His final bag, apart from the rabbit, was five pigeons, four ducks and a hen pheasant. The last was as much as he usually allowed himself on this shoot; the population was dropping and the birds, with their lumbering flight and low ‘rate of climb, were almost too easy to bring down. This morning’s kill lay not far off; it had taken the better part of a full burst and was almost shorn in two. Like the other carcasses, it would not be moved from where it had fallen; beyond a little veal at times, he touched no meat, and that was an end of it.
He got back into the front seat and the driver started the engine. They had finished here; they were going where they always went at such times. Where they went was Vanag’s imposing Georgian mansion near Newport Pagnell. There his armourer took the machine-gun and the revolver off for cleaning, his valet helped him to change into a tunic of more conventional cut, a third servant brought him a cup of coffee and a rusk on a silver tray, and his living-in secretary went through the new Harrods’ catalogue with him. By the time he was back in the forecourt the Range Rover had disappeared and the Rolls, gleaming in black and silver, awaited him. It was bullet-proofed, but that was nothing but a pleasing anachronism in deference to his position; he no more expected to be shot at than a ceremonial sentry expects to find himself bayoneting someone. He climbed in; the driver shut the door.
By eight-twenty-eight he was entering the former town hall, now the offices of the 88th Chief Security Directorate. His first stop was the information screen, but as he had expected there was nothing there that was both new and significant, and he waved away the print-out offered him by a clerk. Next, a call to his office- secretary; nothing there either. Then he took a lift to the second floor. Two armed guards were present on the landing, armed not with bayonets and such but with automatic weapons of the very sort he eschewed in his sporting activities, carried at the ready, too. Another pair stood outside a barred double door. Vanag walked past them and down a narrow corridor to a smaller door, also guarded. Beyond this door a flight of stairs led up on to a narrow stage; he ran nimbly up the stairs and made his way to a lectern near the back. On the reading surface of this he laid a single sheet of notes. The wall behind him carried a large map of the world with the Union in red, allies in blue, unincorporated democratic republics in green and neutralised states in yellow.
He was standing in a lecture-theatre that held about a hundred and fifty people. The benches were filled with men (a few women, but mostly men) who were unshaven and tousle-headed and even dirtier than usual. Their expressions were frightened and hostile, mostly frightened. In case what hostility there was should take an active form, eight armed guards all told were stationed round the hall and actually pointing their guns at the audience. Their purpose was not to deter any kind of sudden concerted rush at Vanag by indicating that the first dozen or more to move would certainly die, but to make sure that they would all die long before they got their hands on him. He considered that such a rush was most unlikely; nevertheless, he had founded a highly successful career on the principle of always being on the safe side.
‘
Director Vanag moved his eyes along the benches before him, no doubt conscientiously doing as he had said. As he did so he began to shake with laughter, then to utter peals of it, hunching his small body and banging with his fist on the lectern. He seemed to be venting an amusement that was quite untouched by malice, like one enjoying the antics of an exceptionally gifted comedian. At least one person in the audience had heard that laughter on a different occasion:
Theodore. His present feelings were such that the behaviour of the man on the platform left them unchanged, as most things would have done.
After a not very short time Vanag elaborately pulled himself together, cleared his throat and settled his tunic into position. ‘Here is what we paper-merchants call a situation report,’ he said, consulting his notes. ‘It has been quiet everywhere for over forty-eight hours. In fact in most places it has never been anything else but quiet. Moscow: what was known among you as a change of government did not take place. Now as to England. Bristol: an explosion injured four Security personnel, one of them seriously. Sevenoaks: shots were fired at a high-ranking official and a member of his entourage was slightly wounded. Near Scotton, Yorkshire: two army vehicles were set on fire but there were no casualties. And that is all.
‘Except in this district. Since three of the five who founded Group 31 were our men, keeping abreast of subsequent developments has hardly taxed our powers to the utmost, and correspondingly we haven’t in general had more than meagre opportunities of displaying anything more than the barest competence.’ He looked up and smiled. ‘Rather dull, in fact. Nothing to push against. Well now, partly by chance, in this district something that was rather more fun became possible: a little conspiracy, using the term in its technical sense, a tiny scheme, a provocation and a deception rolled into one. A provocation is attractive because it has the effect of raising the stakes in a winning game. You’ll understand the force of that in a minute. Anyway, the deception was successful. We succeeded in passing off on you as a list of our men in your organisation what was in fact a list of your own leadership, whom some of you promptly murdered. The provocation was accepted in full.’
Until now his hearers had sat in silence, whether intent or indifferent, but now fierce murmurs arose among them. Vanag went on as before,
‘That had a sort of elegance about it, though in order to succeed it needed stupidity on your part of a quality that you slightly astonished even me by providing. Oh, if you’re wondering whether I’m telling the truth, ask yourselves why I should lie to you. What do I care what you think about anything?’
This took a moment to sink in. Then there were shouts and screams, and two figures were borne to the ground almost at once and hidden from view. At the very first move the guards had looked at Vanag, who held the palm of his hand towards them. It was not long before, at another signal, the bodies were dragged out and the prisoners driven back to their seats with some roughness, but without the use of more than an occasional gun- butt.
Vanag waited till all was quiet before shaking with laughter again, this time in silence. ‘You are an amazing lot,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Supposing that had been the conspiracy? Well, it wasn’t, but it might have been, and what then?’ He paused and seemed to consider. ‘It’s remarkable – no, of course it isn’t in the least remarkable, no more than what anybody with the merest speck of sense might have expected. But then none of you have even that. I was going to say it’s appropriate that your cover activity, that Festival, should have been as total and as miserable a failure as your true purpose. Giving back culture. What a bizarre notion. Especially since nobody had it to give in the first place. Not that some of you didn’t take it seriously. Poor Sevadjian led our fellows a devil of a dance, at the theatre till all hours, dashing off to remote spots in search of actors and so on. Able man in his way. Just no sense. Let it be said in your favour that you didn’t do as disastrously as some of the other Festivals. In the south-east, for instance, at a place called Glyndebourne, they put on an opera or a ballet or something using real wild animals, and everyone made such a row that they ran amok and killed five people. English, naturally. Unfortunate, though.
‘Well, that’s about all I have to tell you. I thought you’d like to know the position, and as I said I wanted to have a proper look at some of you.’ He pressed his lips together and twitched a couple of times. ‘I realise I’m very lucky, in that I know what to do. I have something to live by – the values and rules of the institution I’m part of and have been part of for many years. Traditions, if you like. Now some of you may argue that those rules and traditions leave a certain amount to be desired, and there may well be something in that. But for me, for us, for these guards, they’re better than nothing, which is what you’ve got. By “you” I mean not only you who are here, or you and your colleagues downstairs, but everyone in this country who isn’t part of Security: the administration, the bureaucrats and their families, all the units of supervision. The army is a bit of an exception but it hasn’t got enough to do. We have plenty to do, and we can do it well or badly; our behaviour has meaning. You, all of you, can’t do anything, from keeping a secret to washing a dish. You can’t even come up with a decent fortune-teller.’ As he said this he looked at Theodore, who caught the look. ‘By the way, I know you won’t tell anybody I made those nasty remarks about the administrators and the rest. I’m sure I can trust you. Well, if no one has any questions…
