A Spy by Nature - Charles Cumming [58]
‘Not at all. Look, I’ve obviously been thinking about what I was going to tell you this afternoon. And it’s a measure of how well things went that I feel as if I have nothing of any significance to reveal. It was all very straightforward, very normal. It went exceptionally well. Fortner has a youthful side to his personality, like someone much younger. Just as you said he did. He fitted in, and if I’d invited him to the party, he would have fitted in there, too. He was making an effort, of course, but he’s one of those middle-aged men who are hanging on to something youthful in their nature.’
Hawkes folds his arms.
‘So it wasn’t at all awkward,’ I tell him. ‘When we were having the drink beforehand, we talked like we were old friends. It was a boys’ night out.’
‘And how do you want to play it now?’
‘My instinct is that they’ll call.’
‘Why do you think that?’
‘Because he likes me. Isn’t that what you wanted?’
No reaction. Hawkes is assessing whether or not I have read the situation correctly.
I continue:
‘He left saying that Katharine wanted to have dinner sometime. He also wants to introduce Saul to a friend of his in advertising who used to be an actor. He’s interested, believe me.’
‘But in Saul or in you?’
‘What do you think?’
‘That’s what I’m asking,’ he says, not impatiently.
‘Look. Saul has a lot of friends. Far more than I do. He likes Fortner, they laugh at each other’s jokes. But there’s no connection between them. Saul will fall by the wayside and resume his day-to-day life without even realizing he has brought the Americans to me. And then it’ll just be the three of us.’
14
The Call
Exactly two weeks later, at around three o’clock in the afternoon, JT walks over to my desk and presses a single sheet of Abnex-headed paper into my hand.
‘You seen this?’ he says.
‘What is it?’
I save the file on my computer and turn to him.
‘New staff memo. Unbelievable.’
I begin to read.
While Abnex Oil fully respects the privacy of employees’ personal affairs it expects them to discharge fully their obligations of service to the company. It also requires them to be law-abiding, both inside and outside working hours. Remember that any indiscreet and/or anti-social behaviour could not only affect an employee’s performance and position, but also reflect badly on Abnex Oil.
‘Jesus,’ I mutter.
‘Too right, Jesus. Fucking nanny state.’
‘Next they’ll be telling us what to eat.’
Cohen’s desk faces mine: we work staring into one another’s eyes. He looks up from his computer terminal and says:
‘What is that?’
‘New memo. Just came up from personnel,’ JT tells him. ‘Call it up on your e-mail. They’ve labelled it urgent. Some big-brother piece of shit instructing employees on how to conduct their private lives. Fucking disgrace.’
‘Did you manage to get those figures I asked you for at lunch?’ Cohen asks him, ignoring the complaint entirely. He will not tolerate any hint of dissent on the team.
‘No. I can’t seem to get hold of the guy in Ankara.’
‘Well will you keep trying, please? They’ll be closing up and going home now.’
‘Sure.’
JT, suitably rebuked and sheepish, slopes back to his desk and picks up the phone. He leaves the memo beside my computer and I slide it into a drawer.
All seven members of the team, including Murray and Cohen, share a secretary. Tanya is an anglophone Canadian from Montreal with strong views on Quebec separatism and a boyfriend called Dan. She is big-boned, thick-set and straightforward, and has been with the company since it started. Tanya wears a lot of make-up and piles her hair up high in a thick ebony bunch which she never lets down.
‘Only Dan gets to see my hair,’ she says.
No one has ever met Dan.
At half past three the telephone rings on my desk.
‘Who is it, Tanya?’ I call out.
‘Someone from Andromeda.’
I think that it may be the Hobbit, but then she says:
‘Name’s Katharine Lanchester. You want me to take a message?’
Cohen looks up, just a half-glance, registering the name.
‘No. I’ll take it.’
I was a day away, no more, from calling them myself.