life? I could be killed when I leave here. Had that thought even occurred to you? Or is it simply that you don’t care?”
“You are being relieved of your responsibilities. That is our position. By speaking to Miss Allardyce you broke the very code on which this organization depends for its security and well-being.”
I look away from Elworthy, to Lithiby, a flash glance of anger.
“And did John think about Harry Cohen’s security and well-being when he ordered a gang of Azerbaijani thugs to beat the crap out of him?”
“Excuse me?”
Lithiby has taken a step forward.
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“I suggest that you withdraw that remark, young man,” Elworthy warns.
I do not do so.
“John had nothing whatsoever to do with what happened to Harry. That was simply an unfortunate accident.”
“Is that right? And how would you know?”
Lithiby’s face has darkened to a scowl.
“You’re out of your depth, Alec. I suggest that you do not make enemies of us.”
“I’m not interested in your suggestions,” I reply, and before I have properly thought it through, I issue them a clear-cut blackmail: “You have given me an ultimatum. Now let me give you one. If I do not receive clear indication that you have negotiated with the Americans to ensure my safety, I will send full details of JUSTIFY to a national newspaper.”
This threat, which I had only briefly contemplated on the journey from Shepherd’s Bush, does not appear to worry them. They would have expected it.
“You’d be wasting your time,” says Elworthy. “We will simply D Notice the material.”
“Then I’ll publish overseas. In France. In Australia. Fancy another Spycatcher? Don’t you think Pravda or The New York Times would be interested in a story like that? It’s news that’s fit to print, wouldn’t you say? And I’ll put everything about JUSTIFY on the Internet. Everything. You have no jurisdiction there.”
“Two things will happen if you do that,” he says, very calmly. “First, no one will believe you. Second, you will be prosecuted under the terms of the Official Secrets Act.”
“Then it’s simple,” I tell him. “You keep your end of the bargain and nothing will happen.”
“Why?” asks Caccia, whose voice seems to hide a measure of concern. “Why should we keep our end of the bargain when you have failed so completely to keep yours?”
“That’s just the way it’s got to be. And if either myself or Kate or anybody is so much as winked at by you or the CIA, I will make arrangements to have every detail of this operation made public.”
“We will have to talk to her,” Lithiby suggests.
“No. You will not. She has nothing to do with this. And if I hear that Kate has been approached by any of you, that will be enough to set things off.”
There is a knock at the door. It can only be Barbara.
“Come in,” Caccia says.
“Telephone call for you, sir,” she says to Elworthy. I didn’t hear a phone ring.
“Thank you.” He turns to Lithiby. “Will you excuse me?”
Lithiby nods and Elworthy shuffles next door. Barbara, looking at four washed-out faces, says, “It looks like a Labour landslide.”
“Really,” Lithiby murmurs. None of it makes any difference to him.
“Yes,” she says. “Lost every seat in Scotland, by the looks of things.”
“Every seat?” Sinclair exclaims, his first input since we arrived. “Christ.”
A car sounds its horn in the street outside.
“There was one other thing.”
Lithiby is talking to me.
“Yes?”
Very calmly he says, “They weren’t married.”
“Who?”
“Our American friends. Not even a couple. Thought you’d like to know.”
“What do you mean they weren’t married? How long have you known this?”
Of course. Separate bedrooms. The age difference. The lie Katharine told me about her miscarriage. All just cover.
“Not long. Two, three weeks. I was surprised you didn’t have any suspicions.”
“I did.”
“They weren’t in your reports.”
To have been lied to for so long about a thing so obvious. I am momentarily blunted, consternation draining away any control I may have had over the meeting. That was Lithiby’s deliberate intention, to throw me off guard.
“Alec?”
“Yes?”
“I said it wasn’t in any of your reports.”
From somewhere I summon the energy to challenge him.
“What does that matter now?”
Lithiby does not reply. He glances across at Sinclair, and I could swear that he was smiling.
“How did you find out about this?” I ask.
“Deep background,” Lithiby says, as if that explains everything.
“Why would they bother to pretend?”
He is interrupted by Elworthy’s coming back into the kitchen.
“Labour landslide,” Caccia says to him. “The Tories are out.”
“Is that right?” he says, his reaction muted. “Well, here’s to the tedious and predictable triumph of moderate politics.”
Caccia grins smugly.
“I have had a chance to think,” Elworthy says, turning his attention to me. “I suspect that we are all rather tired of threats and innuendo. It’s late, and I suggest we call it a day. Alec, you will hear from us in due course about the matters discussed here this evening. It only remains for me to remind you that you are still bound by the terms of the Official Secrets Act.”
“And it only remains for me to remind you that you have an obligation to protect me. Set up a meeting with the Americans, or I will make good my promise to go public with the story.”
Elworthy merely nods, knowing that his hands are tied.
“Chris will drive you back,” says Lithiby.
“Fine.” I look down at Caccia, still seated at the kitchen table, and say good-bye. He does not answer. Lithiby manages a contemptuous nod, but both Barbara and Elworthy remain silent.
Nothing else is said.
We pull up outside the flat at around 3:00 A.M. Sinclair surprises me by switching off the engine.
“Where will you go?” he asks.
It is some time before I answer, dazed, “To Scotland, I think.” The lie is pointless. They will find me wherever I go, but I do it out of spite. “A friend of mine has a place in Perthshire. He invited me up this weekend. I’ll probably stay there for a while.”
Sinclair looks ahead at the street and appears to be summoning up the courage to say something.
“I admire what you did tonight,” he says, very softly. “The way you handled yourself.”
“Thank you.”
“Didn’t let them push you around.”
“I appreciate you saying that. I really do.”
“It’s funny,” he says, laughing gently, though it appears that he has been overtaken by reflection. “I never
