A Spy by Nature - Charles Cumming [154]
‘Is that right?’ says Lithiby blandly.
This is all a part of their game.
Elworthy continues:
‘The Americans are finding it difficult to recruit new officers as well. You need fluency in two or three languages coupled with a high level of computer literacy. And if one has those as a graduate, why opt for a CIA starting salary of thirty thousand dollars when Microsoft will pay three times that amount?’
‘Mossad has the same problem,’ Lithiby replies. ‘We all have.’
Caccia looks down at the table as Elworthy moves further towards me.
‘My feeling is -‘
I interrupt him.
‘Can we cut the shit? Is that possible? We all know why I’m here, so let’s talk this thing out. Stop fucking around.’
Elworthy looks taken aback: I would almost say that he is impressed. I do not know where this courage has come from, but I am grateful for it. Nothing is said for a few moments and Sinclair takes the opportunity to place two mugs of coffee on the table. He passes one to Lithiby, but Elworthy raises his hand.
‘Listen to me, young man.’ He leans on the table, palms face down, fingers spread out like a web. ‘I will do this in my own time.’
His voice is a dark hiss: it has shifted from nonchalance to malice in a matter of seconds. Only now do I realize the extent of their anger. All of them.
‘I apologize. I’m just a little edgy. You bring me out here in the middle of the night…’
Elworthy stands again, leaving sweat prints on the red plastic surface of the table as he rises to his feet.
‘We understand,’ Caccia says, interjecting gently. He has obviously been designated to soften me up. ‘This must be as difficult for you as it is for us.’
‘What does that mean?’ I say, turning to him. I had not intended to lose my temper so quickly. ‘How can this in any way be as difficult for you as it is for me? Is your life in danger? Is it? Are your friends and family safe? Have you just fucked something up on this scale?’
‘Let’s calm it, Alec, shall we?’ Lithiby says, walking across the room towards the door. He is soon directly behind me and his presence is enough to make me want to move. I pick up my cigarette, push back the chair and stand up. Sinclair looks briefly startled. The cigarette has left a tiny nicotine smear on the plate.
‘Where are you going?’ Lithiby asks.
‘Just let me walk around, will you? I think more clearly that way.’
At some point I have accepted that this will be my last encounter with any of them. They are preparing to cut me loose. It is pointless to hold out any hope of a reprieve. There is no chance, after this, that MI5 will keep to their promise of a permanent job. That was conditional solely on the success of the operation.
‘Why don’t you tell us what happened tonight?’ Elworthy announces, his voice back to its characteristic level of flat understatement.
I inhale very deeply on the cigarette and almost choke on the smoke.
‘You know what happened,’ I tell him. ‘You heard it all. There’s nothing for me to add.’
Behind me, Lithiby says:
‘It would be helpful, none the less, if we could get a handle on things from your point of view.’
‘What, so that Barbara can get it all down for the record?’
‘You’re being very aggressive, Alec,’ he says. ‘There’s really no need.’
Perhaps I am, and this checks my rising anger. Perhaps I have read the situation wrongly and have not been summoned here simply to be mocked and fired. There may be a chance that they are prepared to notch this up to experience.
‘I don’t mean to be that way,’ I reply. ‘You can understand that it’s been a bad day.’
Caccia smiles. He is still sitting at the table, fingers playing idly with the handle of his mug. He has always looked too well-preserved, too decent and respectable, to be involved in something like this. A diplomat out of his depth, a dull foil for Hawkes. Caccia was never SIS, merely window-dressing.