Smiley sipped his claret. “I just thought I’d make the point. It’s so easy to get hypnotized by technique. I didn’t mean to imply … How is Haldane, by the way? He read Greats, you know. We were up together.”
“Adrian is well.”
“I liked your Avery,” Smiley said politely. His heavy, small face contracted in pain. “Do you realize,” he asked impressively, “they still don’t include the Baroque period in the German syllabus? They call it a special subject.”
“Then there is the question of a clandestine wireless. We haven’t used that kind of thing much since the war. I understand it has all become a great deal more sophisticated. Highspeed transmission and so on. We want to keep up with the times.”
“Yes. Yes, I believe the message is taped on a miniature recorder and sent over the air in a matter of seconds.” He sighed. “But no one really tells us much. The technical people hold their cards very close to their chests.”
“Is that a method in which our people could profitably be trained … in a month, say?”
“And use under operational conditions?” Smiley asked in astonishment. “Straightaway, after a month’s training?”
“Some are technically minded, you understand. People with wireless experience.”
Smiley was watching Leclerc incredulously. “Forgive me. Would he, would they,” he inquired, “have other things to learn in that month as well?”
“For some it’s more a refresher course.”
“Ah.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Smiley said vaguely and added, “I don’t think our technical people would be very keen to part with this kind of equipment unless …”
“Unless it were their own training operation?”
“Yes.” Smiley blushed. “Yes, that’s what I mean. They’re very particular, you know; jealous.”
Leclerc lapsed into silence, lightly tapping the vase of his wine glass on the polished surface of the table. Suddenly he smiled and said, as if he had shaken off depression, “Oh, well. We shall just have to use a conventional set. Have direction-finding methods also improved since the war? Interception, location of an illegal transmitter?”
“Oh yes. Yes, indeed.”
“We would have to incorporate that. How long can a man remain on the air before they spot him?”
“Two or three minutes, perhaps. It depends. Often it’s a matter of luck how soon they hear him. They can only pin him down while he’s transmitting. Much depends on the frequency. Or so they tell me.”
“In the war,” said Leclerc reflectively, “we gave an agent several crystals. Each vibrated at a fixed frequency. Every so often he changed the crystal; that was usually a safe enough method. We could do that again.”
“Yes. Yes, I remember that. But there was the headache of retuning the transmitter . . . possibly changing the coil. . . matching the aerial.”
“Suppose a man is used to a conventional set? You tell me the chances of interception are greater now than they were in the war? You say allow two or three minutes?”
“Or less,” said Smiley, watching him. “It depends on a lot of things . . . luck, reception, amount of signal traffic, density of population . . .”
“Supposing he changed his frequency after every two and a half minutes on the air. Surely that would meet the case?”
“It could be a slow business.” His sad, unhealthy face was wrinkled in concern. “You’re quite sure this is only training?”
“As far as I remember,” Leclerc persisted, courting his own idea, “these crystals are the size of a small matchbox. We could give them several. We’re only aiming at a few transmissions; perhaps only three or four. Would you consider my suggestion impractical?”
“It’s hardly my province.”
“What is the alternative? I asked Control; he said speak to you. He said you’d help, find me the equipment. What else can I do? Can I talk to your technical people?”
“I’m sorry. Control rather agreed with the technical side, that we should give all the help we can, but not compromise new equipment. Risk compromising it, I mean. After all, it is only training. I think he felt that if you hadn’t full technical resources you should…”
“Hand over the commitment?”
“No, no,” Smiley protested, but Leclerc interrupted him.