A Spy by Nature - Charles Cumming [126]
‘This is ridiculous.’
‘You must be very friendly with your dry-cleaner to be on first name terms with her.’
‘I’ve spent a lot of money there. We know each other by name. It’s not that uncommon, Harry. Did you come here just to tell me this?’
In my stupidity I think that this remark may be enough to deter his questioning, but it is not. What comes next is the worst of it.
‘Does the word “justify” mean anything to you?’
His eyes scour mine and I look away down the street, my body suddenly limp with fear. I inhale deeply on the cigarette and try to think of a response. But any reply will be futile. This is over.
‘Excuse me?’
‘“Justify”?’ says Cohen, as if the effort of repeating it has annoyed him. ‘Does that word mean anything to you?’
‘No. Why?’
‘The woman on the phone. She had an Irish accent. She used that word as if it were some sort of code. Is that what it is, Alec? Just tell me and let’s get this out of the way.’
I do not know if he sees my face in the darkness with its flush of humiliation. Perhaps the fall of a shadow saves me, a simple lack of colour in the night. I can say only this:
‘Go home, Harry. I don’t know if you’re drunk or paranoid or whatever, but just go home. The word “justify” means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing at all.’
‘Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?’
‘I’m very tired. You’re getting a big kick out of playing private detective and I’m very tired.’
‘Just tell me. I’ll understand, I promise,’ he says. Then, after a calculated pause: ‘How much are you being paid?’
‘You want to be careful what you say.’
‘How much are they paying you, Alec?’
Our eyes lock in a tableau of male bravura, a standoff on a street corner. I have to deny this; I cannot betray the truth to him. I must, from somewhere, summon the energy to counter-attack. Yet I feel - as I have felt for so long now - completely worn down by him. Cohen has always second-guessed me; he has always been there, right from the beginning, hounding my every move. How did he know? What clue did I give him to allow his slight suspicion of me to develop into something altogether more serious? What was my mistake?
Again I say:
‘Go home, Harry. Get in your car and go home.’
But he says:
‘This is not going to go away.’
And now it is all I can do to stretch my panic into self-preservation. At least I can find out who else knows.
‘Who the hell else have you been spreading these rumours to?’
To ask this is an innate piece of common sense that I am lucky to have struck on. His answer will prove crucial.
‘As of this moment, nobody else knows.’
This is my only glimpse of hope and I use it to turn on him, this time with more force.
‘What do you mean, “Nobody else knows”? There’s nothing to know.’
‘We both know that’s a lie. Tonight has proved that.’
‘Tonight has proved nothing.’
I turn in the direction of my front door.
‘I’m on the Baku flight first thing tomorrow morning,’ he says, barely raising his voice. ‘By the time I get back I expect you to have spoken to David, to have put your side of the story. I’m not a rat, Alec. I will not be the one to turn you in. I have always worked on the principle that I would give you the chance to give yourself up. But if you haven’t cleared things by the time I get home, I will see to it that you go down.’
He turns to leave, without waiting for a reply, heading back in the direction from which he came.
‘This is all shit,’ I call after him, struggling to conceal my desperation. He is already turning the corner on to Uxbridge Road when I say: ‘Wait. Harry.’
He stops, making to come back.
‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow,’ I tell him. ‘Call me from the airport when you’re more clear-headed.’
He does not reply.
‘There are things you should know.’
He takes a step forward, intrigued.
‘Meaning?’
I have to do this, have to tell him at least something of the truth.
‘I know why it is that you have these suspicions. But believe me, things are not as they appear to be. You think you’re on to something, but the only person you’re going to end up hurting