Fourteen
Jan stopped, eyes wide, stunned by the presence of his brother-in-law. “Smitty! What on earth are you doing here?” Only later did he realize that his natural response had been the right one; Thurgood-Smythe was studying his reaction closely.
“A number of reasons,” the Security man said. “You’re looking fit, clear-eyed, and glowing. How about a drink to put some toxins back into your body?”
“Fine idea. But not in the bar. Air’s like treacle down here. We can drink just as well in my room — and I can crack the window a bit while you sit on the radiator.”
“All right. I have your key here, save you the trouble. Let’s go up.
There were others in the lift so they did not talk. Jan stared straight ahead and struggled to compose his thoughts. What did Thurgood-Smythe suspect? His presence here was no accident. Nor was he pretending that it was — not with Jan’s key in his possession and making no secret of the fact. But a search would mean nothing: there was nothing incriminating in his luggage. Attack was the best defense and he knew better than to pretend stupidity to his brother-in-law. As soon as the door closed behind them he spoke.
“What’s up, Smitty? And do me the favor of not pretending this is an innocent business — not with my key in your pocket. What’s Security’s interest in me?”
Thurgood-Smythe stood by the window, staring unseeingly at the white landscape. “I’ll have a whiskey if you please, neat. A large one. The problem, my dear Jan, is that I don’t believe in coincidence. My credulity is limited. And you have been too close to too many interesting things just once too often.”
“Would you mind explaining that?”
“You know as well as I do. The incident in the Red Sea, the illegal computer tap in your laboratory.”
“Means absolutely nothing. If you think I tried to drown myself for some reason you’re the one in need of an analyst, not me. Which leaves us the laboratory — with how many employees?”
“Point taken,” Thurgood-Smythe said. “Thank you.” He sipped at the whiskey. Jan opened the window a hand’s breadth and inhaled deeply of the cold air.
“Taken alone, these two incidents are meaningless. I only worry about them when I find you in the Highlands at this time. There has been a very serious incident at one of the nearby camps which means your presence here could be very suspicious.”
“I don’t see why.” Jan’s voice was cold, his face expressionless. “I ski up here two or three times, at least, every winter.”
“I know you do, which is the only reason I am talking to you like this. If I were not married to your sister this interview would be entirely different. I would have a biomonitor in my pocket which would give me a readout on your heartbeat, muscle tension, respiration, and brainwaves. With this I would know if you were lying or not.”
“Why should I lie? If you have one of these devices pull it out and look at it and see for yourself.”
Jan’s anger was real; he did not like the way the conversation was progressing.
“I don’t. I had one in my hand before I left — but I put it back in the safe. Not because I like you, Jan — which I do. That has nothing to do with it. If you were anyone else I would be interrogating you now instead of talking to you. If I did that, sooner or later Elizabeth would hear about it and that would be the end of my marriage. Her protective instincts for her little brother go far beyond reason, and I do not wish to put them to the test of choosing between you or me. I have the uneasy sensation that it would probably be you.
“Smitty, for heaven’s sake — what is this all about?”
“Let me finish first. Before I tell you what is happening I want to make it absolutely clear what is going to happen. I’m going home to Elizabeth and tell her that you have been put under surveillance by a different department of Security. This is true. I will also tell her that I can do nothing to prevent it — which is also true. What will happen in the future will depend upon what you do in the future. Up until now, until this moment, you are in the clear. Do you understand that?”
Jan nodded slowly. “Thanks, Smitty. You’re putting yourself out on a limb for me, aren’t you? I imagine your telling me about the surveillance is a dangerous thing for you to do?”
“It is. And I would appreciate the return of the favor by your discovering some aspect of the surveillance, then telephoning me and complaining about it.”
“Will do. As soon as I get home. Now if you will tell me what I’m supposed to have done…”
“Not done — what you could have done.” There was no warmth now in Thurgood-Smythe’s voice, no give in his manner. This was the professional Security man that Jan had never seen before. “An Italian seaman escaped from a work camp up here. An item normally of little interest. But two things make it important. His escape was aided from the outside — and a number of guards were killed. Soon after this happened we had a report from the Italian authorities. The man does not exist.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Does not exist in their records. His documentation was forged, very professionally. Which means he is the citizen of another country, a foreign agent.”
“He could be Italian.”
“Possibly. But for other reasons I doubt that strongly.”
“If not Italian — then what country?”
“I thought you might be able to tell me.” His voice was quiet, soft as silk.
“How would I know?”
“You could have helped him escape, guided him through the forest, have him hiding out there right now.”
This was so close to what he had planned that Jan felt the short hairs stirring on his neck. “I could — if you say so. But I didn’t. I’ll get out my map and show you where I’ve been. Then you tell me if I was near your mysterious escapee.
Thurgood-Smythe dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand.” No maps. If you are lying or telling me the truth — there will be no evidence there.”
“Why on earth should another country spy on us? I thought this was a world at peace.
“There is no such thing as peace — just modified forms of warfare.”
“That’s a rather cynical statement.”
“Mine’s a rather cynical profession.”
Jan filled both glasses again and sat on the window ledge. Thurgood-Smythe retreated as far from the cold blast as he could.
“I don’t think I like the things that you are telling me,” Jan said. “All this murder and prisoners and surveillance machines. Does this kind of thing happen often? Why don’t we hear about it?”
“You don’t hear about it, dear brother, because you are not meant to hear about it. The world is a very nasty place and there is no cause to bother people with the sordid details.”
“You’re telling me that important events in the world are kept secret from people?”
“I’m telling you just that. And if you have never suspected it, then you are a bigger fool than I took you to be. People of your class prefer not to know, to let people like me take care of the dirty work for you. And look down upon us for it.”
“That’s not true, Smitty…”
“Isn’t it?” There was a cutting edge to his voice. “What was it you just called me? Smitty? Did you ever call Ricardo de Torres — Ricky?”
Jan started to answer, but could not. It was true. Thurgood-Smythe was descended from generations of drab civil servants; Ricardo de Torres from titled, landed gentry. For long seconds Jan felt impaled on that look of cold hatred; then his brother-in-law turned away.
“How did you find me up here?” Jan asked, trying to change the subject.