‘I suppose the trouble with being a visiting fireman is that you so often arrive on the scene after the fire’s gone out. Is that it?’
‘Did he come here often?’
‘The smaller Embassies hold receptions here if their drawing-rooms aren’t big enough. That was rather his mark, of course.’
Once again his tone became reticent, though the dining-room was empty. Only in the corner near the entrance, seated in their glass-walled bar, the inevitable group of foreign correspondents mimed, drank and mouthed like sea horses in solemn ritual.
‘Is all America like this?’ de Lisle enquired. ‘Or worse?’ He looked slowly round. ‘Though it does give a sense of dimension, I suppose. And optimism. That’s the trouble with Americans, isn’t it, really? All that emphasis on the future. So dangerous. It makes them destructive of the present. Much kinder to look back, I always think. I see no hope at all for the future, and it gives me a great sense of freedom. And of caring: we’re much nicer to one another in the condemned cell, aren’t we? Don’t take me too seriously, will you?’
‘If you wanted Chancery files late at night, what would you do?’
‘Dig out Meadowes.’
‘Or Bradfield?’
‘Oh, that would be really going it. Rawley has the combinations, but only as a long stop. If Meadowes goes under a bus, Rawley can still get at the papers. You really have had a morning of it, haven’t you,’ he added solicitously. ‘I can see you’re still under the ether.’
‘What would you do?’
‘Oh, I’d draw the files in the afternoon.’
‘Now; with all this working at night?’
‘If Registry’s open on a crisis schedule there’s no problem. If it’s closed, well, most of us have safes and strong-boxes, and they’re cleared for overnight storage.’
‘Harting didn’t have one.’
‘Shall we just say he from now on?’
‘So where would he work? If he drew files in the evening, classified files, and worked late: what would he do?’
‘He’d take them to his room I suppose, and hand in the files to the Chancery Guard when he left. If he’s not working in Registry. The Guard has a safe.’
‘And the Guard would sign for them?’
‘Oh Lordy, yes. We’re not that irresponsible.’
‘So I could tell from the Guard’s night book?’
‘You could.’
‘He left without saying good-night to the Guard.’
‘Oh my,’ said de Lisle, clearly very puzzled. ‘You mean he took them home?’
‘What kind of car did he have?’
‘A mini shooting-brake.’
They were both silent.
‘There’s nowhere else he might have worked, a special reading room, a strong-room on the ground floor?’
‘Nowhere,’ de Lisle said flatly. ‘Now I think you’d better have another of those things, hadn’t you, and cool the brain a little?’
He called the waiter.
‘Well, I’ve had a simply ghastly hour at the Ministry of the Interior with Ludwig Siebkron’s faceless men.’
‘What doing?’
‘Oh, mourning the poor Miss Eich. That was gruesome. It was also very odd,’ he confessed. ‘It really was very odd indeed.’ He drifted away. ‘Did you know that blood plasma came in tins? The Ministry now say that they want to store some in the Embassy canteen, just in case. It’s the most Orwellian thing I’ve ever heard; Rawley’s going to be quite furious. He thinks they’ve gone much too far already. Apparently none of us belongs to groups any more: uniblood. I suppose it makes for equality.’ He continued, ‘Rawley’s getting pretty cross about Siebkron.’
‘Why?’
‘The lengths he insists on going to, just for the sake of the poor English. All right, Karfeld is desperately anti-British and anti-Common Market. And Brussels is crucial, and British entry touches the nationalist nerve and maddens the Movement, and the Friday rally is alarming and everyone’s very much on edge. One accepts all that wholeheartedly. And nasty things happened in Hanover. But we still don’t deserve so much attention, we really don’t. First the curfew, then the bodyguards, and now these wretched motor-cars. I think we feel he’s crowding us on purpose.’ Reaching past Turner, de Lisle took the enormous menu in his slender, woman’s hand. ‘How about oysters? Isn’t that what real people eat? They have them in all seasons here. I gather they get them from Portugal or somewhere.’