Perhaps, though, this had been a rash decision, for the more Miles saw of Partridge, the more there was in him of the tiger beetle, Cicindelidae, a ferocious and powerful predator. Partridge had managed to turn Denniston into a weak, glandular schoolboy. It was quite a feat.
‘I suppose you have spoken of the murder, Colonel?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And have filled in what we know of the victim’s background?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Turning to the three guilty-looking men on the other side of the table, Partridge placed his hands delicately in front of him as though he were counsel for the defense in a difficult case, anxious to reassure his doomed clients.
‘This is a serious matter, gentlemen, of that there’s no question. But it’s not quite as serious as it might have been. The murdered man’s employers want everything kept quiet, or as quiet as possible under the circumstances. There were, it seems, certain visa irregularities which neither they nor we would wish to have to pursue. Moreover, they do not know that we were keeping an eye on Latchkey, which gives us a decided advantage in the matter. I can now tell you that Latchkey did not return to his room last night. He left behind all of his things, including a fairly good bottle of brandy and several new suits. Even his passport was left behind, though I think we can assume it is a forgery and that he will by now have left the country.’
Miles saw now that the switch had been very cleverly planned. The phone calls to Harrods and Jermyn Street, the purchase of a bottle of spirits and some reading matter, and even the meeting with the contact — all had been designed to make anyone think that a long surveillance was in progress, lulling the watchmen into a false sense of being in medias res. Clever, clever, clever.
‘Yes,’ Partridge was saying, ‘I’m afraid that, in soccer terminology, we’ve been caught a bit square. Their man has scooted past us to score.’ He allowed a smile to form on the palimpsest of his face, then to melt away again as if it had never existed. Nobody in the room had dared smile back. Their futures were being decided, and it was no joke. ‘We’ve got Special Branch onto the man with whom, as one of us was not quite quick enough to spot, Latchkey changed clothes. We don’t think they’ll get much from him. This was probably a strictly one-off job for him, and he’ll have nothing to fear. Likewise, Latchkey’s contact, who went back last night to his fairly substantial apartment in NW1. He’s been on our files for some time actually, though we won’t be acting against him at this time. So, gentlemen’ — Partridge gave each of them a two-second glance — ‘we’ve been bloody lucky in one respect, in that this is not going to damage our reputation or our standing with a friendly nation. In another respect, however, we’ve thoroughly botched a resolutely straightforward surveillance operation, and a man is dead as a result. There will be a full internal inquiry.’
Miles wondered how long it had taken Partridge to prepare his speech, which now ended with a reshuffling of papers. Phillips, Sinclair, and Colonel Denniston, who had been sitting bolt upright, shifted in their seats, lecture over.
‘Well,’ said Partridge, rising, ‘I’ve had my say. Let’s see what the boss has to add, shall we?’
And they followed him in near-reverential silence to the lift.
The director was, so the office gossip went, close to retirement. Certainly, as they entered his curiously small office, Miles scented a world-weariness, an old man’s smell, as though oxygen were being pumped out, leaving a vacuum.
‘Sit down, please.’
It was not that the old boy was old, not particularly, though to the likes of Phillips and Sinclair he might appear so. Responsibility always made people look older than their years, and in that respect the director looked about a hundred and twenty. He had plenty of hair, albeit of a distinguished silver and yellow coloring, and his face was relatively unwrinkled. But Miles could sense the aging process upon the man: his clothes were old and his movements were old.
He was standing, staring from his uncleaned window onto the street below. Rather than sitting down himself, Miles felt that he should be offering a chair to the elder statesman. But then he remembered the old boy’s reputation as a tenacious and quick-witted administrator, and his links with the all-powerful, and Miles sat down with as much respect as he could muster.
‘When you leave this office, gentlemen, I would like you to go and draft full reports on this matter, and I do mean full. Security will be along to see you in due course, and will cross-check everything.’ He turned from the window and examined them, seeming to photograph them with his clear blue eyes. ‘This,’ he said, ‘has been a bloody farce from start to finish. I had thought of suspending every one of you, of asking for resignations even.’ He paused, letting his words sink in. It was as if Partridge had set them up for this kill.
‘Colonel Denniston,’ he continued, ‘you have led your section efficiently for several years. It’s a pity this had to happen. There has to be a tightening-up of procedure. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Denniston was making a good showing. He had his pride, that was sure. His eyes met those of the director without blinking.
‘Good.’
Miles noticed that Jeff Phillips had gone very pale, as if he had just realized that he, too, would have to suffer the caning, and was afraid that he would not accept it with the same strength as his friends. The director’s eyes met those of Phillips and Sinclair, then came to rest on Miles.
‘If there’s anyone to blame, Flint, it’s you.’ With the slow drama of a Shakespearean actor, the old boy took his seat, placing his hands on the leather-topped desk. ‘You are to blame. You were careless, sloppy even. We don’t expect that of you, and we cannot accept it of you. Perhaps you should take a long hard look at yourself and your future here. It may be that you need a change of scenery, who knows?’
‘With respect, sir, I like the scenery here.’
‘Do you?’ whispered the director. He leaned forward confidentially, his eyes filling with a malign humor. ‘Flint, you’re a bloody fool. You should never have been in that hotel in the first place. You should have been at home with your family.’
Partridge turned to look at Miles now, as though to indicate that he was in agreement with his superior’s words. His eyes were like tunnels burrowing deep underground. You are a tiger beetle, thought Miles.
‘If it hadn’t been me, sir, it would have been someone else.’
‘And which would you have preferred?’
There was another silence while Miles, looking as though he were considering this, thought about nothing in particular.
‘That will be all,’ said the director. ‘Partridge, I’d like a word, please.’
When Partridge rose, they all did. Miles, his legs unsteady for the first few seconds, noticed the relief on Colonel Denniston’s face. Perhaps the old boy was right. Perhaps Miles did need a change, something to challenge him. He had made an error of judgment, and that very error had already jolted him part of the way back into place. Something was askew, was very wrong about this whole thing, and, with his watchman’s mind, he needed to find out — for himself this time — what it was.
Five
With two fingers, and with multiple mistakes, corrections, and additions, Miles worked on his report, wishing that the section had a word processor, and knowing that he would not, in any case, have had the guts to use it. He mentioned the visit to the Cordelia, the scene and situation there, his wish to become involved in the surveillance, and then the scene in the Doric. He mentioned his conversation with the girl, but not his speculations as to her possible involvement in the case. There were one or two things that, for the moment, he would keep to himself. After all, if there was a mole in the firm, then he would need to be more careful than he had been up till now, and certainly more careful than the poor Israeli. Although the office was stuffy, he felt himself becoming encircled by a cold, icy wasteland of his own creation. Silence was his best defense now, silence and surveillance.