Albatross (25 page)

Humphrey said sharply, ‘You didn't take it, I hope?'

The boy looked awkward. ‘Well I did, starting tomorrow. I can't sponge off you much longer.'

Humphrey said firmly, ‘Don't be ridiculous. Twenty pounds a week wouldn't feed you, let alone anything else. It's slave labour, that's all. Besides, if you worked in the evenings, we'd never see each other.'

Ronnie glanced up at him; he looked shy. ‘No, we wouldn't. I did think about that. What shall I do about it, then?'

Humphrey finished his sherry. Ronnie was on his feet at once to get him a refill. ‘You go back to the exchange tomorrow,' he said, ‘and tell them that the job was quite unsuitable. And don't worry. Something will turn up so long as you keep going. And you know you're welcome to stay here as long as you like.'

He had the most infectious, guileless grin. It spread over his face and made Humphrey smile a little too. ‘You're good to me,' he said. ‘I was dreading that job. She was such an old bag, that woman.…'

‘Forget it,' Humphrey advised. ‘You don't want to work for someone like that anyway, whatever they pay you. After all,' he said it quite casually, ‘if you want pocket money while you're looking for something, I can manage that. You keep the flat tidy, see to the shopping and that sort of thing.…' He didn't look at the boy. He didn't want him to see the anxiety behind the offer. He didn't understand how he could mind so much about Ronnie getting a job and going to live somewhere else.

But he did. He didn't care if he never found work, so long as he stayed in the flat and gave him something to look forward to when he came home.

For someone so young, Ronnie showed natural tact.

‘I'd have to earn it,' he said gently. ‘I wouldn't just take money from you. I'd look after everything for you. I'll get the supper then.…' He went out to the tiny kitchen. Humphrey heard him whistling. Normally he would have winced at the silly tuneless little noise. But it was comforting. It showed that the boy was happy. A voice called through, ‘How'd you like your bangers done?'

‘Nice and brown,' Humphrey called back. He picked up the evening paper and settled down to read. He thought the warm feeling inside him was two glasses of Tio Pepe, but it wasn't. It was something new in his experience. He wasn't lonely.

They had finished their supper and Ronnie asked him if he minded having the television on. Humphrey hated television unless he watched a serious programme. He took refuge from the dreadful inanities of a family quiz game behind the newspaper, and the boy kept the sound down so as not to disturb him. It merged into a meaningless mumble and Humphrey didn't notice it. Then the telephone rang. Ronnie jumped up. ‘Shall I answer it?'

Humphrey put his paper down. ‘No,' he said after a moment. ‘I'll take it. Turn the volume down, will you?' Ronnie switched the set off.

The call was from Sir James White. It was brief. ‘I've just had a call from the duty officer. Telex from our people in Moscow. They haven't got Harrington. On the best authority, yes.'

Humphrey Grant said slowly, ‘Then who has?'

James White snapped the answer. ‘That's what we want to know. I've got my own ideas. Come back to the office at eight thirty. Kidson's coming in. We'd better have a meeting and get to grips with this at once.' The line cleared and Humphrey hung up.

The boy said, ‘Anything the matter? You look like you've had bad news –'

‘I've got to go out,' Humphrey said. ‘I won't be back till late, I think.'

‘Doesn't matter,' Ronnie said simply. ‘I'll wait up.'

John Kidson and his wife were due to have dinner with friends when the Chief's message came through. He always left a number where he could be contacted if he was not at home. He came back after taking the call, and apologized. ‘I'm terribly sorry, some silly nonsense has blown up at the office. I've got to go in.'

His hostess said, ‘Oh, poor you – don't tell me someone has invaded the Isle of Wight!'

There was a general laugh. Kidson was known to all their friends as an under-secretary at the Foreign Office. Only Charlie knew that something far from trivial summoned him back at that hour. She got up, excusing herself for a moment and came out to the hall with him. ‘What's happened?'

‘I can't talk now,' he snapped irritably. ‘I've got to go.'

‘Darling,' Charlie wasn't used to being brushed aside, ‘surely you can tell me.…'

Her husband scowled at her. ‘Ask your bloody sister –' He pushed past her and hurried out into the street.

They met in Humphrey's office. The building was opened up, the duty officer who had once complained to Kidson that nothing ever happened was told to get in touch with the Foreign Minister's deputy. The Minister was in Canada; his deputy was difficult to contact because he was en route to Edinburgh for a family wedding. The Chief expressed his impatience, and the duty officer described it afterwards as being like standing under a tap dripping vitriol.

The telex from British Intelligence in Moscow had come direct through the embassy. Harrington had been rescued by the KGB, but there had been an outside intervention en route. Harrington had vanished. There was no question about the authenticity of their information. It came via a highly placed informant in the Soviet Foreign Ministry. The man in question had deliberately leaked this information to his British counterpart. ‘Why?' Humphrey asked quickly.

‘Because there is an internal power struggle going on,' White said. ‘The hard liners headed by Rudzenko against the Chairman Zerkhov and Igor Borisov. The object of the leak is to discredit the KGB leadership. They're hoping we'll catch Harrington and make their balls-up public.'

‘This is Graham and Lomax,' Kidson broke in. ‘They've got Harrington, and she's pumping him for information about Albatross.'

James White eyed him thoughtfully. ‘That's a serious statement, John. Do you know something Humphrey and I don't?'

‘No, of course not,' Kidson answered sharply. He seemed more on edge than Humphrey. White as usual remained icy calm. ‘It's obvious, that's all. She said she was going to get Albatross, and Harrington is the one who'll help her do it!'

‘I agree.' Humphrey said it quietly. ‘Although it seems a very complicated operation. One man on his own certainly couldn't have got Harrington away from the KGB removers. That's my only doubt. There must be an organization behind it. Someone is helping them, if we're right and it is Davina and Lomax. Chief?'

‘There's a simple way to find out, before we start bringing in the Foreign Minister. Since Fuller's on his way to Edinburgh, we've got a few hours to act on our own. But not more. I've got to make this information known and that will mean a full-scale search for Harrington. I think,' he looked from Humphrey to Kidson, ‘we'd like to find him ourselves.'

‘We have to find him,' Kidson said. ‘And if I'm right, and those two have taken the law into their own hands and kept a convicted traitor in hiding, something has got to be done about them!'

‘Don't worry about that,' James White assured him. ‘Just let me have the proof. Now, what I suggest we do is this.…'

‘You told him?' Lomax said. ‘You told Walden about
him
–' he jerked his head towards the closed door. ‘For Christ's sake, Davina!' He was taut with anger.

She faced him without backing down, but her own temper and nerves were fraying. ‘I don't think you've taken in what I said,' she retorted. ‘We're being watched. You were tailed back here!'

‘According to that bloody fool who knows how to sell Tampax and soap,' Lomax exploded. ‘What does he know about staking out a place? Or following someone? The whole thing's ridiculous. Do you imagine I wouldn't have spotted it if they were after me?'

‘Well, you didn't,' she snapped at him. ‘And I believe Tony. That van was parked out here when I got back. Anyway, I've made the arrangements and I want them carried out. I'm going to tell Harrington now.'

He came and caught her by the arm. ‘Just a minute,' he said and his voice was deceptively quiet. ‘You're not giving orders to me.'

She stood still and prised his fingers away from her arm. ‘Colin,' she said. ‘You're letting personal feelings get in the way of the job. What you said on the phone proves it. He wasn't chatting me up. He was telling me that we were likely to be jumped at any moment. You're jealous and you're behaving like a fool. I'm taking Harrington out of here, and you can't stop me.' She opened the door to the sitting room and went inside.

Harrington was twitching with nerves. He chewed on his lip and twisted his hands in and out while she talked. ‘If you don't do it,' she said, ‘they'll come in here and arrest you.'

‘How long have they been watching?' he demanded. ‘Why the hell didn't you think of this and take me somewhere else?'

‘Because I thought the Chief would believe you'd got away to Russia,' she said. ‘Obviously he suspects you haven't. But he isn't sure, that's why our people are keeping a watch and haven't acted yet. But they will, Peter, and we'll all be in it. You've got to do what I tell you. I've got to trust you to go out of here and take the taxi waiting for you. You've got to trust me to know what's best.'

He started to swear under his breath. ‘Christ almighty, why didn't I stay in the Scrubs? Why did I ever let you talk me into any of this?'

‘If that's how you feel,' Davina gambled, ‘all you've got to do is walk out of here and give yourself up to the boys in the grocery van parked outside. There's the door. Nobody's going to stop you.'

It was a gamble, and she took it knowing that the watchers outside were KGB men. If he had been the old Peter Harrington of six years ago, she wouldn't have got away with the lie. He would have seen through the deception as soon as he was alone in the street, and guessed that his friends were in the waiting van. But his nerve and his judgement had suffered during those six years. He wasn't the same man who had gone into Russia with her and played the game of secrets with subtlety and skill. He was bemused and shaken and she had succeeded in panicking him. ‘There's the door bell now,' she said. ‘Make up your mind.'

She heard voices in the hall and went out quickly. Tony Walden stood there, with Lomax looming in the background. Walden wore a fawn vicuna overcoat and a broad-brimmed brown hat. His face was difficult to see at close quarters.

‘Fancy dress,' Lomax said. ‘Is that what she told you to wear?'

Walden didn't answer him. He said to Davina, ‘Will this do? You said to find something distinctive. The taxi's waiting.'

She didn't waste time. ‘Right. Give me the coat and hat. Go into the bedroom; I don't want Harrington to see you. And thanks, Tony. You've been a marvel.'

‘The key of Suite A is in the pocket,' he said as he went inside and closed the door.

Lomax came up to her. ‘Don't do this,' he said. ‘Harrington could run for it.'

‘The major's right.' Tony Walden came out of the bedroom. ‘Look, I don't care if he sees me or not. What the hell?' he shrugged. ‘I left my car here, remember – I'll go down and I'll follow that cab to the Ritz. If he tries anything, I'll stop him.'

‘How?' Colin's sarcasm was savage. ‘You're playing out of your league, Walden. Why don't you just go home to your wife and leave this to us?'

Walden looked round at him. ‘I will – when he's safely installed in the hotel and one of you comes to take over. And don't worry about the league. I learn the rules very quickly.' He went out of the front door, a figure quite different from the American type that came in. Bareheaded, wearing a dark suit – looking years older.

Davina and Lomax didn't speak; she brushed past him. She was shaking with temper, and the temper itself was fuelled by extreme nervous tension. She came to Harrington and held out the coat and hat. ‘Put these on. Go straight downstairs and get into the taxi that's parked outside the front door. Tell him to take you to the Ritz Hotel. The key of your room is in the coat pocket.'

‘The Ritz?' Harrington was struggling into the coat. He pulled on the hat and tugged the brim down. ‘The Ritz – have you gone out of your tiny bleeding mind?'

‘Get out of here!' Davina shouted at him.

He left the flat at a shuffling run and she pulled the front door closed after him. She ran to the sitting-room window and looked out, standing to the side in case she was seen. Below a man in a brown hat and a fawn coat took a few steps across the pavement and the taxi driver leaned out and opened the cab door for him. He got inside and it drove away. She didn't move, although she knew that Lomax was beside her. When Walden's blue Mercedes slid into sight following the taxi, she gave a sigh of relief and turned away from the window. There was a heavy silence between them. She lit a cigarette and sat down. Lomax poured a drink and after a pause said, ‘Do you want one?'

‘No, I had a brandy already. Why don't you go out and buy cigarettes or something and see if that van is still there?'

‘Why don't you stop telling me what to do? If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have the bastard here in the first place. I don't hear anything about that.'

‘I'm telling you,' she retorted, ‘because you're so screwed up you can't apparently think straight.' She swung round in the chair and said angrily, ‘I'm not having an affair with Tony Walden! Now will you go and see if they're still outside!'

‘If you're not,' Colin Lomax said, ‘it's not for the want of him trying. I'll go.'

She heard the front door bang and said, ‘Oh, goddamn it all,' to herself, and then looked at her watch. It would take twenty minutes to get from Marylebone to the Ritz if the traffic was bad. It shouldn't be; they ought to be there soon.