head.’
Slade froze, and I snaked my other hand over his shoulder to the inside
of his jacket where I found a pistol in a shoulder holster. Everyone
seemed to be wearing guns these days and I was becoming exceptional y
competent at disarming people.
‘I don’t want a move from you,’ I said, and stepped back. I worked the
action of the pistol to make sure it was loaded, and threw off the
safety catch. ‘Stand up.’
Obediently he stood, stil clutching the newspaper. I said, ‘Walk
straight forward to the wal in front of you, lean against it with your
hands high and your arms held wide.’
I stepped back and watched him critical y as he went through the
evolution. He knew what I was going to do; this was the safest way of
searching a man. Being Slade, he tried to pull a fast one, so I said,
‘Pull your feet out from the wal and lean harder.’ That meant he would
be off-balance to begin with if he tried anything – just enough to give
me that extra fraction of a second that is al -important.
He shuffled his feet backwards and I saw the tel tale quiver of his
wrists as they took up the weight of his body. Then I searched him
swiftly, tossing the contents of his pockets on to the bed. He carried
no other weapon, unless you consider a hypodermic syringe a weapon,
which I was inclined to do when I saw the wal et of ampoules that went
‘with it. Green on the left for a six-hour certain knock-out; red on the
right for death in thirty seconds equal y certainly.
‘Now bend your knees and come down that wal very slowly.’ His knees
sagged and I brought him into the position in which I had had Fleet –
bel y down and arms wide stretched. It would take a better man than
Slade to jump me from that position; Fleet might have done it had I not
rammed his rifle in the smal of his back, but Slade was not as young
and he had a bigger paunch.
He lay with his head on one side, his right cheek pressed to the carpet
and his left eye glaring at me malevolently. He spoke for the first
time. ‘How do you know I won’t have visitors this afternoon?’
‘You’re right to worry about that,’ I said. ‘If anyone comes through
that door you’re dead.’ I smiled at him. ‘It would be a pity if it was a
chambermaid, then you’d be dead for nothing.’
He said, ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing, Stewart? Have you
gone out of your mind? I think you must have – I told Taggart so and he
agrees with me. Now, put away that gun and let me stand up.’
‘I must say you try,’ I said admiringly. ‘Nevertheless, if you move a
muscle towards getting up I’l shoot you dead.’ His only reaction to
that was a rapid blinking of the one eye I could see.
Presently he said, ‘You’l hang for this, Stewart. Treason is stil a
capital crime.’
‘A pity,’ I said. ‘At least /you/ won’t hang, because what you are doing
isn’t treason – merely espionage. I don’t think spies are hanged – not
in peacetime, anyway. It would be treason if you were English, but
you’re not; you’re a Russian.’
‘You’re out of your mind,’ he said disgustedly. ‘Me – a Russian!’
‘You’re as English as Gordon Lonsdale was Canadian.’
‘Oh, wait until Taggart gets hold of you,’ he said. ‘He’l put you
through the wringer.’
I said, ‘What are you doing consorting with the opposition, Slade?’
He actual y managed to summon up enough synthetic indignation to
splutter. ‘Dammit!’ he said. ‘It’s my job. You did the same; you were
Kennikin’s right-hand man at one time. I’m just following orders – which
is more than you are doing.’
That’s interesting,’ I said. ‘Your orders are very curious. Tel me more.’
‘I’l tel nothing to a traitor,’ he said virtuously.
I must say that at that moment I admired Slade for the first time. Lying
in a most undignified position and with a gun at his head he wasn’t
giving an inch and was prepared to fight to the end. I had been in his
position myself when I had got next to Kennikin in Sweden and I knew how
nerve-abrading a life it was – never knowing from one day to another
whether one’s cover had been blown. Here he was, stil trying to
convince me that he was as pure as the latest brand of detergent, and I
knew that if I let up on him for a fraction of a second so that he could
get the upper hand I would be a dead man in that very second.
I said, ‘Come off it, Slade. I heard you tel Ilyich to kil me. Don’t
tel me that was an order passed on from Taggart.’
‘Yes,’ he said, without the flicker of an eyelash. ‘He thinks you’ve
gone over. I can’t say I blame him, either, considering the way you’ve
been behaving.’
I almost burst out laughing at his effrontery. ‘By God, but you’re
good!’ I said. ‘You lie there with your face hanging out and tel me
that. I suppose Taggart also told you to ask the Russkies to do the job
for him.’
Slade’s exposed cheek wrinkled up into the rictus of a half smile. ‘It’s
been done before,’ he said. ‘You kil ed Jimmy Birkby.’
Involuntarily my finger tightened on the trigger, and I had to take a
deep breath before I relaxed. I tried to keep my voice even as I said,
‘You’ve never been nearer death than now, Slade. You shouldn’t have
mentioned Birkby -that’s a sore point. Let’s not have any more comedy.
You’re finished and you know it quite wel . You’re going to tel me a
lot of things I’m interested in, and you’re going to tel it fast, so
speak up.’
‘You can go to hel ,’ he said sullenly.
‘You’re a great deal nearer hel right now,’ I said. ‘Let me put it this
way. Personal y, I don’t give a damn if you’re English or Russian, a spy
or a traitor. I don’t give a damn for patriotism either; I’ve got past
that. With me this is purely personal – on a man-to-man basis, if you
like. The foundation for most murders. Elin was nearly kil ed in Asbyrgi
on your instruction, and I’ve just heard you tel a man to kil me. If I
kil you right now it wil be self-defence.’
Slade lifted his head a little and turned it so that he could look at me
straight. ‘But you won’t do it,’ he said.
‘No?’
‘No,’ he said with certainty. ‘I told you before – you’re too
soft-centred. You might kil me under different circumstances; if I were
running away, for instance, or if we were shooting at each other. But
you won’t kil me while I’m lying here. You’re an English gentleman.’ He
made it sound like a swearword.
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ I said. ‘Maybe Scots are different.’
‘Not enough to matter,’ he said indifferently.
I watched him look into the muzzle of the pistol without a quiver and I
had to give the devil his due. Slade knew men and he had my measure as
far as kil ing was concerned. He also knew that if he came for me I
would shoot to kil . He was safe enough while lying defenceless, but
action was another thing.
He smiled. ‘You’ve already proved it. You shot Yuri in the leg – why not
in the heart? By Kennikin’s account you were shooting accurately enough
across that river to have given every man a free shave without benefit
of barber. You could have kil ed Yuri – but you didn’t!’
‘Maybe I wasn’t feeling in the mood at the time. I kil ed Gregor.’
‘In the heat of action. Your death or his. Any man can make that kind of
decision.’
I had the uneasy feeling that the initiative was passing from me and I
had to get it back. I said, ‘You can’t talk if you’re dead – and you’re
going to talk. Let’s begin by you tel ing me about the electronic gadget
– what is it?’
He looked at me contemptuously and tightened his lips.
I glanced at the pistol I held. God knows why Slade carried it because
it was a .32 – a popgun just as heavy to lug about as a modern .38 but
without the stopping power. But maybe he was a crack shot and could hit
his target every time so that wouldn’t matter much. What would matter
when shooting in a populous place was that the muzzle blast was much
less and so were the decibels. You could probably fire it in a busy