Throughout this protracted statement of intent, which he delivered with an air of fussy concern, Smiley had remained in the downbeam of a bright light strung from the rafter: a supplicant, rather abject figure, one might have thought, and easily visible across the open space. The attitude had its effect. Leaving the cage, the white figure strode towards a glazed kiosk, built between two iron pillars, and with his fine head beckoned Smiley to follow. As he went, he pulled the gloves off his hands. They were leather gloves, handstitched and quite expensive.
‘Well, you want mind out how you open door,’ he warned in the same loud voice. ‘You want use lift, see, or maybe you pay couple pounds. Use lift you don’t make no trouble.’
‘Max, I want to talk to you,’ said Smiley once they were inside the kiosk. ‘Alone. Away from here.’
Max was broad and powerful with a pale boy’s face, but the skin of it was lined like an old man’s. He was handsome and his eyes were very still. He had altogether a rather deadly stillness.
‘Now? You want talk now?’
‘In the car. I’ve got one outside. If you walk to the top of the ramp you can get straight into it.’
Putting his hand to his mouth Max yelled across the garage. He was half a head taller than Smiley and had a roar like a drum major’s. Smiley couldn’t catch the words. Possibly they were Czech. There was no answer but Max was already unbuttoning his overalls.
‘It’s about Jim Prideaux,’ Smiley said.
‘Sure,’ said Max.
They drove up to Hampstead and sat in the shiny Rover, watching the kids breaking the ice on the pond. The rain had held off after all; perhaps because it was so cold.
Above ground Max wore a blue suit and a blue shirt. His tie was blue but carefully differentiated from the other blues: he had taken a lot of trouble to get the shade. He wore several rings and flying boots with zips at the side.
‘I’m not in it any more. Did they tell you?’ Smiley asked. Max shrugged. ‘I thought they would have told you,’ Smiley said.
Max was sitting straight; he didn’t use the seat to lean on, he was too proud. He did not look at Smiley. His eyes were turned fixedly to the pool and the kids fooling and skidding in the reeds.
‘They don’t tell me nothing,’ he said.
‘I was sacked,’ said Smiley. ‘I guess at about the same time as you.’
Max seemed to stretch slightly then settle again. ‘Too bad, George. What you do: steal money?’
‘I don’t want them to know, Max.’
‘You private, I private too,’ said Max and from a gold case offered Smiley a cigarette which he declined.
‘I want to hear what happened,’ Smiley went on. ‘I wanted to find out before they sacked me but there wasn’t time.’
‘That why they sack you?’
‘Maybe.’
‘You don’t know so much, huh?’ said Max, his gaze nonchalantly on the kids.
Smiley spoke very simply, watching all the while in case Max didn’t understand. They could have spoken German but Max wouldn’t have that, he knew. So he spoke English and watched Max’s face.
‘I don’t know anything, Max. I had no part in it at all. I was in Berlin when it happened, I knew nothing of the planning or the background. They cabled me, but when I arrived in London it was too late.’
‘Planning,’ Max repeated. ‘That was some planning.’ His jaw and cheeks became suddenly a mass of lines and his eyes turned narrow, making a grimace or a smile. ‘So now you got plenty time, eh George? Jesus, that was some planning.’
‘Jim had a special job to do. He asked for you.’
‘Sure. Jim ask for Max to babysit.’
‘How did he get you? Did he turn up in Acton and speak to Toby Esterhase, and say “Toby, I want Max”? How did he get you?’
Max’s hands were resting on his knees. They were groomed and slender, all but the knuckles which were very broad. Now, at the mention of Esterhase he turned the palms inwards and made a light cage of them as if he had caught a butterfly.