‘And Harting was left high and dry.’
‘For some time, no doubt, he had seen which way the wind was blowing. That doesn’t lessen the shock.’
‘He was still a temporary?’
‘Of course. Indeed his chances of establishment, if they ever seriously existed, were diminishing rapidly. The moment it became apparent that Rhine Army must withdraw, the writing was on the wall. For that reason alone, I felt that it would have been quite mistaken to make any permanent arrangement for him.’
‘Yes,’ said Turner, ‘I see that.’
‘It is easily argued that he was unjustly treated,’ Bradfield retorted. ‘It could equally be argued that he had a damn good run for his money.’ The conviction came through like a stain, suppress it as he might.
‘You said he handled official cash.’ Turner thought: this is what doctors do. They probe until they can diagnose.
‘Occasionally he passed on cheques for the Army. He was a postbox, that was all. A middle man. The Army drew the money, Harting handed it over and obtained a receipt. I checked his accounts regularly. The Army Auditors, as you know, are notoriously suspicious. There were no irregularities. The system was watertight.’
‘Even for Harting?’
‘That’s not what I said. Besides, he always seemed quite comfortably off. I don’t think he’s an avaricious person; I don’t have that impression.’
‘Did he live above his means?’
‘How should I know what means he has? If he lived on what he got here, I suppose he lived up to them. His house in Königswinter was quite large; certainly it was above his grade. I gather he maintained a certain standard there.’
‘I see.’
‘Last night I made a point of examining his cash drawings for the last three months preceding his departure. On Friday, after Chancery meeting, he drew seventy-one pounds and four pence.’
‘That’s a bloody odd sum.’
‘On the contrary, it’s a very logical sum. Friday was the tenth of the month. He had drawn exactly one third of his monthly entitlement of pay and allowances, less tax, insurance, stoppages for dilapidation and personal telephone calls.’ He paused. ‘That is an aspect of him which perhaps I have not emphasised: he was a very self-sufficient person.’
‘You mean he is.’
‘I have never yet caught him in a lie. Having decided to leave, he seems to have taken what was owing to him and no more.’
‘Some people would call that honourable.’
‘Not to steal? I would call that a negative achievement. He might also know, from his knowledge of the law, that an act of theft would have justified an approach to the German police.’
‘Christ,’ said Turner, watching him, ‘you won’t even give him marks for conduct.’
Miss Peate, Bradfield’s personal assistant, brought coffee. She was a middle-aged, under-decorated woman, stitched taut and full of disapproval. She seemed to know already where Turner came from, for she cast him a look of sovereign contempt. It was his shoes, he noticed to his pleasure, that she most objected to; and he thought: bloody good, that’s what shoes are for.
Bradfield continued: ‘Rhine Army withdrew at short notice and he was left without ajob. That was the nub of it.’
‘And without access to Nato military intelligence? That’s what you’re telling me.’
‘That is my hypothesis.’
‘Ah,’ said Turner, affecting enlightenment, and wrote laboriously in his notebook hypothesis as if the very word were an addition to his vocabulary.
‘On the day Rhine Army left, Harting came to see me. That was eighteen months ago, near enough.’
He fell silent, struck by his own recollection.
‘He is so trivial,’ he said at last, in a moment of quite uncharacteristic softness. ‘Can’t you understand that? So utterly lightweight.’ It seemed to surprise him still. ‘It’s easy to lose sight of now: the sheer insignificance of him.’
‘He never will be again,’ Turner said carelessly. ‘You might as well get used to it.’
‘He walked in; he looked pale, that was all; otherwise quite unchanged. He sat down in that chair over there. That is his cushion, by the way.’ He permitted himself a small, unloving smile. ‘The cushion was a territorial claim. He was the only member of the Chancery who reserved his seat.’