'I couldn't think of another trick, sir.' Millet gazed unhappily across the Deputy Under Secretary's desk. 'I just thought that this way offered us the chance of a positive reaction to Michael Holly's situation.'
'Another swap… ' The Deputy Under Secretary tapped his pen cap on the desk top. it's a plausible programme.'
'You told me I should not forget him.' indeed, I told you that. In fact, I said more than that. I said I'd break your neck if you ever forgot him.' •
'We're not forgetting him, if we pull the chauffeur in.'
'I'm at the FCO tonight for dinner with the Secretary of State, then I'm away for a fortnight. I've an hour and a half before I leave here, so come and see me before I go.
Meanwhile, talk to Security. I have to know their attitude before I'll take it any further.' is that quite necessary?'
'I've said what I'll do, and I've said what I want from you.
I'll be waiting to hear from you, Mr Millet.'
'Does it have your support, sir?'
'You're wasting the limited time that is available to you, Mr Millet.'
They shook hands. It was nearly dark and the paths in St James's gleamed from the yellow sodium lights and the slow drizzle of rain. Security had requested that Millet should meet the man in the park.
'Doubtfire's the name.'
'I'm Millet. We've met somewhere.'
'I'm stuck in a bloody office all day; that's why I suggested we meet here. Nothing spooky, just that I get bugger all opportunity of fresh air. I hope you don't mind… I gave you a lift back from Hammersmith a few weeks ago, after the Soviet snuffed.'
'I remember.'
'I bought a couple of buns on the way over, for the ducks.
They don't get much to eat in this weather. If you don't mind, we'll walk beside the lake.'
'I don't mind where we walk.'
At the lakeside among the ducks Doubtfire tore chunks from the buns, kneaded them into crumbs and flung these into the air above the rampage of birds.
They started to walk, and Doubtfire crumpled his bag into a ball and dropped it carefully into a wire rubbish bin.
'What can I do for you, Mr Millet?'
'You sent in today a request for a search on a Highgate chauffeur. We're quite interested. What I mean is that we're quite interested in any Soviet who's misbehaving at the moment and who is not covered by immunity.'
'Why?'
'We think we could benefit from the situation.'
'And what the hell does that mean?'
'That if a Soviet without diplomatic immunity were to receive an Official Secrets Act conviction we would benefit from it.'
'And you're asking me… '
'To pick him up, bring him in.' it was a request for information, Mr Millet, not a bloody invitation for your lot to horn in.'
'There's no need to be offensive, Mr Doubtfire.' it's interference.' it's a request for a spy to be charged and convicted on the evidence you already hold.' i'll give you some facts, Mr Millet, some facts of life.
There's no way this man will be picked up at the present time. From what we've seen of him he's a runaround, he's a nothing, too bloody small. We'll recommend no arrests until our Anglesey boy is a great deal higher up the ladder than a chauffeur contact. If we can nail someone at the top of the pecking order, then there'll be arrests
…'
'But anyone high will have immunity. That's the way they work.'
'I'll give you another fact, Mr Millet. Our concern is to prevent Soviet intelligence-gathering in the United Kingdom, simple enough brief. We don't give a hoot whether their operatives are in gaol here, or bound for home on an Aeroflot. Why do you want a man in gaol?'
'We'd like to be in the barter game.' Misery in Millet's admission.
'Who's so precious?'
'One of ours.'
'So we blow what might be interesting, what might be trivial, to bail you lot out?'
'That's the request, that you give us a body.' is your man important?'
'We want him home. He shouldn't be there.'
'Then he shouldn't have been sent.'
'That's history. And you playing a pompous shit doesn't rewrite it.'
Millet caught at Doubtfire's arm. The path around them was empty. The traffic murmured down the Mall behind the sentry line of trees.
'And he's your field man, Mr Millet?'
'Christ, and you're fast at seeing the light… I'm sorry.
He's my field man, and he shouldn't be there, and we want him home, and I have to report to the Deputy Under Secretary in twenty-five minutes, and my field man has in front of him fourteen years of Strict Regime in a Correctional Labour Colony. That's why I want a chauffeur without immunity charged and convicted.'
Doubtfire watched the water rippling around two fighting drakes. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and slowly, loudly, blew his nose, then folded it again and returned it to his trousers. The rainwater ran down his nose.
'Very eloquent, Mr Millet… I'll give you some more of the facts of life. Such a thing would be above Deputy Under Secretary and Director General level. That's a ministerial matter. If you want to involve the clowns, that's your affair.
Foreign Secretary will have to talk to Home Secretary.
That's how it will have to be.'
'We're supposed to be on the same side and fighting the same enemy, Mr Doubtfire.'
'An interesting concept – we'll just have to see if Home Office and Foreign Office agree.'
'Thanks for bugger all.'
'Not fair, Mr Millet. For someone who's cocked something rotten, I think we're being rather kind to you. I hope we can reach an agreement through the clowns. I'd hate to think of a man stuck in those camps for fourteen years with nothing to think about but the incompetence of the chappie who sent him.'
'You're a right bugger.'
'And that's better than being a failure, Mr Millet.'
They parted on the lakeside path, Millet striding fast back towards Century, Doubtfire ambling slowly in the direction of Charing Cross underground station.
Rocking with the motion of a puppet manipulated by uneven lengths of twine, the senior official of the Procurator General trailed his damaged foot along the corridor towards his superior's office. The Procurator General always worked late into the evening, and his senior official stayed close to the seat of power until the departure of the black limousine from the Ministry's courtyard. The senior official fed from the Procurator General's table, and he was not one to leave before every useful crumb had been gobbled.
He was only just in time.
'Yes?'
'I thought you would like to know, Comrade Procurator, that the men who escaped last night from ZhKh 385/3/1 have been recaptured… '
'That couldn't wait till the morning?' it was right that you should know the details at the earliest possible moment, since the escape involves State Security.'
'How is State Security involved in that crap pile?'
'One of the prisoners to break out was an Englishman, but of Soviet parentage, and serving fourteen years for
