The Looking Glass War Part 27

"Of course," Avery said gently. "We can't see it ourselves, can we? We can't see the whole picture." He was trying to make it better for LeClerc. "We haven't the perspective."

"When we get back to London," LeClerc proposed, "you must come and dine with me, John: you and your wife; both come. I've been meaning to suggest it for some time. We'll go to my club. They do a rather good dinner in the ladies' dining room; your wife would enjoy it."

"You mentioned it. I asked Sarah. We'd love to. My mother-in-law's with us just now. She could baby-sit."

"How nice. Don't forget."

"We're looking forward to it."

"Am I not invited?" Haldane asked coyly.

"Why of course, Adrian. Then we shall be four. Excellent." His voice changed. "Incidentally, the landlords have complained about the house in Oxford. They say we left it in a poor state."

"Poor state?" Haldane echoed angrily.

"It appears we have been overloading the electrical circuit. Parts of it are quite burnt out. I told Woodford to cope with it."

"We should have our own place," said Avery. "Then we wouldn't have to worry."

"I agree. I spoke to the Minister about it. A training centre is what we need. He was enthusiastic. He's keen on this kind of thing, now, you know. They have a new phrase for it over there. They are speaking of ICOs-Immediate Clarification Operations. He suggests we find a place and take it for six months. He proposes to speak to the Treasury about a lease."

"That's terrific," Avery said.

"It could be very useful. We must be sure not to abuse our trust."

"Of course."

There was a draft, followed by the sound of someone cautiously ascending the stairs. A figure appeared in the attic doorway. He wore an expensive overcoat of brown tweed, a little too long in the sleeve. It was Smiley.

Twenty-Two.

Smiley peered around the room, at Johnson, now in earphones, busy with the controls of his set, at Avery staring over Haldane's shoulder at the signal plan, at LeClerc who stood like a soldier, who alone had noticed him, whose face, though turned to him, was empty and far away.

"What do you want here?" LeClerc said at last. "What do you want with me?"

"I'm sorry. I was sent."

"So were we all," Haldane said, not moving.

A note of warning entered LeClerc's voice. "This is my operation, Smiley. We've no room for your people here."

There was nothing in Smiley's face but compa.s.sion, nothing in his voice but that dreadful patience with which we speak to the insane.

"It wasn't Control who sent me," he said. "It was the Ministry. They asked for me, you see, and Control let me go. The Ministry laid on a plane."

"Why?" Haldane inquired. He seemed almost amused.

One by one they stirred, waking from a single dream. Johnson laid his earphones carefully on the table.

"Well?" LeClerc asked. "Why did they send you?"

"They called me around last night." He managed to indicate that he was as bewildered as they. "I had to admire the operation, the way you'd conducted it; you and Haldane. All done from nothing. They showed me the files. Scrupulously kept... Library Copy, Operational Copy, sealed minutes: just like in the war. I congratulate you ... I really do."

"They showed you the files? Our files?" LeClerc repeated. "That's a breach of security: interconsciousness between Departments. You've committed an offence, Smiley. They must be mad! Adrian, do you hear what Smiley has told me?"

Smiley said, "Is there a schedule tonight, Johnson?"

"Yes, sir. Twenty-one hundred."

"I was surprised, Adrian, that you felt the indicators were strong enough for such a big operation."

"Haldane was not responsible," LeClerc said crisply. "The decision was a collective one: ourselves on the one side, the Ministry on the other." His voice changed key. "When the schedule is finished I shall want to know, Smiley, I have a right to know, how you came to see those files." It was his committee voice, powerful and fluent; for the first time it had the ring of dignity.

Smiley moved toward the centre of the room. "Something's happened; something you couldn't know about. Leiser killed a man on the border. Killed him with a knife as he went over, two miles from here, at the crossing point."

Haldane said, "That's absurd. It needn't be Leiser. It could have been a refugee coming west. It could have been anyone."

"They found tracks leading east. Traces of blood in the hut by the lake. It's in all the East German papers. They've been putting it over the wireless since midday yesterday-"

LeClerc cried, "I don't believe it. I don't believe he did it. It's some trick of Control's."

"No," Smiley replied gently. "You've got to believe me. It's true."

"They killed Taylor," LeClerc said. "Have you forgotten that?"

"No, of course not. But we shall never know, shall we? How he died, I mean. Whether he was murdered ..." Hurriedly he continued, "Your Ministry informed the Foreign Office yesterday afternoon. The Germans are bound to catch him, you see; we have to a.s.sume that. His transmissions are slow ... very slow. Every policeman, every soldier, is after him. They want him alive. We think they're going to stage a show trial, extract a public confession, display the equipment. It could be very embarra.s.sing. You don't have to be a politician to sympathize with the Minister. So there's the question of what to do."

LeClerc said, "Johnson, keep an eye on the clock." Johnson put on his earphones, but without conviction.

Smiley appeared to want someone else to speak, but no one did, so he repeated ponderously, "It's a question of what to do. As I say, we're not politicians, but one can see the dangers. A party of Englishmen in a farmhouse two miles from where the body was found, posing as academics, stores from the Naafi and a house full of radio equipment. You see what I mean? Making your transmissions," he went on, "on a single frequency ... the frequency Leiser receives on.... There could be a very big scandal indeed. One can imagine even the West Germans getting awfully angry."

Haldane spoke first again: "What are you trying to say?"

"There's a military plane waiting at Hamburg. You fly in two hours; all of you. A truck will collect the equipment. You're to leave nothing behind, not even a pin. Those are my instructions."

LeClerc said, "What about the target? Have they forgotten why we're here? They're asking a lot, you know, Smiley: a great lot."

"Yes, the target," Smiley conceded. "We'll have a conference in London. Perhaps we could do a joint operation."

"It's a military target. I shall want my Ministry represented. No monolith: it's a policy decision, you know."

"Of course. And it'll be your show."

"I suggest the product go out under our joint t.i.tle: my Ministry could retain autonomy in the matter of distribution. I imagine that would meet their more obvious objections. How about your people?"

"Yes, I think Control would accept that."

LeClerc said casually, everyone watching, "And the schedule? Who takes care of that? We've an agent in the field, you know." It was only a small point.

"He'll have to manage by himself."

"The war rules," LeClerc spoke proudly, "we play the war rules. He knew that. He was well trained." He seemed reconciled; the thing was dismissed.

Avery spoke for the first time "You can't leave him out there alone." His voice was flat.

LeClerc intervened. "You know Avery, my aide?" This time no one came to his rescue Smiley, ignoring him, observed, "The man's probably been caught already. It's only a matter of hours."

"You're leaving him there to die!" Avery was gathering courage.

"We're disowning him. It's never a pretty process. He's as good as caught already, don't you see?"

"You can't do it," he shouted. "You can't just leave him there for some squalid diplomatic reason!"

Now Haldane swung around on Avery, furious. "You of all people should not complain! You wanted a faith, didn't you? You wanted an eleventh Commandment that would match your rare soul!" He indicated Smiley and LeClerc. "Well, here you have it: here is the law you were looking for. Congratulate yourself; you found it. We sent him because we needed to; we abandon him because we must. That is the discipline you admired." He turned to Smiley. "You too: I find you contemptible. You shoot us, then preach to the dying. Go away. We're technicians, not poets. Go away!"

Smiley said, "Yes. You're a very good technician, Adrian. There's no pain in you anymore. You've made technique a way of life ... like a wh.o.r.e ... technique replacing love." He hesitated. "Little flags ... the old war piping in the new. There was all that, wasn't there? And then the man ... he must have been heady wine. Comfort yourself, Adrian, you weren't fit."

He straightened his back, making a statement. "A British-naturalized Pole with a criminal record escapes across the border to East Germany. There is no extradition treaty The Germans will say he is a spy and produce the equipment; we shall say they planted it and point out that it's twenty-five years old. I understand he put out a cover story that he was attending a course in Coventry. That is easily disproved: there is no such course. The conclusion is that he proposed to flee the country; and we shall imply that he owed money. He was keeping some young girl, you know; she worked in a bank. That ties in quite nicely. I mean with the criminal record, since we have to make one up...." He nodded to himself. "As I say, it's not an attractive process. By then we shall all be in London."

"And he'll be transmitting," Avery said, "and no one will listen!"

"To the contrary," Smiley retorted bitterly. "They'll be listening."

Haldane asked: "Control too, no doubt. Isn't that right?"

"Stop!" Avery shouted suddenly, "Stop for G.o.d's sake! If anything matters, if anything is real, we've got to hear him now! For the sake of ..."

"Well?" Haldane inquired with a sneer.

"Love. Yes, love! Not yours, Haldane, mine. Smiley's right! You made me do it for you, made me love him! It wasn't in you anymore! I brought him to you, I kept him in your house, made him dance to the music of your b.l.o.o.d.y war! I piped for him, but there's no breath in me now. He's Peter Pan's last victim, Haldane, the last one, the last love; the last music gone."

Haldane was looking at Smiley: "My congratulations to Control," he said. "Thank him, will you? Thank him for the help, the technical help, Smiley; for the encouragement, thank him for the rope. For the kind words too: for lending you to bring the flowers. So nicely done."

But LeClerc seemed impressed by the neatness of it.

"Let's not be hard on Smiley, Adrian. He's only doing his job. We must all get back to London. There's the Fielden report... I'd like to show you that, Smiley. Troop dispositions in Hungary: something new."

"And I'd like to see it," Smiley replied politely.

"He's right, you know, Avery," LeClerc repeated. His voice was quite eager. "Be a soldier. Fortunes of war; keep to the rules! We play the war rules in this game. Smiley, I owe you an apology. And Control too, I fear. I had thought the old rivalry was still awake. I'm wrong." He inclined his head. "You must dine with me in London. My club is not your mark, I know, but it's quiet there; a good set. Very good. Haldane must come. Adrian, I invite you!"

Adrian had buried his face in his hands.

"There's something else I want to discuss with you, Adrian- Smiley, you won't mind this I'm sure, you're practically one of the family-the question of Registry. The system of library files is really out of date. Bruce was on me about it just before I left. Poor Miss Courtney can hardly keep pace. I fear the answer is more copies ... top copy to the case officer, carbons for information. There's a new machine on the market, cheap photostats, threepence halfpenny a copy, that seems quite reasonable in these dog days.... I must speak to the people about it... the Ministry .. . they know a good thing when they see one. Perhaps-" He broke off. "Johnson, I could wish you made less noise, we're still operational, you know." He spoke like a man intent upon appearances, conscious of tradition.

Johnson had gone to the window. Leaning on the sill he reached outside and with his customary precision began winding in the aerial. He held a spool in his left hand like a bobbin. As he gathered in the wire he gently turned it as an old woman spins her thread. Avery was sobbing like a child. No one heeded him.

Twenty-Three.

The green van moved slowly down the road, crossed the Station Square where the empty fountain stood. On its roof he small loop aerial turned this way and that like a hand feeling for the wind. Behind it, well back, were two trucks. The snow was settling at last. They drove on sidelights, twenty yards apart, following each other's tire marks.

The captain sat in the back of the van with a microphone for speaking to the driver, and beside him the sergeant, lost in private memories. The corporal crouched at his receiver, his hand constantly turning the dial as he watched the line tremble in the small screen.

"The transmission's stopped," he said suddenly.

"How many groups have you recorded?" the sergeant asked.

"A dozen. The call sign over and over again, then part of a message. I don't think he's getting any reply."

"Five letters or four?"

"Still four."

"Did he sign off?"

"No."

"What frequency was he using?"

"Three six five zero."

"Keep scanning across it. Two hundred either side."

"There's nothing there."

"Keep searching," he said sharply. "Right across the band. He's changed the crystal. He'll take a few minutes to tune up."

The operator began spinning the large dial, slowly, watching he eye of green light in the centre of the set which opened and closed as he crossed one station after another. "Here he is. Three eight seven zero. Different call sign but the same handwriting. Quicker than yesterday: better."

The tape recorder wound monotonously at his elbow. "He's working on alternating crystals," the sergeant said. "Like they did in the war. It's the same trick." He was embarra.s.sed, an elderly man confronted with his past.

The corporal slowly raised his head. "This is it," he said. "Zero. We're right on top of him."

Quietly the two men dismounted from the van. "Wait here," the sergeant told the corporal. "Keep listening. If the signal breaks, even for a moment, tell the driver to flash the headlights, do you understand?"

"I'll tell him." The corporal looked frightened.