By the time he entered the Foreign Office every uncertainty was perfectly resolved in Gerald Monsford’s mind, the creaking ice hardened into a solid conviction that he was unassailable. Even Straughan’s message during the return from Hertfordshire of Charlie Muffin’s reappearance hadn’t unsettled him. The man and his family were no longer of any practical use, easily discarded encumbrances.
Monsford intentionally avoided Vauxhall Cross to arrive early but wasn’t concerned, either, at finding Aubrey Smith ahead of him, alone with Geoffrey Palmer. “Congratulations upon the return of your prodigal son,” he greeted the blank-faced MI5 Director-General.
“I hope you’ve equally good news of your errant mother and offspring,” Smith mocked back, as Sir Archibald Bland came into the room to complete their quorum.
“Is the long-awaited emergence of Charlie Muffin good news?” questioned Monsford, setting the stage for his intended lead.
“That’ll have to be judged on the outcome of both extractions,” suggested Smith.
“And we’re here to examine the more immediate difficulties of Maxim Radtsic,” halted Bland, impatiently. “Which is dominating the cabinet, who want it concluded in the shortest time possible with absolutely no further problems. I’m authorized to tell you both that you are losing the confidence of this government effectively to continue in the positions you currently hold.”
For the briefest moment Geoffrey Palmer appeared as shocked as the two directors. It was the confidently prepared Gerald Monsford who recovered first. “Then it’s clearly important that on behalf of MI6 I restore that confidence.”
“That’s precisely what we expect you to do,” said Palmer, his stiffness the only indication of his anger at not being warned in advance of the cabinet secretary’s threat.
The drive back from Hertfordshire had allowed Monsford not only to formulate his proposals but mentally to rehearse their presentation, which he did flawlessly. “It will overwhelm all the Charlie Muffin embarrassment,” Monsford concluded, delivering his patronizing coup de grace to Aubrey Smith, “We can warn Russia through back channels that any retaliation will be met with public expose of their Lvov disaster.” Unable to stop himself, Monsford went on: “Which is, perhaps, some mitigation against the directorship changes you’ve indicated towards my MI5 colleague.”
“That’s an extremely convincing proposal, supported by an equally convincing argument,” cautiously acknowledged Bland, looking to the Intelligence Committee liaison for agreement.
“Providing the kidnap allegations
“My proposals also make it impossible for Moscow to impose any coercion upon France,” insisted Monsford. “They’ll be neutered.”
“I am grateful to my MI6 colleague for his concern at my professional future,” said Smith, anxious to match Monsford’s condescension. “I also want to make it clear that I am not playing devil’s advocate. But getting the accusation of kidnap withdrawn isn’t the only hurdle. There’s mollifying bruised French pride at MI6 mounting an espionage-linked operation on its sovereign soil. There’s the danger of detained MI6 officers having made incriminating admissions, too. And we don’t know what’s passed between Moscow and Paris. There is absolutely nothing to suggest that this will produce any of the speculated success.”
“None of my officers will have admitted anything, so I won’t bother addressing that canard,” dismissed Monsford, contemptuously, “Nowhere in my proposals have I discounted or minimized our difficulties. What I
None of the others spoke, each of the three waiting for one of the others to comment or commit first. Monsford, too, lapsed into quiet, self-satisfied reflection, amused at how persuasively he’d utilized so much of Charlie Muffin’s arguments to justify his personal involvement at their original Buckinghamshire discussions. He’d started out properly confident, Monsford admitted to himself, but he’d never imagined gaining such an overwhelming victory. Even the condescension he’d directed at Aubrey Smith, a finger snap, unprepared decision, had worked. He was the rule maker, the motivator: the others, Aubrey Smith their leading supplicant, had obediently to follow.
It was Sir Archibald Bland, the permanent civil servant whose influence spanned all political and diplomatic divides, who at last broke but tried too hard for cynicism. “Some diplomats might sometimes be mistaken for gangsters but very few aspire to such gunpoint blackmail.”
“I’ve put forward practical, workable proposals,” insisted Monsford, impatient at last with too many confused metaphors. “I’m looking forward to hearing alternatives.”
“I believe we’ve taken this discussion as far as we can and from which there might well be a place for the suggested diplomatic involvement,” said Palmer.
“But isn’t there something further?” questioned Monsford, reluctant to quit while he was so far ahead. “What about the resurrection of Charlie Muffin?”
“I’m curious at your describing Charlie’s reappearance as a resurrection?” quickly seized Aubrey Smith. “Do you have a reason for imagining he might have been dead?”
Monsford’s balloon didn’t burst but the air began to seep from the overinflated euphoria. “It was an inappropriate remark,” he forced himself to admit. “But I’m sure all of us are curious about what he’s been doing.”
“Charlie’s surfaced,” Smith told the other two. “I’ve heard very little, apart from discovering he’s refusing to operate with MI6, which makes me as curious as I’m sure it does all of you.”
“With which I’m more than happy to accept,” Monsford hurried in. “I’m no longer willing to risk either my officers or my service on such an irresponsible operative. I would even suggest the extraction of Charlie Muffin and his family is abandoned and all our officers withdrawn before anything else goes wrong.”
“We talked…” began Smith but Palmer talked over him.
“Are you telling us the confounded man’s still refusing specific instructions?”
“No!” denied Smith emphatically, unsure how far he could manipulate Monsford with Jane Ambersom’s limited information. “There are indications that he’s discovered a situation making it unsafe-maybe even physically dangerous-for him to be associated with the MI6 secondment.”
“I demand an explanation of that remark!” exploded Monsford, exaggerating the outrage, the fragile confidence wavering.
“Which I’m as anxious to give as you are to hear,” said Smith, enjoying the quick reversal. “But as we’re discussing your operatives I was hoping you might have some input.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” blustered the MI6 Director.
“In which case there’ll need to be the most rigorous inquiry, which I assure all of you it will get,” undertook Smith. “Perhaps we could get some early indication the three seconded, no-longer-acceptable MI6 officers will be recalled.”
“Or perhaps they should remain to prevent further disasters,” argued Monsford, panicked half thoughts refusing properly to cohere.
“You’ve changed your mind remarkably quickly,” challenged Smith, hoping the two government grandees were assessing Monsford as he was. “You began hardly able to wait to disassociate your service from mine: now you’re demanding they remain.”
“That was before your accusations started!” Monsford threw back, awkwardly.
Turning that awkwardness back upon the other man, Smith said: “What accusations! I haven’t accused anyone of anything. I merely speculated in the widest possible manner on a reason for Charlie’s curious message. And I would, in passing, strongly argue against abandoning Charlie’s mission. I believed we’d accepted Charlie will try to get his wife and child out, with or without our support.”
“Precisely the potential danger I’m warning against and why my men must stay,” blurted Monsford, to the frowned confusion of both Bland and Palmer.
Bland said: “This is spiraling into absurdity. We’ll adjourn but by tomorrow I want this sorted out, to be discussed and resolved constructively. I opened this session warning of lost government confidence. Little of what I’ve heard today has changed the sentiment. I think…” The man stopped at a summoning buzz from outside the
