“Did Zagorsky say anything more to you?”
“He just gave me the instructions on how to come over the Zone border and told me about my family.” The young man smiled diffidently. “He said that you were a man to be trusted.”
Shapiro stood up. “Where are your belongings?”
“I only had the papers and a little money. I expected to be caught quite quickly.”
“You say your mother was Polish, do you speak Polish?”
“It’s not bad.” He smiled. “Poles tell me it’s very old-fashioned. Out of date slang. But the orphans were mainly Poles.”
Shapiro stood looking at his son. “I’ll take you back with me to my house, and I’ll get proper documentation for you.”
“Did this message from Zagorsky make any sense to you?”
“Yes it did. Apart from anything else it means you’re under my protection now but you’re not under arrest.”
Shapiro had spoken to the Field Security captain and the arrest sheet had been torn up and Shapiro had signed for the take-over of the prisoner. Shapiro had asked for the receipt to be endorsed to establish that the prisoner had not been charged with any offence.
As they got into the car the young man said quietly, “Can I ask you what this is all about?”
Shapiro started the car as he said, “I’ll tell you later.”
Part Four
37
Sir Peter came in from the garden when he heard Shapiro’s car pull into the drive. It didn’t really fit the organisation’s protocol to be seeing Shapiro without the request coming through Morton and it was even less palatable that Shapiro had made clear that he didn’t want Hugh Morton to know about his visit. But Joe Shapiro was MI6’s longest-serving officer and Sir Peter was sure that whatever it was all about Shapiro would have good reasons for his request. He glanced in the hall mirror as he walked to the front door. Untidy but clean was his verdict.
The handshakes and greetings were warm and genuine and when they were seated he looked at Shapiro.
“You look tired, Joe. It’s time you took some leave.”
“That’s what I came to see you about. One of the things anyway.”
“You don’t need to see me about that, for heaven’s sake. Take what leave you want. When did you last have leave? Must be two years at least. Or is it more?”
“About six years, Sir Peter.” He looked towards the window on the garden and then back at his boss.
“I’m due to retire next June. I wondered if there was any chance of retiring early without my pension being reduced?”
“Of course. No problem at all. Is there some other problem, Joe? You don’t look your usual energetic self.”
“Not a problem. But there’s something I want to tell you. But I need your assurance that it will stay between you and me.”
“Is this a personal thing or work?”
“Both.”
“I don’t like open-ended promises, Joe. What’s the general area of what we are talking about?”
“Would you rather I didn’t raise the matter with you?”
“Not at all, Joe. I just don’t want to be giving promises that I’ll do or not do something without knowing what I’m committing myself to.” He paused. “I’ve known you too long not to realise that you wouldn’t be here unless you thought it was necessary.”
“It’s a matter of putting a certain part of the record straight.”
“Part of your record … ?”
“Mine and one other person’s record.”
“To that person’s disadvantage?”
“No. Just to my disadvantage.”
“Joe, I don’t want to play twenty questions. What are we talking about?”
“I did something way way back that I’ve come to regret. I put the organisation above human relationships. I wish today that I had acted differently.”
“Does anybody else know about this?”
“Only the other person concerned.”
“Is he gunning for you now?”
“No. He knew what I was doing at the time and he agreed to it. There’s no come-back of any kind. Except my conscience.”
Sir Peter looked at Shapiro’s solid, four-square face and saw the anguish in the eyes.
“OK, Joe. It’s just between you and me.”
“It’s about Phoenix. Summers.” He paused. “He’s my son.”
For several minutes Sir Peter was silent and then he said quietly, “Tell me all about it, Joe. I don’t understand yet but I understand well enough how tormented you must be. Just take your time. There’s no hurry.”
“When I was a kid in Moscow my protector was a man named Zagorsky. He was tried for treason and I thought he was dead. About nineteen forty-three or forty-four we met accidentally, in London. He was an officer at the Soviet Military Mission under an assumed name. We talked for a couple of hours that night. He didn’t know that the Bolsheviks had murdered my wife and abducted my son. He was genuinely upset about it.”
“Did you report any of this?”
“Major Johnson knew about my wife and son. No I didn’t mention our talk. He was going to leave the Mission. It wasn’t significant.”
“Carry on.”
“In nineteen forty-seven when I was at 21 AG I got a message that a line-crosser
