Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy by John le Carré

‘He’d asked me to put him a quid on some nag with three left feet. I chatted with him for ten minutes, went back to my lair, wrote some letters, watched a rotten movie on the telly, then turned in. The first call came just as I was getting to sleep. Eleven twenty exactly. The phones didn’t stop ringing for the next ten hours. I thought the switchboard was going to blow up in my face.’

‘Arcadi’s five down,’ said a voice over the box.

‘Excuse me,’ said Sam, with his habitual grin, and leaving Smiley to the music slipped upstairs to cope.

Sitting alone, Smiley watched Sam’s brown cigarette slowly burning away in the ashtray. He waited, Sam didn’t return, he wondered whether he should stub it out. Not allowed to smoke on duty, he thought; house rules.

‘All done,’ said Sam.

The first call came from the Foreign Office resident clerk on the direct line, said Sam. In the Whitehall stakes, you might say, the Foreign Office won by a curled lip.

‘The Reuters headman in London had just called him with a story of a shooting in Prague. A British spy had been shot dead by Russian security forces, there was a hunt out for his accomplices and was the FO interested? The duty clerk was passing it to us for information. I said it sounded bunkum, and rang off just as Mike Meakin of wranglers came through to say that all hell had broken out on the Czech air: half of it was coded, but the other half was en clair. He kept getting garbled accounts of a shooting near Brno. Prague or Brno? I asked. Or both? Just Brno. I said keep listening and by then all five buzzers were going. Just as I was leaving the room, the resident clerk came back on the direct. The Reuters man had corrected his story, he said: for Prague read Brno. I closed the door and it was like leaving a wasps’ nest in your drawing room. Control was standing at his desk as I came in. He’d heard me coming up the stairs. Has Alleline put a carpet on those stairs, by the way?’

‘No,’ said Smiley. He was quite impassive. ‘George is like a swift,’ Ann had once told Haydon in his hearing. ‘He cuts down his body temperature till it’s the same as the environment. Then he doesn’t lose energy adjusting.’

‘You know how quick he was when he looked at you. He checked my hands to see whether I had a telegram for him and I wished I’d been carrying something but they were empty. “I’m afraid there’s a bit of a panic,” I said. I gave him the gist, he looked at his watch, I suppose he was trying to work out what should have been happening if everything had been plain sailing. I said “Can I have a brief, please?” He sat down, I couldn’t see him too well, he had that low green light on his desk. I said again, “I’ll need a brief. Do you want me to deny it? Why don’t I get someone in?” No answer. Mind you, there wasn’t anyone to get, but I didn’t know that yet. “I must have a brief.” We could hear footsteps downstairs and I knew the radio boys were trying to find me. “Do you want to come down and handle it yourself?” I said. I went round to the other side of the desk, stepping over these files, all open at different places; you’d think he was compiling an encyclopaedia. Some of them must have been pre-war. He was sitting like this.’

Sam bunched his fingers, laid the tips to his forehead and stared at the desk. His other hand was laid flat, holding Control’s imaginary fob watch. ‘ “Tell MacFadean to get me a cab then find Smiley.” “What about the operation?” I asked. I had to wait all night for an answer. “It’s deniable,” he says. “Both men had foreign documents. No one could know they were British at this stage.” “They’re only talking about one man,” I said. Then I said, “Smiley’s in Berlin.” That’s what I think I said anyway. So we have another two-minute silence. “Anyone will do. It makes no difference.” I should have been sorry for him I suppose but just then I couldn’t raise much sympathy. I was having to hold the baby and I didn’t know a damn thing. MacFadean wasn’t around so I reckoned Control could find his own cab and by the time I got to the bottom of the steps I must have looked like Gordon at Khartoum. The duty harridan from monitoring was waving bulletins at me like flags, a couple of janitors were yelling at me, the radio boy was clutching a bunch of signals, the phones were going, not just my own, but half a dozen of the direct lines on the fourth floor. I went straight to the duty room and switched off all the lines while I tried to get my bearings. The monitor – what’s that woman’s name for God’s sake, used to play bridge with the Dolphin?’

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *