“It’s most definitely something to be raised at the next meeting of the Intelligence Committee,” acknowledged the political officer.
“If it is positively being withheld or has been destroyed against the government’s procedural rules, then there is something extremely serious to hide,” the deputy director-general, Jocelyn Hamilton, began to warn.
Before he could continue, the finance director quickly intruded, “Which means there is a very severe embarrassment. And that we can’t risk demanding explanations from Russia. So here we are again, in a full circle and back to where we began. Precisely nowhere, with nothing.”
Charlie realized he very definitely wasn’t getting the support he’d become used to, especially from Jeremy Simpson. He wondered if Dean was going to pick up on the suggestion of internal obstruction by pointing out how disastrously failure could affect the future of the entire department, but when no guidance came, Charlie decided against putting it forward himself. Instead, deciding it might be an occasion to keep his head as low as possible behind the parapet, Charlie said, “Wouldn’t we still be able to get an indication of thatby posing the question at the next combined meeting of the involved agencies?”
“Presenting yourself as our representative at Downing Street now?” goaded Williams, overeager.
“No,” rejected Charlie, at once. “Presenting myself as the field officer most directly involved and therefore most in need of positive guidance.”
“You’ve already been given all the positive guidance that should be necessary,” came in Hamilton, aggressively. “You’re surely not suggesting obstruction from us!”
Oh, to have had sufficient proof to reply as he’d like to have, thought Charlie, looking directly at Gerald Williams. He said, “Of course not. I’m simply reflecting the views of a highly experienced civil servant who found what I told him inexplicable.” Enough, Charlie determined: if the director-general wasn’t going to present the doubt outright, then Charlie certainly shouldn’t. The conclusion had to be that Dean had changed his mind.
Hamilton said, “Don’t we have another problem to consider? What are we to do about Sir Matthew Norrington’s ultimatum?”
“With just ten days of it to go, the first thing to accept, here and now, is that there’s no chance whatsoever of our being able to meet it,” suggested Williams.
“Shouldn’t we wait for the ten days to elapse before conceding it?” questioned Simpson.
“I don’t think there’s any point in wasting any more time,” said Williams. “I propose we start making contingency plans at once.”
“An excellent idea,” enthused Simpson, happy for his antipathy to show at last toward the financial director. “Let’s hear what yours are, Gerald, so that we can talk them through to get ideas of our own.”
“I’m suggesting the need for serious discussion, not offering formulated proposals.” Williams flushed. “It’s only been an hour since we’ve been told of the ultimatum.” A staged pause. “And that our part of the investigation is totally stalemated.”
“So you don’t yet have any positive ideas?” persisted the lawyer.
Williams’s redness remained at his awareness of being mocked. “Let’s hope you can find things so amusing in a few days’ time,” he said, stiffly.
“In a few days’ time we could know all about everything, wondering even why it was such a mystery at all,” said Simpson.
“At the same time as standing over there at the window, watching pigs fly over the river,” Williams came back.
“Ten days really is a very short period of time, so let’s not waste it,” said the director-general, stopping the exchange and the meeting.
In his office, immediately afterward, the director-general said, “That wasn’t very good.”
“Give me the ten days!” urged Charlie. “Make that your deadline, too, for letting me work as we’ve agreed.”
“I don’t want it to go on that long,” insisted the older man. “Before the ten days are up I want some idea, at the very least, what the hell’s going on.” Dean paused. Then he said, “You did very well last time. This time it doesn’t seem to be working out as it should. In fact, it doesn’t seem to be working out at all.”
Charlie was tempted to buy a dewy-eyed giraffe bigger than Sasha herself but remembered Natalia’s injunction not to try too hard, as well as realizing he’d have to take an additional passenger seat to get it back to Moscow. He settled for its more easily transported baby, which was still awkward hand-lugged. He bought Natalia a white and yellow gold love bracelet with a key to lock it permanently on her wrist.
Miriam Bell insisted they had a lot to talk about when he called from the hotel and Lestov said he was interested in hearing what progress Charlie’s London visit had achieved and agreed to a meeting for the following day without offering anything about the enigmatic press release that Charlie finally went through the pretense of asking about. Charlie thought he detected an uncertainty in the man’s voice, so much so he called Miriam back. She said the son-of-a-bitch had been avoiding her for the past three days, a problem the Russian had probably contracted from him. Charlie thought her suggested get-together the following day, ahead of that already agreed with the Russian, was a good idea.
Charlie didn’t call Natalia because the Interior Ministry number would be logged on his hotel bill, which had to be submitted with his expenses to Gerald Williams, determining on his way to the airport that the situation with the finance director was something thathad to be resolved although still not knowing how. After today Charlie wasn’t even sure of the confidence of the rest of the group, particularly Jocelyn Hamilton.
All or nothing, he thought again, his mind fixing on the meeting with Vitali Maksimovich Novikov.
“We still need to know what the Russians have got,” reminded Kenton Peters.
“They’re hardly going to do anything about whatever it is they think they’ve got when they dig deeper, are they?” questioned Boyce, in return.
“Don’t like frayed ends,” said the American. “But you’re quite confident now, as far as Britain is concerned?”
“Totally.”
“So we just let it all seep away into the sand?”
“Wasn’t that the intention from the beginning?”
“Not often it works out exactly right, though.”
“Kenton!” said Boyce, in London. “How many times in your very distinguished career has anything not gone exactly as you intended, from the very start?”
In Washington the American chuckled into the telephone, enjoying the flattery. “There’s always a first time. I didn’t want this-of all things! — to be it. Things got too close at times, because of that damned man Muffin.”
“But not close enough. But you’re right about Muffin. No need to dispose of him as we intended, but I think he should be put out to grass. I’ll see to it.”
“You were the one under the real pressure, James,” commiserated the other man, returning the mutual appreciation.
“But you who personally intervened when it was necessary,” said Boyce.
“Only too pleased to help,” assured Peters. “It’s been a useful exercise.”
“But not one I’m anxious to repeat too soon.”
The American laughed more positively. “I suppose we can look back on this as our own very special meltdown, like the Russians had Chernobyl?”
Boyce laughed with him. “Without any contaminating fallout. Asyou came to me last time, I thought I’d come to you to wrap it all up?”
“Make a weekend of it: we can go down to Virginia,” suggested the American.
“Wonderful. I’d like that.”
“You get a call from Charlie that he’s on his way back?”