THE LOOKING GLASS WAR by John LeCarré

“Of course. I’d like to go … if you trust me.”

Leclerc enjoyed that. Now he pushed a piece of blue draft paper into Avery’s hand. It was covered with Leclerc’s own writing, boyish and rounded. He had written “Ephemeral” at the top and underlined it. In the left-hand margin were his initials, all four, and beneath them the word Unclassified. Once more Avery began reading.

“If you follow it carefully,” Leclerc said, “you’ll see that we don’t specifically state that you are next of kin; we just quote from Taylor’s application form. That’s as far as the Foreign Office people are prepared to go. They’ve agreed to send this to the local consulate via Helsinki.”

Avery read:

Following from Consular Department. Your Teleprint re Malherbe. John Somerton Avery, holder of British passport no —, half brother of deceased, is named in Malherbe’s passport application as next of kin. Avery informed and proposes fly out today take over body and effects. NAS flight 201 via Hamburg, ETA 1820 local time. Please provide usual facilities and assistance.

“I didn’t know your passport number,” Leclerc said. “The plane leaves at three this afternoon. It’s only a small place; I imagine the Consul will meet you at the airport. There’s a flight from Hamburg every other day. If you don’t have to go to Helsinki you can take the same plane back.”

“Couldn’t I be his brother?” Avery asked lamely. “Half brother looks fishy.”

“There’s no time to rig the passport. The Foreign Office is being very sticky about passports. We had a lot of trouble about Taylor’s.” He had returned to the file. “A lot of trouble. It would mean calling you Malherbe as well, you see. I don’t think they’d like that.” He spoke without attention, paying out rope.

The room was very cold.

Avery said, “What about our Scandinavian friend”—Leclerc looked uncomprehending—”Lansen. Shouldn’t someone contact him?”

“I’m attending to that.” Leclerc, hating questions, replied cautiously as if he might be quoted.

“And Taylor’s wife?” It seemed pedantic, to say widow. “Are you attending to her?”

“I thought we’d go around first thing in the morning. She doesn’t have a telephone. Telegrams are so cryptic.”

“We?” said Avery. “Do we both need to go?”

“You’re my aide, aren’t you?” Leclerc said.

It was too quiet. Avery longed for the sound of traffic and the buzz of telephones. By day they had people about them, the tramp of messengers, the drone of registry trolleys. He had the feeling, when alone with Leclerc, that the third person was missing. No one else made him so conscious of behavior, no one else had such a disintegrating effect on conversation. He wished Leclerc would give him something else to read.

“Have you heard anything about Taylor’s wife?” Leclerc asked. “Is she a secure sort of person?”

Seeing that Avery did not understand, he continued:

“She could make it awkward for us, you know. If she decided to. We shall have to tread carefully.”

“What will you say to her?”

“We shall play it by ear. The way we did in the war. She won’t know, you see. She won’t even know he was abroad.”

“He might have told her.”

“Not Taylor. Taylor’s an old hand. He had his instructions and knew the rules. She must have a pension, that’s most important. Active service.” He made another brisk, finite gesture with his hand.

“And the staff; what will you tell them?”

“I shall hold a meeting this morning for Heads of Sections. As for the rest of the Department, we shall say it was an accident.”

“Perhaps it was,” Avery suggested.

Leclerc was smiling again; an iron bar of a smile, like an affliction.

“In which case we shall have told the truth; and have more chance of getting that film.”

There was still no traffic in the street outside. Avery felt hungry. Leclerc glanced at his watch.

“You were looking at Gorton’s report,” Avery said.

He shook his head, wistfully touched a file, revisiting a favorite album. “There’s nothing there. I’ve read it over and over again. I’ve had the other photographs blown up to every conceivable size. Haldane’s people have been on them night and day. We just can’t get any further.”

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