A Spy by Nature - Charles Cumming [132]
‘Can you talk to Harry?’
‘Out of the question. The only people within Abnex who know the truth about you are David Caccia and Michael Hawkes, and that’s how things are going to stay. We cannot jeopardize the operation because of one man. The North Basin data is being examined by the Americans as we speak. In a matter of days they will start to act on the information contained within it. To get to that point has always been the purpose of this operation.’
‘And it doesn’t bother you that Cohen may go to the press and mess everything up before that happens?’
‘Of course it bothers me. Do you know what a scandal it would cause if we were found to be selling fake secrets to the Americans?’
‘No more of a scandal than that the Americans were buying them in the first place.’
Lithiby likes it that I’ve said this: it’s the argument that legitimizes his operation. He pushes out his lips to smother a grin that steals up on him. Then he crosses his legs and says with absolute conviction:
‘Cohen isn’t going to go to the press.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘I speak to David Caccia regularly. He has never mentioned anything about a security alert at the company. Cohen must have kept his mouth shut. And there’s no way an employee of the firm would go to The Times - girlfriend or no girlfriend - without making certain of his story beforehand. He would need to instigate a thorough internal investigation of your activities before he went to the press. If he was wrong, he would lose his job.’
This reading of Cohen’s behaviour makes perfect sense. And with the slow absorption of his logic I experience a first buzz of relief.
‘That is not to say he isn’t a fly in the ointment,’ Lithiby adds. ‘But Cohen is easily dealt with.’
‘How?’
He pauses for a moment, as if weighing up a raft of options. Then he leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head.
‘What would you say were his weaknesses?’
There’s relish in the asking. Lithiby has allowed his grin to burn through, not bothering any more to hide it. This is the part of the job that he most enjoys, slicing imperceptibly through an opponent’s Achilles’ heel.
‘Don’t you think it’s gone beyond that? Beyond playing psychological games?’
‘That’s what we’re about, Alec. Now what would you say are his weaknesses?’
‘He’s competitive. Ambitious.’
‘You see those as flaws?’
‘If you can exploit his vanity, yes.’
‘What else?’ He is unsatisfied by this avenue of thought. ‘What about his fiancee. What’s her name, this journalist?’
‘Sarah Holt.’
‘How long have they been together?’
I don’t feel like having this conversation and I am curt with Lithiby, almost rude.
‘Long enough to get engaged.’
‘Is Cohen faithful to her?’
‘John, I don’t know,’ I reply, thinking immediately of Kate. ‘I assume so. He’s that sort of person.’
‘What hotel is he staying at in Baku?’
‘If it’s the one we normally use, the Hyatt Regency.’
‘Fine,’ he says. ‘We’ll take care of him.’ Then his face seems to shut down and his appearance takes on the calm detachment of one who has access to terrible power.
‘What do you mean, you’ll take care of him?’
‘I mean just that. We will see to it that Harry Cohen no longer poses a threat to the operation.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘That will require consultation.’
‘With whom?’
I am suddenly fearful for Cohen’s safety, the first time that I have ever experienced any measure of sympathy for him.
‘It’s not your problem, Alec. You can relax. Don’t let your imagination run away with you.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Good,’ he says, in a tone close to reprimand. ‘We’re on your side. Don’t lose sight of that.’
‘You don’t need to worry about me,’ I tell him, summoning a sort of strength.
Lithiby smiles unconvincingly and takes off his glasses, polishing them on a lint cloth which he produces from the breast pocket of his shirt. Here sits a man who exists outside the usual parameters of right and wrong. I will one day be like him if they decide to keep me on. He replaces the cloth and moulds the thin,