As if aware of those thoughts — and the doubt — Kozlov said: ‘A house in Britain, as well … something that we can choose, after the necessary appearance change.’
An afterthought recovery? wondered Charlie. He said: ‘Where do you want the plastic surgery to be carried out?’ A hospital situation provided the best opportunity for a grab.
‘We’ll arrange that later,’ avoided the Russian.
The hospital potential was certainly something he should pass on to London, determined Charlie. He said: ‘We’ll meet every one of those conditions.’
‘And the amnesty?’ reminded the Russian.
‘A positive guarantee,’ assured Charlie. He saw Kozlov had brought the car back into the centre of the city and that they were very close to his hotel. He said: is there anything else?’
Kozlov stopped the car and removed the heavy spectacles, polishing them reflectively. The Russian looked quite different without them, Charlie saw, remembering the first night’s conversation with Fredericks: but he’d used them to drive for more than an hour, so there had to be a genuine need, beyond any minimal disguise. Kozlov said: ‘I can’t think of anything. It just seems there should be more.’
‘That’s always the impression,’ said Charlie. ‘Really, once the decision is made and the agreements reached, there isn’t.’
‘You’ve brought people across before?’
‘Yes,’ said Charlie.
‘Always successfully?’
Charlie hesitated. ‘I’ve always got the subject safely across,’ he said.
Kozlov isolated the qualification at once. ‘But others have been caught? Hurt?’
‘Not often,’ said Charlie.
‘I don’t want it to happen this time,’ said Kozlov.
‘Meet Fredericks tomorrow,’ insisted Charlie.
‘Noon,’ agreed Kozlov.
‘And where’s Irena to meet me?’
Kozlov smiled at the rehearsal. ‘On a tourist bus, from the New Otani. Noon as well.’
There was a need to hurry the Russian on, before he began thinking too deeply about the arrangements. Charlie said: ‘We won’t meet any more, not until after the crossing. From now on, it must be exclusively between Irena and myself. I’ll explain everything to her tomorrow.’
‘I understand,’ said Kozlov.
‘The offer to both of you, to come with me, is still there,’ said Charlie. He knew it was a waste of time but he hoped it would further deflect the man.
‘We’ve been through that,’ said Kozlov, dismissively.
Remembering Kozlov’s own remark, Charlie said in repeated reassurance: ‘By this time tomorrow, everything will be settled.’ Kozlov looked more like a senior clerk than a killer, he thought.
‘At last!’ said Kozlov, the relief obvious.
It really did seem to be resolving itself very easily, thought Charlie: maybe too easily. He opened but held the door and said: ‘Next time we meet we’ll laugh about it.’
‘I hope so,’ said Kozlov. ‘You can walk from here?’
‘I need to think,’ answered Charlie, honestly. And hurry, he thought.
The lobby travel desk was still open and the clerk found in minutes a 6 p.m. flight from Osaka the following day, possible by catching the 3 p.m. Bullet train from Tokyo. Tight but feasible, decided Charlie, booking both. Luck seemed to be with him: he hoped it stayed that way. He guessed London wouldn’t like the idea. Be careful, the Director had insisted: so he was simply obeying orders. It was ironic, Charlie thought, that he was using Hong Kong and wasn’t going to see Harry Lu after all. Always return through the colony, he supposed: be a good way to celebrate, a few drinks with an old mate. London — or rather Harkness — wouldn’t like that either, which was tough shit. Good reason for doing it, in fact. Reward, for a job well done.
When he called Fredericks, the American said: ‘Quite the operator!’
‘You couldn’t expect to get away with it!’ said Charlie, impatiently.
‘Well?’
‘We need to meet,’ said Charlie.
‘Tomorrow,’ said Fredericks.
‘Tonight,’ insisted Charlie.
Only at the end of setting out his impressions of the meeting with Kozlov did Charlie remember the photograph of the woman. He took it from his pocket, frowning down.
Irena Kozlov looked just like an Alsatian wearing lipstick, he decided.
Olga Balan stretched up, easing the ache in her shoulders after the intense concentration, happy at last with the Kozlov report. She read it for the final time, collected all the sound and television tapes of the interviews and sealed them altogether in the package for Moscow. The supposition was overwhelming, she decided: absolutely overwhelming. She guessed Boris Filiatov would soon be filing his own back-covering report; stupid, sweaty little man.
Chapter Ten
The package freighted in the diplomatic bag was waiting at the embassy and while that night’s encoded message was being transmitted to London, Charlie examined the contents. The promised blank passport was uppermost, directly above the three comparison photographs of Kozlov under his previous name. Charlie concentrated upon them, recognizing at once that Irena wasn’t in the background of any of the reception-type pictures.
The security-cleared telephone sounded within minutes of the transmission ceasing, and this time Charlie didn’t jump.
‘Sure about Bonn?’ demanded the Director, at once.
‘Within a month of McFairlane,’ repeated Charlie. ‘Kozlov called it messy. I’d go for an obvious killing.’
‘No idea who?’
‘None,’ admitted Charlie.
‘So what’s the verdict?’ demanded Wilson. ‘Is he genuine?’
‘Everything seems to fit,’ said Charlie. So why didn’t he feel completely happy? Infantile to expect the man to present a resume stamped KGB, Charlie told himself; never been an operation yet when there weren’t uncertainties.
The Director caught the doubt. ‘But?’
‘But nothing,’ said Charlie. ‘We’ve obviously got to go for it.’
‘Sure you have to get her out this way?’
‘I think it stands the best chance,’ said Charlie, surprised the question had taken so long.
‘It leaves the woman exposed.’
‘She’s supposed to be trained: it’s not far. And Kozlov seems worried about someone in his own security section, so it’s got to be quick.’
‘What about the Americans?’
‘It’s the Americans I’m most worried about,’ admitted Charlie. ‘Kozlov expects a grab. Told me himself.’
‘Did you try to persuade him?’
‘He turned me down. Said the Americans had tried the same.’
‘Believe they’re going to try for the woman?’
‘I’d take bets,’ said Charlie. ‘That’s why I want to do it this way.’
‘They’re not going to like you,’ forecast the Director.
‘Not a lot of people do.’
‘There is something further from this end,’ said Wilson. ‘Done some deeper checks, from your original message. Bill Paul was supposed to be unaware of the finance sourcing of that magazine: it came through two cut-outs. Doesn’t look now as if he was. Indications are that he was definitely CIA-employed. The whole thing was Agency.’
‘An obvious KGB target then?’
‘Looks like it.’ Returning to his immediate concern, Wilson said: ‘Don’t you think you should allow yourself more time?’
‘The quicker the better,’ insisted Charlie. ‘There’s no reason for any delay.’
‘The group leader coming in is named Sampson,’ said the Director, ‘Anthony Sampson.’
‘When?’
‘Midnight your time,’ said Wilson. ‘Briefing is to follow your instructions.’
‘I’ll go out to the airport,’ said Charlie, the escape plan formalized in his mind.
‘Sampson’s been ten years in the service,’ said the Director. ‘A lieutenant: one of their best.’
‘Nothing should go wrong then,’ said Charlie and regretted it the moment he’d spoken.
Kozlov got to the apartment ahead of his wife, which surprised him. He stood waiting for her, gazing out of the window over the darkened harbour, smiling at the thought of all the planning and preparation at last coming successfully together. And it was going to be successful, he knew. He turned, as he heard her key in the lock, and smiled wider as she entered.