For the Good of the State

But, instead of answering straight away, she reached across and twitched open the covers on what had to be his team’s side of the rugger pitch. ‘Come inside, Tom.’

He mustn’t be that easy. ‘You said he was in trouble—“big trouble”. What sort of trouble?’ He ignored the unbeatable offer, as though he hadn’t heard it. ‘Bigger trouble than Audley is—?’

‘Yes.’ This time she pretended that she was recalling what had been said to her—a mere cypher clerk suddenly briefed beyond her competence, on matters which she’d never deciphered or enciphered. “They say he’s out of favour, in Moscow. They said he was almost ready for the scrap-heap, Tom. They were surprised he’d even been let out, to talk to your Dr Audley.‘

Was that what his Dr Audley had hinted at? But he had said more than that. And she was fishing now—and she was bloody good at it.

So he could fish back, equally innocently. ‘Do they think he’s open to offers?’

Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State

‘No.’ She shook her head so quickly that a golden tendril flopped down, across the rise of one breast. ‘Colonel Sheldon said that was why he was let out—because he never would defect, he said.’

So Colonel Sheldon agreed with his old pal, David Audley. ‘So what exactly does he want with David Audley, Willy?’

‘We don’t know, exactly.’ She smoothed down his half of the pitch. ‘But they gave me three names, to tell you —to tell Dr Audley.’

Maybe not-so-good. Because, if they’d discussed the possibility of Panin’s defection in front of her, they would have talked about a lot more than that. But he must let that pass, for the time being.

‘What names, Willy?’

She took a remembering breath. ‘Zarubin, Gennadiy Ivanovich—’

She might just as,well have said Smith, Peter John, with a couple of hundred million to choose from. But maybe Audley would know better. ‘Yes?’

‘Marchuk, Leonid—Leonid—’ The rest of Marchuk, Leonid got away from her for a moment ‘—Leonid Nikitich Marchuk.’

Another bloody Peter John Smith. ‘Marchuk. Yes—?’

‘Pietruszka. Adam Pietruszka—’ she breathed out her relief at remembering the alien name ‘—Adam Pietruszka.’

Tom got up, and set himself to walk round the end of the bed. The curtains in the big window overlooking the road, through which he had seen that tell-tale sliver of light, were properly drawn now, he noted.

‘Marchuk?’ Pietruszka! ‘Pietruszka? Zarubin?’

Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State

‘Colonel Sheldon said he’d know the names.’ She spoke in a small voice, diffidently, as though she knew that her Anglo-Saxon-American accent left something to be desired when she tried to wrap it round Slavonic names.

He came back to her at last, round the last right-turn. Pietruszka!

Big smile. ‘Then I’m sure he will.’ Pietruszka, for Christ’s sake!

Pietruszka—Piotrowski—Wolski—Chmielewski—Pekala!

But if she was expecting him to react to that last name, then she was going to be disappointed. Because instead he sank into the bed, and took her into his arms, enfolding her softness even as that treacherous fragrance also enfolded him, mixed with her own unique Willy-smell, unforgettable and unforgotten, warm-and-female; and hated her and himself as he did so, in a mutual betrayal.

Pietruszka—that bloody—cowardly—murdering—Red —fucking—

bastard — treacherous — swine!

But she pushed at him—tried to push him away, almost convulsively, turning her face from him.

‘You’re so cold—God!’ She pushed at him again, turning her head quickly left and right. ‘God! I’m just crumpet now, aren’t I! I’m just a sodding freebie now!’ She stopped shaking under him, and became boneless and defenceless, staring up at him accusingly.

‘Just a freebie!’

Pietruszka! he thought, as he let himself be repulsed.

She stared at him as though she didn’t know him. And they hadn’t known him either, when he’d been taken out of the Wloclawek reservoir: his own brother had only identified him from a birth-Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State mark on the side of his chest, they had beaten him so badly—

Audley was right: blood for blood!

Everything came together in that instant, and he knew exactly where he was. And, better than that, he was at last where he wanted to be—which was more to the point!

He pulled back from her. ‘I’m sorry. You’re quite right—’ Pull back further: go sideways, away from her ‘—I think I want you more than I’ve ever wanted you… Because I need you… But if I’m cold it’s because I’m scared too, Willy.’

‘Tom…’ That great lie, which was also not a lie, weakened her and confused her ‘… I’m sorry, too.’

He sat back on his heels, in the midst of the great disordered bed.

At least they were both agreed on something. But she mustn’t know why he agreed with her. And, anyway, it wasn’t a great lie, actually, at all: he was scared, and he did need her… and only a blind idiot wouldn’t have wanted her, the way she was now.