Dominion

‘David, I’ll have to be quick. Something’s happened.’

‘What—’

‘I’m phoning from an office along the corridor. It’s empty, but someone may come in. Please listen, there isn’t time.’ She spoke urgently. ‘I’ve just left a meeting with Dabb and your boss, Mr Hubbold. There were –’ David heard her take a deep breath – ‘there were two policemen present as well. They said they were from Special Branch but one was a German. There was a document in one of the restricted files that shouldn’t have been there, it came from a file you’d been handling.’ Her voice quickened. ‘Hubbold reported it to Dabb and he was trying to blame me —’

David’s heart was beating fast. He said, ‘Was this what you wanted to talk about last night?’

‘Yes. David, please listen. The policemen, they wanted to know about our – friendship. They think I might have given you access to the secret room. I told them we were just friends, you hadn’t asked me for anything. But there was a file open on Hubbold’s desk, I saw your name. I think it’s your personnel file. I’m ringing to warn you, they might call you up.’

David forced himself to speak calmly. ‘How are Special Branch involved in this? And the German?’ He thought, this has to be because of Frank, somehow he’s led them to me.

‘I don’t know. But I had to warn you. I don’t know what’s going to happen.’ Carol’s voice faltered again. ‘Don’t tell me, if you’ve been doing something you shouldn’t, I don’t want to know—’

He said, ‘Carol, I’m sorry—’

‘Don’t tell me anything.’ Her voice was a sudden urgent hiss. ‘I can’t tell them what I don’t know. You’re a good man, David.’ She spoke in a softer tone. ‘Whatever you did would be for good motives, I know that.’ Then she said sadly, ‘You know what I’ve always felt about you. You do, don’t you? I could tell.’

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

There was a moment’s silence. Then Carol said, very quietly, ‘They won’t be able to find evidence against me, because there isn’t any. Even if you go away.’ He didn’t answer. ‘You’re going to go away, aren’t you? No, don’t answer that, don’t.’

‘Carol—’

‘You have to do what you think is right. You’re a good man, David.’ The line went dead.

He put the phone down, shocked. Then his mind clicked into the routine he had learned, what to do if there was an emergency at work, if it looked as though he had been discovered. Leave the office at once, go to a public telephone and ring a number he had memorized a long time ago. He stood abruptly. If he left, he knew, Carol would be in deeper trouble. She had loved him and he had used her and still she was trying to save him.

Sarah. She was in danger too; everyone was if they caught him. He looked at the door. Now the moment had come; Hubbold, everyone he knew in the Office, was an enemy, a potential captor. And two policemen here, one a German. He grabbed his coat and hat from behind the door, picked up his briefcase and umbrella. Rapidly, he walked the two floors down to the vestibule; he wanted to run but knew that would attract attention. As he crossed the lobby he heard Sykes, the porter, call out, urgently: ‘Mr Fitzgerald! Mr Hubbold said you were to wait.’ David didn’t stop or turn, just walked steadily to the exit. An elderly cleaner in flowered housecoat and headscarf stared at him over her mop.

‘Mr Fitzgerald!’ Sykes was shouting now. ‘Please, wait!’

He went through the doors, down the steps to the street, then ran all the way down Whitehall.

He found a telephone box on the corner of Trafalgar Square. It smelt of urine. He found some pennies in his pocket and dialled the number he had memorized. He stood, waiting to press Button A. The phone rang and rang but nobody answered.

He felt panic clawing at him. Had the police already got the people on the other end, was this part of a general sweep? It couldn’t be, surely, or they would just have come and taken him, not involved Hubbold and Dabb first. The number cut out suddenly. He dialled again. He was holding the heavy black receiver so tightly his hand hurt. Again nobody answered. He slammed the phone down and stood staring through the dirty windows of the telephone box at the people walking by in the grey morning, the dirty pigeons fluttering round the foot of Nelson’s Column. Absurdly, he felt afraid to leave the box, as though it were some sort of refuge. Then he thought, I have to get to Sarah. They’ll know where I live, they’ll go there, but I have to try. That was against orders but something must have happened; he was on his own now. He dialled his home number. He remembered the daily woman did not come on Fridays; Sarah would be alone. He would tell her to leave at once and meet him in town. Again, though, the number just rang and rang. At the thought she might have already been arrested his legs trembled and David had to lean against the cold, damp wall of the box. He told himself she could just have gone to the shops, she usually did once a day. He had to go to her. He knew it could be dangerous, there could be police watching the house, but he had to. He dialled the number again but there was still no reply. He pressed Button B to get his pennies back – he might need them – and stepped out of the telephone box. He noticed for the first time how cold it was. He walked towards the tube station, only feeling relief when he disappeared into the anonymity of the Underground.

Although he took the tube to work every day, it was years since he had used it in the middle of a weekday. The last time had been when Charlie died. That had been wintertime too; it had snowed heavily and the trains had been delayed. He had felt sick on the journey and when he got home he had slipped on the path and fallen and then somehow he couldn’t get up, his limbs wouldn’t move. Sarah had seen him and come to help him, letting go of Charlie’s body at last.

Someone had left a copy of The Times on a neighbouring seat. He picked it up. On the front page was a report of a meeting between Himmler and his East European allies, a picture of him with the leaders of Slovakia, Romania, Croatia, Bulgaria. One of the leaders was a large fat man with a slab of a face and a downturned mouth, wearing a clerical collar. That must be Tiso, the Slovak Prime Minister Natalia had told him about. Natalia, who attracted him. Carol, who stirred nothing in him. Sarah, his wife. What would happen to them all now? He put his head in his hands. Don’t think, he told himself. Try to stay cold and clear. He looked down at the briefcase between his legs. He had picked it up by instinct. He would probably never use it again, never see the Office again, never again be part of an ordinary crowd of bowler-hatted commuters.

He got out at Kenton Station. Walking home he looked around for anything unusual, fearing the sound of quickening footsteps coming behind him, tensed, ready to run. He remembered his father saying once, after a big criminal trial, that he could never understand why anyone took to a life of crime, living in constant fear of a policeman’s hand on their shoulder. Now David understood: he was a criminal himself.

The house, the whole street, was quiet in the winter morning. He let himself in carefully, leaving the front door ajar in case the police were here and he had to turn and run. But the house was silent, the only sound the clock ticking steadily in the kitchen. Had Sarah been in she would have heard him and come out, but she didn’t. David walked from room to room, frightened of what he might see each time he opened a door, but the house was neat and still. He noticed that the telephone book had been taken out of its basket and lay on the telephone table, beside his mother’s vase. He closed the front door and sat in the lounge, waiting for Sarah to return, watching the street from the window. He thought, this is crazy, the police could come at any time. But he couldn’t leave Sarah, not now. It was utterly quiet in the house. He thought, this is what it must be like for Sarah all the time when she’s at home alone; silence, and the memory of Charlie. If she had gone to the shops she should be back in half an hour at most. He opened the back door, then returned to the lounge; if he saw anyone coming in at the gate he would run out the back, try getting over the fence. Or would it be best to let them take him? Would that stop them being interested in Sarah? But what about the others in his cell, Geoff and Jackson and Natalia and the man from the India Office? He didn’t think he could hold out if they tortured him.

Half an hour passed. He had been pacing the room impatiently and now he went into the hall and dialled Irene’s number. She answered almost at once. He tried to make his voice casual. ‘It’s David here. I’ve had to come home, I’m not very well. Sarah isn’t here. Any idea where she might be?’

‘Goodness,’ Irene said. ‘Is it something serious? Can I help at all?’

‘A bad stomach, I’ve been sick. I’m just a bit puzzled Sarah isn’t home.’

‘I’m sorry, David, I’ve no idea where she is. She hasn’t got one of her meetings, has she?’

‘No. Not today.’

He ended the call and stood irresolutely in the hall. He thought of ringing the contact number again but he