Faithless (8 page)

"Yes."

"Well it's a good start. We like Russian d
iplomats who feel undervalued."

"I know. There's more."

"Oh?" said Philip. He hung up his coat.             

"He is immensely venal. He likes expensive suits and watches."

"Even better." Philip sat down and said, "So how do we get alongside him?"

"That's your job isn'
t it? I provide you with the bullets and you shoot them."

"So cocky for one so young. It's a good job I like you. Seriously, any ideas?" He cocked his head encouragingly at John.

"I read in KING that he's due to go and get measured up for a suit at Anderson & Sheppard."

"Glad he can afford it. Want a coffee by the way?"

"Well, I wasn't going to. But why not?  White, no sugar."

"Very lower middle class of you. Disappointing. I thought you'd be more fiery and Scottish and demand whisky."

John said,  "You take yours black of course."

"Of course. I only buy Arabian beans." John knew Philip was teasing. He watched while Philip poured new coffee into the filter paper of the percolator. Michael got up. "Giles and I have a meeting to go to." Giles put down the copy
of Tatler he was reading. "Yes, and then I'm going to get my bullet proof vest."

After they left Philip said, "Glad they've left. I don't know how Giles can drink this over brewed gloop. I'm sure he was brought up to better things."

Philip poured the coffee and presented John with a mug and said, "Seriously, Leonov sounds promising. Thanks for the lead. Tell me when he's due at the tailors and I'll arrange to be there. It will be a nice excuse to get an expensive suit at the Firm's expense."

John snorted.
"Our Office would never run to that."

"No, but then they are a bunch of unimaginative flatfoots."

"As yours are a bunch of over privileged cowboys."

"Touch
é, Johnnie. Ever thought of coming over to us?"

John laughed. "Implying?" He shook his head. "I'm not posh enough. Not my world."

"And this is?"

John shrugged. "It pays the mortgage."

"Indeed. If you need one of course." He sipped his coffee. "So the plan is that I'll go and bump Leonov and see if there's anything going. If so, we'll need to tighten this up and draw up an Indoctrination List."

Sunday, 22nd February, 1985:
John and Karen arrived in Hampstead and parked on a side road near the Heath.  Karen took baby Eilidh out of her car seat and handed her to John, who, with great care, placed her in the baby sling so that she hung sleepily, head lolling against his chest. Something rankled however, and she moved her head back to look at him with her blue eyes in a questioning and not wholly approving way before going back to sleep. Karen handed Morag to John while she adjusted her sling and then she gestured impatiently for the baby to be given back to her.

"I just needed some greenery. The baby mush and the jingly fluffy toys were driving me crazy."

"It's ok. I love Hampstead. Any excuse to come here."

"We can maybe go to that little caf
é in Flask Walk after we've been on the Heath?"

"Mucho dinero. We need to watch our pennies. Besides, I'd rather go to the pub."

"As if that wouldn't cost more! You're a responsible father now. Behave."

They walked onto the Heath, past the people playing volleyball and up the path into the trees. John reached out and took Karen's hand. She reached up and placed her other hand on Morag's back to steady her.

"I don't know if I can hold your hand and balance the baby," said Karen.

Morag gurgled inscrutably.

"I don't think you'll drop her."

Karen sighed. "I know. I just get anxious."

"It's natural, my dear. " He reached up and stroked her hair as they paused for a jogger to run past them.

"Don't mess up my hair."

"Tetchy."

"Sorry. Let's walk."

They set off again. When they had climbed to the top of Parliament Hill and could see the city spread out below them they gingerly sat down, steadying the babies as they lowered themselves. The babies didn't seem worried.

"Do you still love me?" said Karen suddenly.

"Of course. Don't be stupid."

"Even though I smell of sick and I have a flabby belly and we don't do sex."

"You're the mother of my children. You're my wife."

"But the sex is a problem."

"We'll work it out. When you feel ready."

"What will you do in the meantime? What about your manly urges? What if some pretty secretary flutters her eyelids at you and bends forward so you can see down her top. Women do that you
know."

"I hadn't noticed. I don't think they see me as a man - just an "officer". Besides our secretaries have signed the Official Secrets Act. They aren't allowed to show off their boobies."

Karen laughed. "I didn't know it was so restrictive." Crows flew overhead. The wind was from the east and cold. He folded his arms gently round Eilidh in her sling. She slept on.

"Oh yes. It's very restrictive."

"Are you happy? You seem to be."

"I'm liking K4. Well, the work. My boss sucks."

"I don't really like you working for them you know."

"You encouraged me to go there!"

"I know and I was wrong. I just thought you needed a job so we could start a family. I wish I'd let you drift now and become an academic or something. You shouldn't have let me persuade you."

He s
hrugged. "I didn't know what I really wanted. The James Bond thing seduced me. Frankton told me I shouldn't do it. I think I've drifted away from what I really am."

Karen said, " You love all the excitement of the cloak and dagger stuff, but you're not lik
e them.  Awful conservatives. I'm scared stiff the Tories are going to provoke the Russians into starting a war."

"Does it really worry you?" asked John, "I didn't realise."

"Since we had kids it does.  I don't want them dying in a nuclear attack. The way Reagan and his cronies talk, I think they'd carry out a first strike and think they'd win."

He put his arm round her. "There's no winning."

She was shaking. "People are scared," she said. "For God's sake, the Government's even sent out a pamphlet on how to build a nuclear shelter in your garden. As if that'll save us. If I didn't have the kids, I'd go and join the Greenham Common women and try and stop the cruise missiles."

"You'd get all dirty and become a lesbian," he smiled, "though I'm not the kind of
guy to criticise your life choices."

She said, "Did you see that film Threads about the aftermath of a nuclear strike on Britain? That's what it'll be like if we don't stop Reagan and Thatcher."

"Try not to worry about it."

"But we need to do something," s
he said. "We need to get this Government out."

I know," he said. "I hate them too. I feel the odd one out at the Office. The miner's strike  doesn't bother them but it churns me up."

"It'll hit our people hard."

John said, "These miners are all going to lo
se their jobs. The industry will close. Coal was my family's living but soon it'll be all over. You know there's still plenty of coal?"

She said, "They make out there's hardly any left and that's why it's so expensive."

He said, "Our mines and miners are expensive because we have expensive safety precautions. Chilean coal is cheap because their miners die like flies."

She smiled.  "I love you because you care about people."

"But Thatcher doesn't. At least she cares about her own people and their profits. And in the meantime the miners will get their redundancy money and then there'll be a fortnight when the housing estates are deserted because they are all go on holiday; a few weeks later there'll be lots of ice cream vans and burger vans going round like manic flies as they search for some kind of living and then a month after that you'll be able to pick up a burger van dirt cheap."

"Do you miss home?"

"I do - lots of things about it. I don't miss the cold. I'd like to die there one day."

"Morbid. Let's go and get a coffee and feed the little ones."

And they got up from the bench and walked away while crows descended to see what they'd left.

April 28th, 1985 - London:
Like many members of SIS, Philip belonged to the Traveller's Club on Pall Mall.  John had got the Tube and then walked to meet Philip outside so he could be escorted in. Philip was waiting outside smoking.

"Very discreet," said John indicating the club.

"In terms of ostentation, yes - on the outside. It's not just for spies. There are lots of proper diplomats here. It's good for having private conversations."

With a minimum of fuss and with every demonstration of good breeding from all parties concerned, they were allowed in and found a quiet table in
a quiet corner surrounded by quiet, gilt framed portraits - statesmen, explorers, industrialists, but no spies.

They ordered coffee. John took it black. Philip noticed and smiled. "Social climber."

John blushed. "Even the staff here make me feel inferior."

"It's in your head. You're no better or worse than any man here, whatever they do for a living; however much money they have; whoever their families are. You didn't strike me as the insecure type. You have a reputation for being a little cocksure."

"Really?" John was flabbergasted.

"How little you know yourself. But I think it's a good thing. That's why I don't think you're right for MI5. They prefer the more pedestrian personality. But we've spoken of this."

"Indeed. But I'm guessing you've something else to tell me?"

"Yes, I'll do a contact report but I wanted to tell you that it's promising."

"Good."

"He's an awful little prig, Leonov. I bumped him in the tailors. Makes me wonder where he gets the money.  Any ideas?"

"Well he'll have his salary."

"And c
an afford Saville Row suits on that?" Philip snorted.

"I can't think his father can be able to afford to send him money like that. Maybe he's bent?"
             

"Must be. All to the good. I wonder what he's selling and to whom? It's not to us." Philip sat back.

"Maybe he's working for the Yanks? But they would have told us surely?"

"You must be kidding. They tell us what they want. They've still not forgiven us for Philby and co. They think they're so watertight. I look forward to the day when we get the names of FBI
and CIA men turned by the KGB. I will laugh."

"Should we approach them to see what they know about Leonov?"

"Pffft. No. They wouldn't tell us if they were running him. And if they aren't I don't want them to know that we're interested in case they jump in first."

"What was Leonov like?"

"He was an arse."

John laughed. "I'm getting that. What else?"

"Well my cover was that I am a commodities broker in the City. I complimented him on his suit first. He was standing there looking at himself in the mirror."

John said, "I don't think he's gay so if we can't appeal directly to his love of money, we can possibly introduce a very pretty lady to break his heart."

"The evidence is that the only person he loves is himself. Like most narcissists he wanted to talk about himself and impress his wonderfulness on me. He told me he's a diplomat... and I fawned on him." Philip put on an unctuous voice - 'Really? That's sooo interesting... Mr??'"

"You've missed your way. You should have been on the stage."

"Don't flatter me Johnnie. You can't kid a kidder."

John shrugged. "So? What about Leonov?"

"Well I was suitably impressed about his status and very impressed that he was Russian. Because, as I told him, I have some very big investors looking to buy Russian coal. I emphasised the big.  The bottom's just fallen out of British coal production as you and he are aware. We've got to get it from somewhere. I indicated large money could be made as the British government is keen to undermine the miners. I don't think he got my pun."

John groaned. "Go on."

"But anyway, he had about as much solidarity with the lumpen proletariat as Winston Churchill. Did not give a shit about the heroic struggle of the workers."

"Cunt."

"Just so." Philip raised an eyebrow. "Churchill you mean?"

"No, Leonov. A man without principles."

"Ah," said Philip, "remember what Brecht said about all of that: how fortunate the man with none."