“Turned. He was turned.”
“Not at all. Reed was a weak man.”
“It was a trap.”
“A strange trap, then. No. I wanted to understand what Reed had said to Felker or what Felker had picked up from Reed or what Felker had that was suddenly worth what he did. Yes. Something of value had been obtained.”
“How can you be certain Reed didn’t kill him or threaten him?”
“That is not a possibility, I’m afraid.”
“How can you be certain?”
“I can be certain. It is not a possibility.”
“Dammit, Pim.”
“Consider the problem I faced last night.” Pim started to pick up his glass of beer and then paused; he let his hand, a delicate hand with finely formed fingers, rest around the glass.
“Felker bolted. What was the reason? And what would follow? By bolting, Felker revealed the operation here. It was a matter of damage control — what would the Soviets think once they learned that Felker had skipped our control? They’d go after him. They’d contact their agent in place at Mildenhall. They would send investigators. They would be very thorough. And what about Reed? He could return to Moscow and lay out Felker’s defection for his masters and get back in the club. In any case, he would be transferred out of Mildenhall. The Soviets aren’t stupid. They would know we were after Reed.”
Gaunt waited. In the half-light, his drawn features made his face a skull.
“The problem of Felker could wait until I resolved the problem of the Soviet agent in place here. It was a field decision.”
“You should have consulted me.”
“I knew what you would have advised, and you would have been wrong. I didn’t have time to persuade you.”
“Dammit.”
“Felker had been your recommendation, after all. To the network. When I first proposed the scheme.”
“Felker came to our little operation from Med Section. He was recommended,” Gaunt said. The bureaucrat surfaced suddenly as a shark. “I knew nothing of him except the recommendations I received. He did good work on Malta for Med Section.”
“And what did Felker learn?” Crooned softly by Pim, his hands immobile on the table.
“You might have thought to ask the Soviet agent,” Gaunt said with sarcasm.
“Yes. I thought of that. Right away.”
Suddenly, the door to the saloon opened and an American in cheap civilian clothing and a girl who was heavy in the hips entered. The American appeared to be a little drunk. He asked for the publican in a loud voice. She was English; she spoke with the same Suffolk accent as the publican.
“Vodka, vodka on the rocks. With a twist. You got a lemon?”
“Lemon juice. Lemons are very hard to come by at this time of—”
“Yeah, yeah, you guys haven’t heard of Florida. Jenny? Whaddaya having?”
“Shandy, please, not too bitter.”
The publican ducked his head with subservience intended as a reprimand to both of them. He placed an ancient plastic ice bucket on the bar in front of the American and then served the drinks. Gaunt and Pim were silent, staring at the bar, staring at nothing. Pim’s last weary words were slowly sinking in.
Yes. I thought of that. Right away.
“I’m gonna take three ice cubes, if that’s okay,” the American said.
“Certainly. Sur.” The publican spoke without pleasantness; the veneer of servility had been stripped back to bone-chilling politeness.
“Ought to be,” the American grumbled, dropping the cubes in his drink.
“One pound twenty p then,” the publican said, and the American pulled a pile of mixed American dollars and English notes out of his pocket and handed over two soiled bills.
“And you made contact,” Gaunt said, turning back from the tableau at the bar.
“Yes. It was the only way, I saw that. I had to determine what made Felker bolt.”
“But you broke cover…”
“Of course. I made it perfectly clear to Reed that the game was up.”
“We had no scenario for that.”
Pim pulled a face at Gaunt’s use of the Americanism. “We cannot anticipate every eventuality. It was important to act quickly, in the event of Reed wanting to break as well. I got hold of Reed as soon as I was certain that Felker was really blown. Reed broke down, hadn’t known Felker was an agent.”
“Is that true?”
“No. Naturally not. We were seeking to turn Reed, Reed had some inkling of Felker’s identity. I told him as much. Reed was not an accomplished liar, in any case. I think the Soviets decided to use him because he appeared so Anglo and because he had a certain physical attraction. And inclination. For the younger men at the base.”
“Spare me the details.”
“Reed.” Pim seemed lost in reverie. “He claimed his great-grandfather was John Reed, he was half American, he claimed. Y’recall, John Reed, the journalist who recorded the Russian Revolution? Buried in the Kremlin. Great hero over there. ‘I have seen the future and it works.’”
“Pim, what are you talking about?”
“Reed. He was weak in the end. I think I mentioned that in one of the interim reports. Led to the operation in the first place. Spotted him the second week he was here, I said he was a Soviet agent, and then I was certain we could turn him. Weak. Would have been useful to us.” Spoken sadly.
“Where is Reed now?”
“Broke down completely at last and requested asylum. Of course I said we would take him in — if he cooperated. So he filled me in a bit and then a bit more. Felker took a cipher book, you see. What was the cipher? Well, it was coded out of a Graham Greene novel — what do you think of that?”
“Absurd.”
“Well, code books tend to be. Such an old-fashioned device. England Made Me.”
“What did you say?”
“The name of the book. By Greene.”
“It sounds like you and Reed had a lovely chat. Just where is he by now? Halfway to Moscow?”
Pim looked earnestly at the cadaverous figure on his left. His hands rested on the table. “You do see that this is a mutual problem, don’t you? I can’t be left here all alone in this.”
“You should have notified me right away.”
“But you sent me Felker. You told me that Felker was reliable.”
“I received Felker from Med Section with the highest recommendations.”
“Med Section is a fairy farm,” Pim snapped. “La-di-da boys, traipsing around Auntie in drag…”
“Dammit, Pim, that’s the second time tonight you’ve been offensive. I’m treated to racist jokes and now—”
“Our problem,” Pim said softly. “We can’t indulge in the luxury of mutual recriminations. Not now, I talked to Reed about the book and then about messages. Received a request from Moscow ten days ago to determine the date of the next NATO exercise, something about airlifting hospital supplies and personnel to a mock battlefield. I mean, hardly high priority, it will be in the papers before long…”
“Where is Reed?”
Pim stared at him for a moment and then rose, resting his hand on Gaunt’s sleeve. The sleeve of the raincoat was still damp beneath his touch. At the bar, the American and his girlfriend were talking softly. The American had rested his hand on the thigh of the heavy girl; she had rested her hand on his lap. She was kneading the folds of his trousers across his lap. For a moment, Gaunt stared at them. Then he felt the tug on his sleeve and rose noisily.
“Outside,” Pim said.
They pushed open the saloon bar door. The American laughed suddenly, and Gaunt thought he heard the English girl say “fags.”
The outside door slammed behind them. The wind slapped their faces. It was much colder now, much wetter. Pim led the way across the lavatory building, erected from the same sharp black stone as the public house.