Charlie was as unperturbed as before, aware of how successful it had been to anger the man and juggle the interview. He wondered if Fredericks realized the importance of what he had just admitted. ‘Let’s go back to the first meeting,’ he said, quietly.
Fredericks blinked again, assembling his disarrayed thoughts, and said: ‘I said he was nondescript and he is. That time he was alongside me before I realized it and it’s happened that way since. He thanked me for coming …’
‘In English …?’
‘He speaks it very well …’ resumed Fredericks. ‘It’s an unusual theatre. It revolves in front of various stages. I’d taken a seat and was just watching the show, thinking the whole thing was some sort of dumb hoax. And then there he was, suddenly beside me. Like I told you, he thanked me for coming …’
‘Just like that? “Thank you for coming”?’
‘Yes.’
‘No!’ said Charlie.
‘What the hell do you mean, no?’
‘You said he knew your name?’
The American began feeling drained. He said: ‘“Thank you for coming, Mr Fredericks.”’
‘Mr Fredericks? Or Art Fredericks?’
‘Does it matter, for Christ’s sake!’
‘Of course it matters,’ said Charlie. ‘Mr Fredericks indicates some subservience: that he was uncertain. Art Fredericks would show that he was proving himself again. Haven’t you ever carried out any in-depth debriefings?’
Fredericks hadn’t, but wished now that he had. ‘He used my first name. He said: “Thanks for coming, Art. That is your name, isn’t it? Art Fredericks?”’
‘Exact words?’
‘Exact words.’
‘What then?’
‘I asked him what he wanted.’
‘How?’
‘This is ridiculous!’
‘How did you ask?’ persisted Charlie.
‘I said: “OK, I’ve come here: what is it all about?”.’
‘You sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure!’
‘You’d gone to an exhibition after a mystery note in a locked car, wandered about for a long time, sat down in a theatre believing you were wasting your time, and suddenly a man sits beside you and says “Thanks for coming, Art. That is your name, isn’t it? Art Fredericks?” And you didn’t ask him how he knew your name!’
‘Of course I asked him!’
‘Then?’
‘Yes!’
‘That wasn’t what you said.’
The drained feeling worsened. ‘I asked him how he knew my name and he said he knew all the names … that he knew the two who were with me that day …’
‘Did he …?’
Fredericks nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘By name?’
‘Yes.’
‘Which was?’
‘That’s not important.’
‘A sparrow you saw pissing in the next field is important. Who were they?’
‘Harry Fish and Winslow Elliott.’
Cartright was right, Charlie recognized. ‘Used them since?’
Fredericks paused. ‘They’re experts!’
‘You’re not!’ accused Charlie, wanting the man’s anger again.
‘There’ve been a lot of places to cover: five or six each time.’
Got it! thought Charlie. If Fredericks conducted the meetings and had an extra man at each, that meant a minimum of six, against him. He would have expected more. ‘You asked him again how he knew?’
‘Yes,’ said Fredericks. Maybe he’d let Elliott loose on this guy.
‘And?’
‘He said it was his job to know. Although his English was very good, like I said, I guessed from the accent he was Russian. I said what was his job and he said he was KGB …’
‘He said that!’ demanded Charlie. ‘He said KGB?’
‘Yes.’
Charlie caught the doubt again and said: ‘You sure? Absolutely sure?’
‘He used a Russian word and I said I didn’t speak Russian and he said KGB,’ recalled Fredericks.
Charlie wondered whether to prompt the other man and decided against it. ‘You can’t remember what it was?’
‘I told you, I don’t speak Russian.’
He wouldn’t give it to Fredericks, decided Charlie. The awkward bugger wasn’t giving him anything without a struggle.
‘It is important?’ asked Fredericks.
‘We’ll never know, will we?’ avoided Charlie, easily. ‘What happened then?’
‘I asked him straight away what he meant by having killed and wanting his freedom.’
‘And?’
‘He said he was Executive Action. That he’d murdered and that he wanted to stop but they wouldn’t let him, so he had to defect …’
‘Let’s stop for a moment,’ said Charlie. ‘Is that what he called it, Executive Action?’
Fredericks was cautious now. ‘Not at once,’ he conceded, immediately. ‘I asked him what department he was attached to and he said the First Chief Directorate, and then I repeated what department and he said another Russian word …’
Charlie cut across, decided he had to prompt this time.
Fredericks remained cautious, frowning. ‘That sounds like it,’ he said. ‘I can’t be sure but it sounds like it.’
‘It means secret division,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s an expression they sometimes use. What happened then?’
‘I told him again I didn’t speak Russian, so he said “Department V.” I recognized that, but to be sure I said, “Executive Action” and he said, “Yes.”’
‘Who’s he killed?’
‘He won’t say.’
‘He must have given some indication!’
‘He point-blank refused,’ insisted the American.
‘To a direct question: you asked?’ demanded Charlie.
‘Of course I damn well asked!’ said Fredericks. ‘Told me the knowledge was his value and that he’d tell us everything … victims, reasons, dates and locations, Russian rationale, everything … once he was safely across and his wife was safe, too …’
There was no way to discover if Fredericks were lying. There was a pathway he could follow, from what the American had given away so far. He said: ‘Tell me about that; it’s the reason I’m here, after all. Why this separate crossing business, with him and Irena?’
‘He’s frightened of being cheated … of being brought across, sucked dry of everything and then dumped … prosecuted even,’ said Fredericks. ‘I told him we didn’t operate that way: that we kept our word. But he said intelligence agencies were the same anywhere and that he wanted a guarantee.’
