“That’s part of the deal, isn’t it? Two way traffic. He can give his views on what Washington are thinking but it’ll just be his views and he’s got no access. But what we get from him is straight out of the Kremlin where he’s respected and seen as part of the inner circle or very near.”
“The big snag that has worried me is how can we guarantee that he won’t be spotted at some time by the FBI and picked up?”
“We can’t give any guarantee he won’t get collared, that’s up to him and they haven’t spotted him in over ten years. But if he does get caught then OK we step in and stop the action.”
“With what explanation? We can’t tell ’em that the President’s running his own little private espionage operation.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that stage. There’s always some bullshit story we can give them. That or threats. Jobs, heads rolling etcetera. Sufficient unto the day, my friend. Have you spoken to Malloy about taking control of the operation if it gets off the ground?”
“No. Do you think it’s time to do that? Not premature?”
“You got doubts about him?”
“No. I think he’s got everything we need. Intelligence background, patriotic, a lawyer’s analytical mind, energetic, virtually non-party political. What more could we ask for?”
“A knowledge of the Soviets? More awareness of international politics?”
“Better without that. He wouldn’t be there to evaluate. He’d just be a contact, a hand-holder, a listener.” Hancox smiled. “A high-grade nanny and delivery man.”
“Try him out, Jake. See how he responds.”
“What are you dealing with at the moment, Bill?”
“I’ve just finished the report for Defence on procurement contracts.” He grimaced. “They’re not going to like it but at least they’ll be well prepared when the Congressional Commission starts.” He paused. “And I’ve started on my investigation of the Lowden Trust.”
“How long will that take?”
“Quite a time. It’s a possible Breach of Trust matter and the assets are widely dispersed.”
“Could Julian Manton take it over, d’you think?”
“I’m sure he could.” He paused. “Has something else come up?”
“Yes, but not a legal matter. It’s our old friend Mr. X again. The friend of your old wartime colleague. The people in Washington would like to take it further. And they want you to take over the whole operation.”
“How long would it take?”
“I’ve no idea, Bill. First of all you’d have to get alongside Mr. X, but I guess your friend could see to that. Then you’ve got to analyse how best to approach the possible deal.” He shrugged. “And if you made it work it would be an on-going thing.”
“But I’m a lawyer, Jake, not a spook.”
“If you made this work you would have direct access to the President. You’d have one other very high-up contact in the White House. I would be out of it. Your friend would be out of it. Only you, the President, and the man I mentioned would know what was going on. You can imagine that if it worked you’d be far more valuable than if you were to stay as a lawyer.”
“Would I still have the firm as my base?”
“The firm would certainly be a cover if you wanted it that way. And I can say now that you’d be a senior partner no matter what the outcome. When you were not involved with the other thing you would function here to suit your availability.”
“Do you want me to do this, Jake?”
Hancox was silent for a few moments and then said, “As senior partner in this firm—no. As a patriotic American then the answer’s yes. The fact that the man right at the top wants it has to be enough for the likes of me.”
“I guess that goes for me too.”
“Good, good. Let me bring you up-to-date.”
CHAPTER 36
“Why the red light everywhere?”
“It’s what you have in a darkroom, Andrei. Photographic papers aren’t sensitive to red light. Come over here.”
When he stood beside her she said, “Watch this.”
She slid a large sheet of paper into an enamelled tray half-full of liquid and as he watched he saw the image form. It looked like the base of a column and some words which he could not make out. She held it up for a few seconds to drain off the surplus liquid then slid it into another dish. “That was the developer and this is the stop-bath and then it goes in the fixer. We can put the lights on then while it’s washing in the sink.”
He looked around the darkroom. There were two enlargers, timers, developing tanks and a cork board with hooks for scissors and small implements he couldn’t identify.
When she switched on the main lights he had to half-close his eyes to get used to the brightness. She took his hand and led him over to a work-bench on the far wall and turned to him. “These are for your room.”
She pulled aside a sheet of brown paper and he saw two large photographs, mounted and framed. The first one was of a line of limousines outside the main entrance to the Waldorf with chauffeurs and flunkies opening the doors for people in dress clothes obviously going to some important dinner. The second photograph was of a line of tired, ill-dressed people queuing at a soup kitchen. She let him look for a moment then said, “The third one is the one in the sink. Come and look at it. It’ll be the centre picture between the other two.”
As they stood at the metal sink she said, “It’s the foot of the Statue of Liberty.” He’d not seen the words before.
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to be free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.
For long moments Aarons stood there looking at the photograph and then he turned his face to look at her. “Who wrote those words?”
She smiled. “Her name was Emma Lazarus,
