Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy by John le Carré

Smiley interrupted: ‘That was Fawn at the door just now?’

‘He watched my back while we talked,’ Guillam said. ‘I’ve kept him with us ever since. As soon as I’d heard Tarr’s story, I rang Lacon from a callbox and asked for an interview. George, why don’t we talk this over among ourselves?’

‘Rang Lacon down here or in London?’

‘Down here,’ said Lacon.

There was a pause till Guillam explained: ‘I happened to remember the name of a girl in Lacon’s office. I mentioned her name and said she had asked me to speak to him urgently on an intimate matter. It wasn’t perfect but it was the best I could think of on the spur of the moment.’ He added, filling the silence, ‘Well damn it, there was no reason to suppose the phone was tapped.’

‘There was every reason.’

Smiley had closed the passport and was examining the binding by the light of a tattered reading lamp at his side. ‘This is rather good, isn’t it?’ he remarked lightly. ‘Really very good indeed. I’d say that was a professional product. I can’t find a blemish.’

‘Don’t worry, Mr Smiley,’ Tarr retorted, taking it back, ‘it’s not made in Russia.’ By the time he reached the door his smile had returned. ‘You know something?’ he said, addressing all three of them down the aisle of the long room. ‘If Irina is right, you boys are going to need a whole new Circus. So if we all stick together I guess we could be in on the ground floor.’ He gave the door a playful tap. ‘Come on, darling, it’s me. Ricki.’

‘Thank you! It’s all right now! Open up, please,’ Lacon shouted and a moment later the key was turned, the dark figure of Fawn the babysitter flitted into view and the four footsteps faded into the big hollows of the house, to the distant accompaniment of Jackie Lacon’s crying.

CHAPTER TEN

On another side of the house, away from the pony paddock, a grass tennis court was hidden among the trees. It was not a good tennis court; it was mown seldom. In spring the grass was sodden from the winter and no sun got in to dry it, in summer the balls disappeared into the foliage and this morning it was ankle deep in frosted leaves that had collected here from all over the garden. But round the outside, roughly following the wire rectangle, a footpath wandered between some beech trees and here Smiley and Lacon wandered also. Smiley had fetched his travelling coat but Lacon wore only his threadbare suit. For this reason perhaps he chose a brisk, if uncoordinated, pace which with each stride took him well ahead of Smiley so that he had constantly to hover, shoulders and elbows lifted, waiting till the shorter man caught up. Then he promptly bounded off again, gaining ground. They completed two laps in this way before Lacon broke the silence.

‘When you came to me a year ago with a similar suggestion, I’m afraid I threw you out. I suppose I should apologise. I was remiss.’ There was a suitable silence while he pondered his dereliction. ‘I instructed you to abandon your enquiries.’

‘You told me they were unconstitutional,’ Smiley said mournfully, as if he were recalling the same sad error.

‘Was that the word I used? Good Lord, how very pompous of me!’

From the direction of the house came the sound of Jackie’s continued crying.

‘You never had any, did you?’ Lacon piped at once, his head lifted to the sound.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Children. You and Ann.’

‘No.’

‘Nephews, nieces?’

‘One nephew.’

‘On your side?’

‘Hers.’

Perhaps I never left the place, he thought, peering around him at the tangled roses, the broken swings and sodden sandpits, the raw, red house so shrill in the morning light. Perhaps we’re still here from last time.

Lacon was apologising again: ‘Dare I say I didn’t absolutely trust your motives? It rather crossed my mind that Control had put you up to it, you see. As a way of hanging on to power and keeping Percy Alleline out’ – swirling away again, long strides, wrists outward.

‘Oh no, I assure you Control knew nothing about it at all.’

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