The Hidden Man - Charles Cumming [74]
‘How did that happen?’
‘He invited me.’
‘He invited you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Just you? Nobody else?’
‘Just me.’ She was pretending to read the paper.
‘And how was he?’
‘Great.’
Ben moved across to the window and stared out at Elgin Crescent. He was aware of Alice chewing elaborately.
‘So did you get a story out of him? I mean, that was the point of the meeting, right? For the paper?’
‘Sure.’
‘Well, go on then.’
‘Go on what?’
‘Well, what was the scoop? Why else would you bring it up? There must be a point to this announcement.’
It depressed him that they had so quickly descended into yet another argument.
‘There’s no point to it,’ she said. ‘You’re making too much of a harmless piece of information. I just thought that you’d be interested.’
‘Well, I am.’
‘Well, good.’ Alice sighed theatrically and let the newspaper flap on to the bed. ‘We talked about your father, actually. Then we talked about Seb’s new restaurant…’
‘Seb?‘ Ben said sarcastically. ‘You call him “Seb“?’ Alice ignored this.
‘He wants me to do a feature,’ she said. ‘A big interview for the paper.’
‘I didn’t know Libra were opening a restaurant.’
‘Well, there you go. That’s why we need journalists in the world, Ben, to keep people like you informed. Anyway, it’s not Libra officially. It’s just him and his lawyer.’
‘Tom Macklin?’
‘Right.’
‘How come Mark never said anything?’
‘Well, maybe because he doesn’t know anything about it.’ Alice threw backthe duvet. Her legs looked supple and warm and Ben suddenly wanted to touch them. Her pale naked body breezed past him as she said, ‘Maybe he would have said something if you two ever spoke,’ and went into the bathroom.
‘Did you mention anything to Roth about Bone’s letter?’
‘Christ no.’ She was coming backinto the room. ‘You told me to keep quiet about that. I haven’t told a soul.’
He scanned her face for the lie as he said, ‘Good.’ For all Ben knew, Alice and Roth could have skipped lunch, booked themselves into the Charlotte Street Hotel and fucked from noon till six. That was the extent of the trust he held for his wife. He heard the lock click on the bathroom door and sat down on the bed. There were shards of satsuma skin hidden in the white folds of the duvet.
‘Well, I’ll be off then,’ he said, shouting through the door.
‘Fine,’ Alice called back.
And then he heard the hot blast of water pouring into the bath and assumed that the conversation was over.
33
For Mark, this was the spy’s life. Secret codes, surreptitious phone calls, meetings in underground car parks, the total concealment of everyday life. Joking with Macklin, smiling at Seb, and nobody at work with the slightest idea that genial, approachable Keeno was a source feeding privileged information to an officer in MI5. It was just as he had imagined it. Just as his father had described. Mark had an aptitude for spying, a talent for secrecy and sleight of hand. It ran in the family. The Keen inheritance.
And now safe houses. Randall had made contact via email insisting on a meeting on Saturday morning. Something important had come up, something vital to the operation. Mark was given exact directions from Kentish Town to an MI5 property west of the Kilburn High Road and set out shortly after breakfast. For security, Watchers posted along the route tracked him all the way to the front door. He arrived at 10 a.m.
The flat was located on the first floor of a converted, semi-detached house in Priory ParkRoad. When Mark rang the bell, Ian Boyle opened the door and smiled warmly. Only twice before in his career had Ian had the opportunity to meet the target of his own surveillance at first hand, and he was intrigued to witness Mark close-up, the full weight and presence of the man unseparated by lens or windscreen.
‘All right there?’ he said, waving him inside. ‘You find us OK?’
‘No problem,’ Mark replied.
There were flyers