Haldane spoke first again: “What are you trying to say?”
“There’s a military plane waiting at Hamburg. You fly in two hours; all of you. A truck will collect the equipment. You’re to leave nothing behind, not even a pin. Those are my instructions.”
Leclerc said, “What about the target? Have they forgotten why we’re here? They’re asking a lot, you know, Smiley: a great lot.”
“Yes, the target,” Smiley conceded. “We’ll have a conference in London. Perhaps we could do a joint operation.”
“It’s a military target. I shall want my Ministry represented. No monolith: it’s a policy decision, you know.”
“Of course. And it’ll be your show.”
“I suggest the product go out under our joint title: my Ministry could retain autonomy in the matter of distribution. I imagine that would meet their more obvious objections. How about your people?”
“Yes, I think Control would accept that.”
Leclerc said casually, everyone watching, “And the schedule? Who takes care of that? We’ve an agent in the field, you know.” It was only a small point.
“He’ll have to manage by himself.”
“The war rules,” Leclerc spoke proudly, “we play the war rules. He knew that. He was well trained.” He seemed reconciled; the thing was dismissed.
Avery spoke for the first time “You can’t leave him out there alone.” His voice was flat.
Leclerc intervened. “You know Avery, my aide?” This time no one came to his rescue Smiley, ignoring him, observed, “The man’s probably been caught already. It’s only a matter of hours.”
“You’re leaving him there to die!” Avery was gathering courage.
“We’re disowning him. It’s never a pretty process. He’s as good as caught already, don’t you see?”
“You can’t do it,” he shouted. “You can’t just leave him there for some squalid diplomatic reason!”
Now Haldane swung around on Avery, furious. “You of all people should not complain! You wanted a faith, didn’t you? You wanted an eleventh Commandment that would match your rare soul!” He indicated Smiley and Leclerc. “Well, here you have it: here is the law you were looking for. Congratulate yourself; you found it. We sent him because we needed to; we abandon him because we must. That is the discipline you admired.” He turned to Smiley. “You too: I find you contemptible. You shoot us, then preach to the dying. Go away. We’re technicians, not poets. Go away!”
Smiley said, “Yes. You’re a very good technician, Adrian. There’s no pain in you anymore. You’ve made technique a way of life … like a whore … technique replacing love.” He hesitated. “Little flags … the old war piping in the new. There was all that, wasn’t there? And then the man … he must have been heady wine. Comfort yourself, Adrian, you weren’t fit.”
He straightened his back, making a statement. “A British-naturalized Pole with a criminal record escapes across the border to East Germany. There is no extradition treaty The Germans will say he is a spy and produce the equipment; we shall say they planted it and point out that it’s twenty-five years old. I understand he put out a cover story that he was attending a course in Coventry. That is easily disproved: there is no such course. The conclusion is that he proposed to flee the country; and we shall imply that he owed money. He was keeping some young girl, you know; she worked in a bank. That ties in quite nicely. I mean with the criminal record, since we have to make one up….” He nodded to himself. “As I say, it’s not an attractive process. By then we shall all be in London.”
“And he’ll be transmitting,” Avery said, “and no one will listen!”
“To the contrary,” Smiley retorted bitterly. “They’ll be listening.”
Haldane asked: “Control too, no doubt. Isn’t that right?”
“Stop!” Avery shouted suddenly, “Stop for God’s sake! If anything matters, if anything is real, we’ve got to hear him now! For the sake of …”
“Well?” Haldane inquired with a sneer.
“Love. Yes, love! Not yours, Haldane, mine. Smiley’s right! You made me do it for you, made me love him! It wasn’t in you anymore! I brought him to you, I kept him in your house, made him dance to the music of your bloody war! I piped for him, but there’s no breath in me now. He’s Peter Pan’s last victim, Haldane, the last one, the last love; the last music gone.”