THE SPY WHO CAME IN FROM ThE COLD by Le Carre, John

Imperturbably Karden waited for her sobbing to stop.

“That,” he observed finally to the Tribunal before him, “is the evidence of the defense. I am sorry that a girl whose perception is clouded by sentiment and whose alertness is blunted by money should be considered by our British comrades a suitable person for Party office.”

Looking first at Leamas and then at Fiedler he added brutally: “She is a fool. It is fortunate, nevertheless, that Leamas met her. This is not the first time that a _revanchist_ plot has been uncovered through the decadence of its architects.”

With a little, precise bow toward the Tribunal, Karden sat down.

As he did so, Leamas rose to his feet, and this time the guards let him alone.

London must have gone raving mad. He’d told them–That was the joke–he’d told them to leave her alone. And now it was clear that from the moment, the very moment he left England–before that, even, as soon as he went to prison–some bloody fool had gone round tidying up–paying the bills, settling the grocer, the landlord; above all, Liz. It was insane, fantastic. What were they trying to do–kill Fiedler, kill their agent? Sabotage their own operation? Was it just Smiley? Had his wretched little conscience driven him to this? There was only one thing to do–get Liz and Fiedler out of it and carry the can. He was probably written off anyway. If he could save Fiedler’s skin–if he could do that–perhaps there was a chance that Liz would get away.

How the hell did they know so much? He was sure he hadn’t been followed to Smiley’s house that afternoon. And the money–how did they pick up the story about him stealing money from the Circus? That was designed for internal consumption only . . . then how? For God’s sake, how?

Bewildered, angry and bitterly ashamed, he walked slowly up the gangway, stiffly, like a man going to the scaffold.

* * 23 * Confession

“All right, Karden.” His face was white and hard as stone, his head tilted back, a little to one side, in the attitude of a man listening to some distant sound. There was a frightful stillness about him, not of resignation but of self-control, so that his whole body seemed to be in the iron grip of his will.

“All right, Karden, let her go.”

Liz was staring at him, her face crumpled and ugly, her dark eyes filled with tears.

“No, Alec . . . no,” she said. There was no one else in the room–just Leamas tall and straight like a soldier.

“Don’t tell them,” she said, her voice rising, “whatever it is, don’t tell them just because of me.. . . I don’t mind any more, Alec. I promise I don’t.”

“Shut up, Liz,” said Leamas awkwardly. “It’s too late now.” His eyes turned to the President. “She knows nothing. Nothing at all. Get her out of here and send her home. I’ll tell you the rest.”

The President glanced briefly at the men on either side of her. She deliberated, then said, “She can leave the court, but she cannot go home until the hearing is finished. Then we shall see.”

“She knows nothing, I tell you!” Leamas shouted. “Karden’s right, don’t you see? It was an operation, a planned operation. How could she know that? She’s just a frustrated little girl from a crackpot library– she’s no good to you!”

“She is a witness,” replied the President shortly. “Fiedler may want to question her.” It wasn’t Comrade Fiedler any more.

At the mention of his name, Fiedler seemed to wake from the reverie into which he had sunk, and Liz looked at him consciously for the first time. His deep brown eyes rested on her for a moment, and he smiled very slightly, as if in recognition of her race. He was a small, forlorn figure, oddly relaxed she thought.

“She knows nothing,” Fiedler said. “Leamas is right, let her go.” His voice was tired.

“You realize what you are saying?” the PresidentS asked. “You realize what this means? Have you no questions to put to her?”

“She has said what she had to say.” Fiedler’s hands were folded on his knees and he was studying them as if they interested him more than the proceedings of the court. “It was all most cleverly done.” He nodded. “Let her go. She cannot tell us what she does not know.” With a certain mock formality he added, “I have no questions for the witness.”

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