The Human Factor (5 page)

‘Pour me out another whisky, would you, Percival, there's a good chap. Every year I say it's my last shoot.'

‘But those steak-and-kidney pies of your wife's are wonderful. I wouldn't miss them,' Percival said.

‘I daresay we could find another excuse for them.'

‘You could try putting trout in that stream . . .'

Daintry again experienced a twitch of envy; once more he felt left out. He had no life in common with his companions in the world outside the borders of security. Even as a gun he felt professional. Percival was said to collect pictures, and C? A whole social existence had been opened up for him by his rich American wife. The steak-and-kidney pie was all that Daintry was permitted to share with them outside office hours – for the first and perhaps the last time.

‘Tell me more about Davis,' C said.

‘Reading University. Mathematics and physics. Did some of his military service at Aldermaston. Never supported – anyway openly – the marchers. Labour Party, of course.'

‘Like forty-five per cent of the population,' C said.

‘Yes, yes, of course, but all the same . . . He's a bachelor. Lives alone. Spends fairly freely. Fond of vintage port. Bets on the tote. That's a classic way, of course, of explaining why you can afford . . .'

‘What does he afford? Besides port.'

‘Well, he has a Jaguar.'

‘So have I,' Percival said. ‘I suppose we mustn't ask you how the leak was discovered?'

‘I wouldn't have brought you here if I couldn't tell you that. Watson knows, but no one else in Section 6. The source of information is an unusual one – a Soviet defector who remains in place.'

‘Could the leak come from Section 6 abroad?' Daintry asked.

‘It could, but I doubt it. It's true that one report they had seemed to come direct from Lourenço Marques. It was word for word as 69300 wrote it. Almost like a photostat of the actual report, so one might have thought that the leak was there if it weren't for a few corrections and deletions. Inaccuracies which could only have been spotted here by comparing the report with the files.'

‘A secretary?' Percival suggested.

‘Daintry began his check with those, didn't you? They are more heavily vetted than anyone. That leaves us Watson, Castle and Davis.'

‘A thing that worries me,' Daintry said, ‘is that Davis was the one who was taking a report out of the office. One from Pretoria. No apparent importance, but it did have a Chinese angle. He said he wanted to reread it over lunch. He and Castle had got to discuss it later with Watson. I checked the truth of that with Watson.'

‘What do you suggest we do?' C asked.

‘We could put down a maximum security check with the help of 5 and Special Branch. On everyone in Section 6. Letters, telephone calls, bug flats, watch movements.'

‘If things were as simple as that, Daintry, I wouldn't have bothered you to come up here. This is only a second-class shoot, and I knew the pheasants would disappoint you.'

Hargreaves lifted his bad leg with both hands and eased it towards the fire. ‘Suppose we did prove Davis to be the culprit – or Castle or Watson. What should we do then?'

‘Surely that would be up to the courts,' Daintry said.

‘Headlines in the papers. Another trial
in camera
. No one outside would know how small and unimportant the leaks were. Whoever he is he won't rate forty years like Blake. Perhaps he'll serve ten if the prison's secure.'

‘That's not our concern surely.'

‘No, Daintry, but I don't enjoy the thought of that trial one little bit. What co-operation can we expect from the Americans afterwards? And then there's our source. I told you, he's still in place. We don't want to blow him as long as he proves useful.'

‘In a way,' Percival said, ‘it would be better to close our eyes like a complaisant husband. Draft whoever it is to some innocuous department. Forget things.'

‘And abet a crime?' Daintry protested.

‘Oh, crime,' Percival said and smiled at C like a fellow conspirator. ‘We are all committing crimes somewhere, aren't we? It's our job.'

‘The trouble is,' C said, ‘that the situation
is
a bit like a rocky marriage. In a marriage, if the lover begins to be bored by the complaisant husband, he can always provoke a scandal. He holds the strong suit. He can choose his own time. I don't want any scandal provoked.'

Daintry hated flippancy. Flippancy was like a secret code of which he didn't possess the book. He had the right to read cables and reports marked Top Secret, but flippancy like this was so secret that he hadn't a clue to its understanding. He said, ‘Personally I would resign rather than cover up.' He put down his glass of whisky so hard that he chipped the crystal. Lady Hargreaves again, he thought. She must have insisted on crystal. He said, ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Of course you are right, Daintry,' Hargreaves said. ‘Never mind the glass. Please don't think I've brought you all the way up here to persuade you to let things drop, if we have sufficient proof . . . But a trial isn't necessarily the right answer. The Russians don't usually bring things to a trial with their own people. The trial of Penkovsky gave all of us a great boost in morale, they even exaggerated his importance, just as the CIA did. I still wonder why they held it. I wish I were a chess player. Do you play chess, Daintry?'

‘No, bridge is my game.'

‘The Russians don't play bridge, or so I understand.'

‘Is that important?'

‘We are playing games, Daintry, games, all of us. It's important not to take a game too seriously or we may lose it. We have to keep flexible, but it's important, naturally, to play the same game.'

‘I'm sorry, sir,' Daintry said, ‘I don't understand what you are talking about.'

He was aware that he had drunk too much whisky, and he was aware that C and Percival were deliberately looking away from each other – they didn't want to humiliate him. They had heads of stone, he thought, stone.

‘Shall we just have one more whisky,' C said, ‘or perhaps not. It's been a long wet day. Percival . . .?'

Daintry said, ‘I'd like another.'

Percival poured out the drinks. Daintry said, ‘I'm sorry to be difficult, but I'd like to get things a little clearer before bed, or I won't sleep.'

‘It's really very simple,' C said. ‘Put on your maximum security check if you like. It may flush the bird without more trouble. He'll soon realize what's going on – if he's guilty, that is. You might think up some kind of test – the old marked fiver technique seldom fails. When we are quite certain he's our man, then it seems to me we will just have to eliminate him. No trial, no publicity. If we can get information about his contacts first, so much the better, but we mustn't risk a public flight and then a press conference in Moscow. An arrest too is out of the question. Granted that he's in Section 6, there's no information he can possibly give which would do as much harm as the scandal of a court case.'

‘Elimination? You mean . . .'

‘I know that elimination is rather a new thing for us. More in the KGB line or the CIA's. That's why I wanted Percival here to meet you. We may need the help of his science boys. Nothing spectacular. Doctor's certificate. No inquest if it can be avoided. A suicide's only too easy, but then a suicide always means an inquest, and that might lead to a question in the House. Everyone knows now what a “department of the Foreign Office” means. “Was any question of security involved?” You know the kind of thing some back-bencher is sure to ask. And no one ever believes the official answer. Certainly not the Americans.'

‘Yes,' Percival said, ‘I quite understand. He should die quietly, peacefully, without pain too, poor chap. Pain sometimes shows on the face, and there may be relatives to consider. A natural death . . .'

‘It's a bit difficult, I realize, with all the new antibiotics,' C said. ‘Assuming for the moment that it
is
Davis, he's a man of only just over forty. In the prime of life.'

‘I agree. A heart attack might just possibly be arranged. Unless . . . Does anyone know whether he drinks a lot?'

‘You said something about port, didn't you, Daintry?'

‘I'm not saying he's guilty,' Daintry said.

‘None of us are,' C said. ‘We are only taking Davis as a possible example ... to help us examine the problem.'

‘I'd like to look at his medical history,' Percival said, ‘and I'd like to get to know him on some excuse. In a way he would be my patient, wouldn't he? That is to say if . . .'

‘You and Daintry could arrange that somehow together. There's no great hurry. We have to be quite sure he's our man. And now – it's been a long day – too many hares and too few pheasants – sleep well. Breakfast on a tray. Eggs and bacon? Sausages? Tea or coffee?'

Percival said, ‘The works, coffee, bacon, eggs and sausages, if that's all right.'

‘Nine o'clock?'

‘Nine o'clock.'

‘And you, Daintry?'

‘Just coffee and toast. Eight o'clock if you don't mind. I can never sleep late and I have a lot of work waiting.'

‘You ought to relax more,' C said.

3

Colonel Daintry was a compulsive shaver. He had shaved already before dinner, but now he went over his chin a second time with his Remington. Then he shook a little dust into the basin and touching it with his fingers felt justified. Afterwards he turned on his electric water-pick. The low buzz was enough to drown the tap on his door, so he was surprised when in the mirror he saw the door swing open and Doctor Percival pass diffidently in.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Daintry.'

‘Come in, do. Forgot to pack something? Anything I can lend you?'

‘No, no. I just wanted a word before bed. Amusing little gadget, that of yours. Fashionable, too. I suppose it really is better than an ordinary toothbrush?'

‘The water gets between the teeth,' Daintry said. ‘My dentist recommended it.'

‘I always carry a toothpick for that,' Percival said. He took a little red Cartier case out of his pocket. ‘Pretty isn't it? Eighteen carat. My father used it before me.'

‘I think this is more hygienic,' Daintry said.

‘Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that. This washes easily. I was a general consultant, you know, Harley Street and all, before I got involved in this show. I don't know why they wanted me – perhaps to sign death certificates.' He trotted around the room, showing an interest in everything. ‘I hope you keep clear of all this fluoride nonsense.' He paused at a photograph which stood in a folding case on the dressing-table. ‘Is this your wife?'

‘No. My daughter.'

‘Pretty girl.'

‘My wife and I are separated.'

‘Never married myself,' Percival said. ‘To tell you the truth I never had much interest in women. Don't mistake me – not in boys either. Now a good trout stream . . . Know the Aube?'

‘No.'

‘A very small stream with very big fish.'

‘I can't say I've ever had much interest in fishing,' Daintry said, and he began to tidy up his gadget.

‘How I run on, don't I?' Percival said. ‘Never can go straight to a subject. It's like fishing again. You sometimes have to make a hundred false casts before you place the fly.'

‘I'm not a fish,' Daintry said, ‘and it's after midnight.'

‘My dear fellow, I really am sorry. I promise I won't keep you up a minute longer. Only I didn't want you to go to bed troubled.'

‘Was I troubled?'

‘It seemed to me you were a bit shocked at C's attitude – I mean to things in general.'

‘Yes, perhaps I was.'

‘You haven't been a long time with us, have you, or you'd know how we all live in boxes – you know – boxes.'

‘I still don't understand.'

‘Yes, you said that before, didn't you? Understanding isn't all that necessary in our business. I see they've given you the Ben Nicholson room.'

‘I don't . . .'

‘I'm in the Miro room. Good lithographs, aren't they? As a matter of fact it was my idea – these decorations. Lady Hargreaves wanted sporting prints. To go with the pheasants.'

‘I don't understand modern pictures,' Daintry said.

‘Take a look at that Nicholson. Such a clever balance. Squares of different colour. And yet living so happily together. No clash. The man has a wonderful eye. Change just one of the colours – even the size of the square, and it would be no good at all.' Percival pointed at a yellow square. ‘There's your Section 6. That's your square from now on. You don't need to worry about the blue and the red. All you have to do is pinpoint our man and then tell me. You've no responsibility for what happens in the blue or red squares. In fact not even in the yellow. You just report. No bad conscience. No guilt.'

‘An action has nothing to do with its consequences. Is that what you're telling me?'

‘The consequences are decided elsewhere, Daintry. You mustn't take the conversation tonight too seriously. C likes to toss ideas up into the air and see how they fall. He likes to shock. You know the cannibal story. As far as I know, the criminal – if there is a criminal – will be handed over to the police in quite the conservative way. Nothing to keep you awake. Do just try to understand that picture. Particularly the yellow square. If you could only see it with my eyes, you would sleep well tonight.'