fight.â
âYou never did.â The reply came through in a mumble. âBut you wonât win against the Mandarins. Nobody does.â
She hadnât heard the nickname for the power figures in the Establishment for a long time. It dated Harrington to the early postwar days.
âI can win,â she said, âif I can show something that canât be brushed aside.â
He raised his head and narrowed his eyes to focus on her face. He was growing short-sighted and outlines werenât clear any more. Clever bitch, he thought, giving me a heart attack first. My Christ, Iâve lost my touch, falling for that bad-news trick. Thereâs no official cover-up. Sheâs trying to force the pace, thatâs all, get me to give something for nothing.
âYou donât have to believe me,â Davina said. âItâs up to you. I can walk out of here, and thatâll be the end of it. And youâll serve out your sentence. Not twenty-four years, because youâll get remission. But long enough.â
âBlackmailing?â he hissed at her.
She shook her head. âNo. I stand to lose as much as you, in a way. The Service even more so. I need you, Peter, or I wouldnât be here. And you need me. Thatâs not blackmail, thatâs fact.â
âGive me a cigarette,â he said. âAll right â now. Let me ask you a few questions first. Where did you get the tip-off?â
Davina put the recorder on the desk, snapped the switch down and it began recording. âIt came from outside. We had an operative with military training. He joined me on a mission last year. And he noticed some funny coincidences. He began compiling a report, noting things that didnât add up, and which, frankly, none of us would have seen. It needed a fresh eye, Peter. At the end, what heâd done was put a lot of pieces of jigsaw together with one big missing piece. But it made a picture all the same.â
âMade up of coincidences, though,â Harrington objected. âNo hard facts.â
âNo,â Davina admitted. âBut you know yourself that facts can be misleading. This was a sequence of events. Starting with Sasanov and you and me.â
He sucked on the cigarette; he had regained his composure. The habit and training of his whole life reasserted itself and his mind started running ahead of Davinaâs voice. Himself and her and Sasanov. The Russian Intelligence disaster of the decade. So nearly reversed and neutralized. Except for Davina Graham â that was the obvious reason. And yet there was a shading, a grey area that tantalized his instincts.
âIâd like to look at this report,â he said. He could see by her expression that the suggestion was dismissed. âListen to me, Davy,â he said. âIâm not up to anything. I donât give a fuck about who wins the Intelligence war. All I want is to get out of here; live out my life in some nice neutral place like Switzerland. Iâm fifty-four, and I feel a fucking hundred. Let me see that report.â
âWhy?â
âBecause all I know is the codename: Albatross.â His voice rose. âIf I knew who he was Iâd tell you, in exchange for a pardon. Or a deal with Moscow, like Lonsdale. I wouldnât hold out â I wouldnât drag this on for week after week for my own sake. Iâm starting to go mad in here, now that youâve stirred things up!â
She believed him. She believed the pitch of desperation in his voice, and the twitching hands fumbling with the packet of cigarettes. And he had lost weight since she had seen him a fortnight ago. He was telling the truth. He knew there was someone, but he didnât know who it was. They would need his brain working in cooperation with hers if the missing piece of Colinâs jigsaw was to be found and fitted into place.
âIâll get a copy of the report for you,â she said.