“You heard from London today?”
“No,” said Charlie. Which he’d expected to, after Pavel’s killing.
“My people at Langley have officially approached yours-MI6, too-with an offer to help in any way we can. Let’s face it, Charlie, you need all the help you can get.”
And probably a lot of protection, Charlie thought. “I don’t like armies. People get in other people’s way and mistakes happen. I’ve never liked the phrase ‘friendly fire.’ ”
“It was Langley’s idea. I just thought you should know before being told officially.”
Charlie was disappointed Bundy didn’t lie more convincingly. “You going to show Guzov the same consideration?”
“You know as well as I do how well-and how much-we’ve worked with the Russians in the past. As you have. But that’s not the game plan this time.”
“What is the game plan this time?” Charlie echoed.
“We work through you.”
“Without telling Guzov?”
“This investigation has become too public. The FSB couldn’t risk the embarrassment of it becoming known that we’re on board too. Let’s face it: this thing is leaking faster than the
“Much faster,” accepted Charlie, at least recognizing his way out of an American involvement, even if there were an official edict from Aubrey Smith.
“That’s another good reason for the linkup. You could transfer everything to the leak-free security of our embassy here: cut that problem out of the loop.”
For linkup read takeover, thought Charlie, astonished at the unashamed hubris. “You seem to have thought it through to the end.”
“We’re offering help, Charlie.”
“I’m sure London will appreciate that as much as I’ve already told you I do.”
“I look forward to talking more tomorrow.”
“I guess we will.”
Bundy, who hadn’t bought a drink, fingered the till receipts of those that Charlie had purchased. “You need these for your expenses?”
“Be my guest,” invited Charlie.
“Remember what I said about taking care. . physical care, I mean,” said Bundy, pocketing the slips.
“I will,” promised Charlie.
It was very easy after an almost sleepless night for Charlie again to be at the embassy by seven the following morning, sitting low but alert in the back of a taxi he’d insisted draw right up to the Savoy steps. The overnight duty officer didn’t know anything more than Bundy, the previous night, nor was there any further information on the Tass slip, which Halliday had left in his original office, inscribed with his name and a lot of question marks.
To fill in the time, Charlie coordinated the advantage of his early arrival with the time difference between London and Moscow to reach the Director-General the moment the man arrived at Thames House, and sat unspeaking for thirty minutes listening to Aubrey Smith’s account of Whitehall and American embassy meetings the previous day. When Smith finished, Charlie bluntly declared: “No!”
After a moment’s surprised silence, Smith said, “Bringing in MI6-despite my personal dislike and suspicion of MI6’s Director Gerald Monsford-and the CIA are convincing arguments. We get a lot of extra manpower without risking any more from our own department. We get out of a leaking embassy, to which I’m sending Robertson back to finish the job he clearly hasn’t. And if it ends up in a disaster, which there’s every indication it will, we offload a hell of a lot of responsibility on to the Americans and our doubtful MI6 friends across the river at Vauxhall Cross.”
“It’s a bullshit argument that scarcely stands examination,” rejected Charlie. “It’s an attempted takeover of an investigation that has to remain under our control. Were you told at the American embassy that Langley wants to work unofficially, without telling the FSB?”
From the silence Charlie knew the Director-General hadn’t been. “Not in as many words.”
“Let me spell it out without any inference,” demanded Charlie. “Okay, I know Guzov will cheat on me just as I’ll cheat on him if it’s necessary or advantageous for either of us. But at the moment we are talking as fully and properly as we can expect: Harry Fish tells me the material Guzov made available hadn’t been tampered with or doctored in any way. If the Russians learn we’re letting Washington in by the back door, the slamming of the front, right in our faces, will make a noise you’ll hear all the way over there. There’s a 101 percent chance I’d be expelled, along with a diplomatic Ice Age that will take years to thaw. And Moscow will be in the position they’ve wanted to be from the beginning of this, in charge of everything, able to fudge everything and anything they want, particularly the bugging of the embassy in which there’s still an undetected informer. And Washington will lie, insist we’d asked for unofficial help on the side, and come out squeaky clean. Which is probably their intention from the beginning: my guess is that the Russians would learn about it
“You lost me about three turns back,” complained Aubrey Smith, although without any irritation.
“What reason is there for America getting involved in something that has nothing to do with them? The CIA and the American administration aren’t charities, for Christ’s sake! Try this scenario. We accept the American offer, they leak it to Moscow claiming we sought their help, which they refused. Russia gets full control, we get frozen in the new and personal Cold War, and in a matter of months a new Russian president-a new Russian president who seems to be the only item on the agenda of the American embassy here-gets sworn into office. Who do you think’s going to be invited to form a new special relationship, London or Washington?”
Almost reflectively, Smith said. “This all began with the shooting of a one-armed man in a?20 suit and cardboard shoes.”
“The First World War began with the shooting of an Austrian Archduke by a student in a?5 suit and cardboard shoes,” reminded Charlie. “It’s not the perfect analogy but it’s the closest I can think of, so it will have to do.”
“We’ve got more meetings scheduled today,” disclosed the Director-General. “I’ll raise your points.”
“I’d like to be told at once of the final decision.”
“
It was still only 8:45 when Charlie reached his compound apartment but Harry Fish was already there with his two monitoring technicians. The man said at once, “I’m glad you’re early. Knowing about the bugs in your hotel suite I held back from ringing you there.”
“Is it the accident?” anticipated Charlie, who’d put the reason for his being so early out of his mind during the confrontation with the Director-General.
“No,” said Fish, frowning.
“What?” Keep everything separately compartmented, Charlie told himself: he had to stay on top of whatever confronted him.
“Something I think could be important,” said the electronics expert, pressing the replay button on a recording machine. “This is before enhancement but with the volume at its highest. . ”
There was intermittent sound but Charlie couldn’t decided what it was or represented, although twice he thought he heard what could have been a human voice. He looked between the three other men, shaking his head.
“Now the enhancement,” announced Fish, in his conjuror’s voice.
There was still a lot of indistinguishable sound but the human voice was identifiable now. So were two outbursts of crying. Charlie positively translated from Russian “please, oh please,” followed by weeping, then “do it.” There was a burst of recognizable words-“please. . have to. . make. .”-more sobbing, noise that meant nothing, and finally the repeated click of a lost connection.
Charlie again looked questioningly to Fish. “So what is it?”
“A compilation of three calls, the first within two hours of the press conference and initially dismissed as a crank approach, someone ringing the number for no reason: there’ve been at least twelve and I’ve had every one reexamined. Which is how we picked up the other two, over following days. The noise is traffic sound, so it’s a public street telephone, always put down before we can get number traces. The timing is always the same, though: precisely ten minutes past noon and always on the first of our listed numbers. It’s a woman’s voice: I haven’t had it
