to have a summer chalet on the shores of Thingval avatn, even more
prized because the building restrictions have forbidden new construction
and so the price has shot up. Owning a chalet on Thingval avatn is the
Icelandic equivalent of having a Rembrandt on the wal .
I pulled up outside the house, and Kennikin said, ‘Blow the horn.’
I tooted and someone came out. Kennikin put the pistol to my head.
‘Careful, Alan,’ he said. ‘Be very careful.’
He also was very careful. I was taken inside without the faintest
possibility of making a break. The room was decorated in that
generalized style known as Swedish Modern; when done in England it looks
bleak and a little phoney but when done by the Scandinavians it looks
natural and good. There was an open fire burning which was something of
a surprise. Iceland has no coal and no trees to make log fires, and an
open blaze is something of a rarity; a lot of the houses are heated by
natural hot water, and those that aren’t have oil-fired central heating.
This fire was of peat which glowed redly with smal flickering blue flames.
Kennikin jerked his gun. ‘Sit by the fire, Alan; make yourself warm. But
first Ilyich wil search you.’
Ilyich was a squarely-built man with a broad, flat face. There was
something Asiatic about his eyes which made me think that at least one
of his parents hailed from the farther side of the Urals. He patted me
thoroughly, then turned to Kennikin and shook his head.
‘No gun?’ said Kennikin. ‘That was wise of you.’ He smiled pleasantly at
Ilyich, then turned to me and said, ‘You see what I mean, Alan? I am
surrounded by idiots. Draw up the left leg of your trousers and show
Ilyich your pretty little knife.’
I obeyed, and Ilyich blinked at it in astonishment while Kennikin reamed
him out. Russian is even richer than English in cutting invective. The
/sgian dubh/ was confiscated and Kennikin waved me to the seat while
Ilyich, red-faced, moved behind me.
Kennikin put away his gun. ‘Now, what wil you have to drink, Alan Stewart?’
‘Scotch – if you have it.’
‘We have it.’ He opened a cupboard near the fireplace and poured a
drink. ‘Wil you have it neat or with water? I regret we have no soda.’
‘Water wil do,’ I said. ‘Make it a weak one.’
He smiled. ‘Oh, yes; you have to keep a clear head,’ he said
sardonical y. ‘Section four, Rule thirty-five; when offered a drink by
the opposition request a weak one.’ He splashed water into the glass
then brought it to me. ‘I hope that is to your satisfaction.’
I sipped it cautiously, then nodded. If it had been any weaker it
wouldn’t have been able to crawl out of the glass and past my lips. He
returned to the cupboard and poured himself a tumbler-ful of Icelandic
/brennivin/ and knocked back half the contents with one gulp. I watched
with some astonishment as he swal owed the raw spirit without twitching
a hair. Kennikin was going downhil fast if he now did his drinking
openly. I was surprised the Department hadn’t caught on to it.
I said, ‘Can’t you get Calvados here in Iceland, Vaslav?’
He grinned and held up his glass. ‘This is my first drink ‘in four
years, Alan. I’m celebrating.’ He sat in the chair opposite me. ‘I have
reason to celebrate ? it’s not often that old friends meet in our
profession. Is the Department treating you wel ?’
I sipped the watery Scotch and set the glass on the low table next to my
chair. ‘I haven’t been with the Department for four years.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘My information is different.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But it’s wrong. I quit when I left Sweden.’
‘I also quit,’ said Kennikin. ‘This is my first assignment in four
years. I have you to thank for many things.’ His voice was slow and
even. ‘I didn’t quit of my own volition, Alan; I was sent to sort papers
in Ashkhabad. Do you know where that is?’
‘Turkmenistan.’
‘Yes.’ He thumped his chest. ‘Me – Vaslav Viktorovich Kennikin – sent to
comb the border for narcotics smugglers and to shuffle at a desk.’
‘Thus are the mighty fallen,’ I said. ‘So they dug you up for this
operation. That must have pleased you.’
He stretched out his legs. ‘Oh, it did. I was very pleased when I
discovered you were here. You see, at one time I thought you were my
friend.’ His voice rose slightly. ‘You were as close to me as my own
brother.’
‘Don’t be sil y,’ I said. ‘Don’t you know intel igence agents have no
friends?’ I remembered Jack Case and thought bitterly that I was
learning the lesson the hard way, just as Kennikin had.
He went on as though I had not spoken. ‘Closer to me than my brother. I
would have put my life in your hands – I /did/ put my life in your
hands.’ He stared into the colourless liquid in his glass. ‘And you sold
me out.’ Abruptly he lifted the glass and drained it.
I said derisively, ‘Come off it, Vaslav; you’d have done the same in my
position.’
He stared at me. ‘But I trusted you,’ he said almost plaintively. ‘That
is what hurt most.’ He stood up and walked to the cupboard. Over his
shoulder he said, ‘You know what my people are like. Mistakes aren’t
condoned. And so . . .’ He shrugged ‘. . .the desk in Ashkhabad. They
wasted me.’ His voice was harsh.
‘It could have been worse,’ I said. ‘It could have been Siberia.
Khatanga, for instance.’
When he returned to his chair the tumbler was ful again. ‘It very
nearly was,’ he said in a low voice. ‘But my friends helped – my true
Russian friends.’ With an effort he pulled himself back to the present.
‘But we waste time. You have a certain piece of electronic equipment
which is wrongful y in your possession. Where is it?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
He nodded. ‘Of course, you would have to say that; I expected nothing
else. But you must realize that you wil give it to me eventual y.’ He
took a cigarette case from his pocket. ‘Wel ?’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘I know I’ve got it, and you know I’ve got it;
there’s no point in beating around the bush. We know each other too wel
for that, Vaslav. But you’re not going to get it.’
He took a long Russian cigarette from the case. ‘I think I wil , Alan; I
/know/ I wil .’ He put the case away and searched his pockets for a
lighter. ‘You see, this is not just an ordinary operation for me. I have
many reasons for wanting to hurt you that are quite unconnected with
this electronic gear. I am quite certain I shal get it. Quite certain.’
His voice was cold as ice and I felt an answering shudder run down my
spine. /Kennikin wil want to operate on you with a sharp knife./ Slade
had said that, and Slade had delivered me into his hands.
He made a sound of annoyance as he discovered he had no means of
lighting his cigarette, and Ilyich stepped from behind me, a cigarette
lighter in his hand. Kennikin inclined his head to accept a light as the
flint sparked. It Sparked again but no flame appeared, and he said
irritably, ‘Oh, never mind!’
He leaned forward and picked up a spil of paper from the hearth,
ignited it at the fire, and lit his cigarette. I was interested in what
Ilyich was doing. He had not returned to his post behind my chair but
had gone to the cupboard where the liquor was kept – behind Kennikin.
Kennikin drew on the cigarette and blew a plume of smoke, and then
looked up. As soon as he saw that Ilyich was not in sight the pistol
appeared in his hand. ‘Ilyich, what are you doing?’ The gun pointed
steadily at me.
Ilyich turned with a refil cylinder of butane gas in his hand. ‘Fil ing
the lighter.’
Kennikin blew out his cheeks and rolled his eyes upwards. ‘Never mind
that,’ he said curtly. ‘Go outside and search the Volkswagen. You know
what to look for.’
‘It’s not there, Vaslav,’ I said.
‘Ilyich wil make sure of it,’ said Kennikin.
Ilyich put the butane cylinder back into the liquor cupboard and left
the room. Kennikin did not put away the pistol again but held it
casual y. ‘Didn’t I tel you? The team they have given me has been
scraped from the bottom of the barrel. I’m surprised you didn’t try to
take advantage.’
I said, ‘I might have done if you hadn’t been around.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘We know each other very wel . Perhaps too wel .’ He