The Looking Glass War (7 page)

Leclerc unlocked the steel drawer of his desk and extracted a set of high-gloss photographs twelve inches by nine. He was smiling a little, like a man looking at his own reflection. They gathered round, all but Haldane and Avery, who had seen them before.

Something was there.

You could see it if you looked quickly; something hidden in the disintegrating shadows; but keep looking and the dark closed in and the shape was gone. Yet something was there; the muffled form of a gun barrel, but pointed and too long for its carriage, the suspicion of a transporter, a vague glint of what might have been a platform.

‘They would put protective covers over them, of course,’ Leclerc commented, studying their faces hopefully, waiting for their optimism.

Avery looked at his watch. It was twenty past eleven. ‘I shall have to go soon, Director,’ he said. He still hadn’t rung Sarah. ‘I have to see the accountant about my air ticket.’

‘Stay another ten minutes,’ Leclerc pleaded, and Haldane asked, ‘Where’s he going?’

Leclerc replied, ‘To take care of Taylor. He has a date at the Circus first.’

‘What do you mean, take care of him? Taylor’s dead.’

There was an uncomfortable silence.

‘You know very well that Taylor was travelling under an alias. Somebody has to collect his effects; recover the film. Avery is going out as next of kin. The Ministry has already given its approval; I wasn’t aware that I needed yours.’

‘To claim the body?’

‘To get the film,’ Leclerc repeated hotly.

‘That’s an operational job; Avery’s not trained.’

‘They were younger than he in the war. He can look after himself.’

‘Taylor couldn’t. What will he do when he’s got it; bring it back in his sponge bag?’

‘Shall we discuss that afterwards?’ Leclerc suggested, and addressed himself once more to the others, smiling patiently as if to say old Adrian must be humoured.

‘That was all we had to go on till ten days ago. Then came the second indicator. The area round Kalkstadt had been declared a prohibited area.’ There was an excited murmur of interest. ‘For a radius of – as far as we can establish – thirty kilometres. Sealed off; closed to all traffic. They brought in frontier guards.’ He glanced round the table. ‘I then informed the Minister. I cannot tell even you all the implications. But let me name one.’ He said the last sentence quickly, at the same time flicking upwards the little horns of greying hair that grew above his ears.

Haldane was forgotten.

‘What puzzled us in the beginning’ – he nodded at Haldane, a conciliatory gesture at a moment of victory, but Haldane ignored it – ‘was the absence of Soviet troops. They have units in Rostock, Witmar, Schwerin.’ His finger darted among the flags. ‘But none – this is confirmed by other agencies – none in the immediate area of Kalkstadt. If there
are
weapons there, weapons of high destructive capacity, why are there no Soviet troops?’

McCulloch made a suggestion: might there not be technicians, Soviet technicians in civilian dress?

‘I regard that as unlikely.’ A demure smile. ‘In comparable cases where tactical weapons were being transported we have always identified at least one Soviet unit. On the other hand, five weeks ago a few Russian troops
were
seen at Gustweiler, farther south.’ He was back to the map. ‘They billeted for one night at a pub. Some wore artillery flashes; others had no shoulder-boards at all. One might conclude they had brought something, left it and gone away again.’

Woodford was becoming restless. What did it all add up to, he wanted to know, what did they make of it over at the Ministry? Woodford had no patience with riddles.

Leclerc adopted his academic tone. It had a bullying quality as if facts were facts and could not be disputed. ‘Research Section have done a magnificent job. The overall length of the object in these photographs – they can compute it pretty exactly – is equal to the length of a Soviet middle-range rocket. On present information’ – he lightly tapped the map with his knuckles so that it swung sideways on its hook – ‘the Ministry believes it is
conceivable
we are dealing with Soviet missiles under East German control. Research,’ he added quickly, ‘are not prepared to go so far. Now if the Ministry view prevails, if they are right, that is, we would have on our hands’ – this was his moment – ‘a sort of Cuba situation all over again, only’ – he tried to sound apologetic, to make it a throw-away line – ‘more dangerous.’

He had them.

‘It was at this point,’ Leclerc explained, ‘that the Ministry felt entitled to authorize an overflight. As you know, for the last four years the Department has been limited to aerial photographs along orthodox civilian or military air routes. Even these required Foreign Office approval.’ He drifted away. ‘It really was too bad.’ His eyes seemed to be searching for something not in the room. The others watched him anxiously, waiting for him to continue.

‘For once the Ministry agreed to waive the ruling, and I am pleased to say the task of mounting the operation was given to this Department. We selected the best pilot we could find on our books: Lansen.’ Someone looked up in surprise; agents’ names were never used that way. ‘Lansen undertook, for a price, to go off course on a charter flight from Düsseldorf to Finland. Taylor was dispatched to collect the film; he died at the landing field. A road accident, apparently.’

Outside they could hear the sound of cars moving through the rain like the rustling of paper in the wind. The fire had gone out; only the smoke remained, hanging like a shroud over the table.

Sandford had raised his hand. What kind of missile was this supposed to be?

‘A Sandal, Medium Range. I am told by Research that it was first shown in Red Square in November ’sixty-two. It has achieved a certain notoriety since then. It was the Sandal which the Russians installed in Cuba. The Sandal is also’ – a glance at Woodford – ‘the linear descendant of the wartime German V2.’

He fetched other photographs from the desk and laid them on the table.

‘Here is a Research Section photograph of the Sandal missile. They tell me it is distinguished by what is called a flared skirt’ – he pointed to the formation at the base – ‘and by small fins. It is about forty foot long from base to cone. If you look carefully you will see tucks near the clamp – just here – which hold the protective cloth cover in position. There is, ironically, no extant picture of the Sandal in protective covers. Possibly the Americans have one, but I don’t feel able to approach them at this stage.’

Woodford reacted quickly. ‘Of course not,’ he said.

‘The Minister was anxious that we shouldn’t alarm them prematurely. One only has to
suggest
rockets to the Americans to get the most drastic reaction. Before we know where we are they’ll be flying U2s over Rostock.’ Encouraged by their laughter, Leclerc continued: ‘The Minister made another point which I think I might pass on to you. The country which comes under maximum threat from these rockets – they have a range of around eight hundred miles – might well be our own. It is certainly not the United States. Politically, this would be a bad moment to go hiding our faces in the Americans’ skirts. After all, as the Minister put it, we still
have
one or two teeth of our own.’

Haldane said sarcastically, ‘That is a charming notion,’ and Avery turned on him with all the anger he had fought away.

‘I think you might do better than that,’ he said. He nearly added: have a little mercy.

Haldane’s cold gaze held Avery for a moment, then released him, his case not forgiven but suspended.

Someone asked what they would do next: suppose Avery did not find Taylor’s film? Suppose it just wasn’t there? Could they mount another overflight?

‘No,’ Leclerc replied. ‘Another overflight is out of the question. Far too dangerous. We shall have to try something else.’ He seemed disinclined to go further, but Haldane said, ‘What, for instance?’

‘We may have to put a man in. It seems to be the only way.’

‘This Department?’ Haldane asked incredulously. ‘Put a man in? The Ministry would never tolerate such a thing. You mean, surely, you’ll ask the Circus to do it?’

‘I have already told you the position. Heaven knows, Adrian, you’re not going to tell me we can’t do it?’ He looked appealingly round the table. ‘Every one of us here except young Avery has been in the business twenty years or more. You yourself have forgotten more about agents than half those people in the Circus ever knew.’

‘Hear, hear!’ Woodford cried.

‘Look at your own section, Adrian; look at Research. There must have been half a dozen occasions in the last five years when the Circus actually came to you, asked you for advice, used your facilities and skills. The time may come when they do the same with agents! The Ministry granted us an overflight. Why not an agent too?’

‘You mentioned a third indicator. I don’t follow you. What was that?’

‘Taylor’s death,’ said Leclerc.

Avery got up, nodded goodbye and tiptoed to the door. Haldane watched him go.

There was a note on his desk from Carol: ‘Your wife rang.’

He walked into her office and found her sitting at her typewriter but not typing. ‘You wouldn’t talk about poor Wilf Taylor like that,’ she said, ‘if you’d known him better.’

‘Like what? I haven’t talked about him at all.’

He thought he should comfort her, because sometimes they touched one another; he thought she might expect that now.

He bent forward, advancing until the sharp ends of her hair touched his cheek. Inclining his head inwards so that their temples met, he felt her skin travel slightly across the flat bone of her skull. For a moment they remained thus, Carol sitting upright, looking straight ahead of her, her hands either side of the typewriter, Avery awkwardly stooping. He thought of putting his hand beneath her arm and touching her breast, but did not; both gently recoiling, they separated and were alone again. Avery stood up.

‘Your wife telephoned,’ she said. ‘I told her you were at the meeting. She wants to talk to you urgently.’

‘Thanks. I’m on my way.’

‘John, what
is
going on? What’s all this about the Circus? What’s Leclerc up to?’

‘I thought you knew. He said he’d put you on the list.’

‘I don’t mean that. Why’s he lying to them again? He’s dictated a memorandum to Control about some training scheme and you going abroad. Pine took it round by hand. He’s gone mad about her pension; Mrs Taylor’s; looking up precedents and Heaven knows what. Even the application is Top Secret. He’s building one of his card houses, John, I know he is. Who’s Leiser, for instance?’

‘You’re not supposed to know. He’s an agent; a Pole.’

‘Does he work for the Circus?’ She changed her tack. ‘Well, why are
you
going? That’s another thing I don’t understand. For that matter, why did Taylor have to go? If the Circus has couriers in Finland, why couldn’t we have used them in the first place? Why send poor Taylor? Even now the FO could iron it out. I’m sure they could. He just won’t give them a chance: he
wants
to send you.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Avery said shortly.

‘Another thing,’ she demanded as he was going, ‘why does Adrian Haldane hate you so?’

He visited the accountant then took a taxi to the Circus. Leclerc had said he could claim for it. He was cross that Sarah had tried to reach him at such a moment. He had told her never to ring him at the Department. Leclerc said it was insecure.

‘What did you read at Oxford? It was Oxford, wasn’t it?’ Smiley asked, and gave him a cigarette, rather a muddled one from a packet of ten.

‘Languages.’ Avery patted his pockets for a match. ‘German and Italian.’ When Smiley said nothing he added, ‘German principally.’

Smiley was a small, distracted man with plump fingers and a shadowy, blinking way with him which suggested discomfort. Whatever Avery had expected, it was not this.

‘Well, well.’ Smiley nodded to himself, a very private comment. ‘It’s a question of a courier, I believe, in Helsinki. You want to give him a film. A training scheme.’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s a most unusual request. You’re sure … do you know the
size
of the film?’

‘No.’

A long pause.

‘You should try to find out that kind of thing,’ Smiley said kindly. ‘I mean, the courier may want to conceal it, you see.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’

Avery was reminded of Oxford, and reading essays to his tutor.

‘Perhaps,’ said Smiley thoughtfully, ‘I might say one thing. I’m sure Leclerc has already had it from Control. We want to give you all the help we can –
all
the help. There used to be a time,’ he mused, with that curious air of indirection which seemed to characterise all his utterances, ‘when our departments
competed.
I always found that very painful. But I wondered whether you could tell me a
little
, just a little … Control was so anxious to help. We should hate to do the wrong thing out of ignorance.’

‘It’s a training exercise. Full dress. I don’t know much about it myself.’

‘We want to help,’ Smiley repeated simply. ‘What is your target country, your
putative
target?’

‘I don’t know. I’m only playing a small part. It’s training.’

‘But if it’s training, why so much secrecy?’

‘Well, Germany,’ Avery said.

‘Thank you.’

Smiley seemed embarrassed. He looked at his hands folded lightly on the desk before him. He asked Avery whether it was still raining. Avery said he was afraid so.

‘I’m sorry to hear about Taylor,’ he said. Avery said yes he was a good man.

‘Do you know what time you’ll have your film? Tonight? Tomorrow? Leclerc rather thought tonight, I gather.’

‘I don’t know. It depends how it goes. I just can’t tell at the moment.’

‘No.’ There followed a long, unexplained silence. He’s like an old man, thought Avery, he forgets he’s not alone. ‘No, there are so many imponderables. Have you done this kind of thing before?’