teach at a spy school. I’ve got the complete lay-out of Balashikha: identities of staff and at least twenty agents. Training methods, too. But I don’t understand, about there never being a spy.’

‘You couldn’t Charlie,’ said Wilson, apologetic again. ‘You had to be blind, like Wainwright. I knew Wainwright would break, under interrogation. Planned for it to happen, although not for him to take his own life. And you might have got caught, although that wasn’t planned for. And if you were caught, I couldn’t take the chance of your breaking, too…’ Wilson raised his hand. ‘I know you wouldn’t have given in easily but everyone’s got their breaking point.’

‘I still don’t understand,’ protested Charlie.

Wilson arranged himself against the radiator, injured leg straight out before him. ‘You were part – a vital, additional part – of one of the most complicated operations that we’ve ever devised,’ said the man. ‘Five years ago, when I became director, I decided to hit the Russian service. Hit it and cause as much damage as I could. It was, as I say, a complicated scheme but actually one of certain simplicity. I was lucky, because some of the groundwork had already been done. Just before he was replaced as director Willoughby, whom I know you greatly admired, set up a classic disinformation operation with a brilliant and very brave operative. In Beirut he had Edwin Sampson let himself be approached and apparently suborned by the Russians…’

‘What!’ erupted Charlie.

Wilson made his hand-stopping gesture. ‘I expected you to be surprised, Charlie. Hear me out. Hear just how brilliant and brave Sampson is. I decided to build upon what Willoughby had started. It meant giving a lot away, of course, but I decided the prize was worth the investment. When the Russians were completely convinced of Sampson’s loyalty to them, they asked him to get himself transferred back here. I agreed, of course. Got him on the Soviet desk and again let him give them a lot of good, genuine stuff, to keep on convincing them. They actually made him a major, did you know that?’

Charlie nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

‘Then we got you,’ said Wilson. ‘We got you and I decided how the operation could be made doubly effective. We knew by then, of course, that Berenkov had been taken into Dzerzhinsky Square, promoted officially to deputy. I saw the way to hit the Russian service harder than I ever thought possible…’ Wilson paused, smiling his apologetic smile. ‘I had you under a microscope in jail, Charlie. I knew, from all the assessment reports and from what you did to Cuthbertson what sort of a person you were but I had to know for myself, to be sure. I knew from week to week how you refused to give in and fought back against everyone and everything and I decided it would work. From here I had the trusted Sampson tell Moscow he believed they had a spy, someone so high that I was dealing directly with him, running control. And then we had a cultural attache named Richardson put a contact note into the pocket of his colleague, Cecil Wainwright…’ Wilson hesitated again. ‘Richardson was told as much as was necessary but Wainwright had to remain blind, like I said, for it to work. Weeks before what Wainwright believed to be a genuine approach at the Bolshoi, I’d pouched to Moscow a top security code, to be used in the event of something really important. I wanted the Russians to intercept, to know that something was happening. Having got Sampson to light the fuse, we pretended to catch him. It was all timed, practically to the minute, for the moment when we knew you were getting close to breaking point. We went through the pretence of a trial, which wasn’t difficult because it was in camera, of course. Got Sampson sent to Wormwood Scrubs and put in the same cell as you and made him cultivate you, like he did…’ Wilson shook his head, in admiration. ‘Like I said, a brilliant and very brave man. Did he make you hate him?’

‘Yes,’ said Charlie. He was dry-throated and the confirmation croaked from him.

‘He had to, of course,’ said Wilson. ‘For it to work, later: for now, when you’ve come back. The Russians had to know of the loathing that existed between you, so that he wouldn’t be endangered…’

‘He shot a policeman,’ said Charlie, groping to understand. ‘He beat up one of the good prison officers and shot a copper. I saw him.’

‘Wait,’ said Wilson. ‘Hear it fully out. Despite your official assessments which were on record here and the monitor from the prison governor, I still had to satisfy myself completely about you. We could still have aborted your part in the operation, even then. The Soviets are always bloody good, about getting their people out. We knew when they made contact, initially through the newspaper and then through the radio he’d been told to get brought in. His telling you was the test, Charlie. If you hadn’t done exactly as you did, got to the governor and tried to stop it… agreed to go along, instead, then I’d have arranged a simple cell change and let Sampson go on alone.’

‘What would have happened to me?’ demanded Charlie, suddenly attentive.

This time there was no smile from Wilson. ‘If you hadn’t reported the escape plan and decided to get out, to Moscow, then you’d have been a traitor, wouldn’t you Charlie? You’d have served the rest of your sentence, with no parole, no reduction of sentence…’

‘Jesus!’ said Charlie, emptily.

‘But you’re not a traitor, Charlie. I always knew it…’ The smile came back. ‘That’s when I knew it was all going to work… stood a chance of working, at least. It was important to guarantee your return, of course. That’s why the business with the policeman was important…’

‘You allowed a policeman to be killed!’

Wilson shook his head. ‘The warder had to be beaten. It was unfortunate but necessary. You had to believe it. We planted the policeman: he was one of our people.’

‘Blanks?’ said Charlie.

Wilson nodded.

‘The Russians demanded the gun,’ remembered Charlie. ‘If they’d checked the magazine, it would have been over before it started.’

‘No,’ said Wilson, unoffended. ‘I’ve told you, Charlie. We planned everything to the last detail. Two of the shots were blanks. The first one, which appeared to bring the man down. And the second, to finish him off. The other bullets were genuine, just in case they did check. By that time the Russians had to believe the killing, as well.’