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‘It may be very Little Englander of me but I don’t take afternoon tea on the continent, not even in a good hotel like this. They just don’t know how to do it and it always disappoints if you try.’
‘So you stick to London dry gin?’
‘Only one, Candice, and it does less damage in the long run than all that coffee you Americans swill.’
The truth was, he felt like a grubby field agent anywhere outside central London. He was only truly happy at his desk with his ever-faithful secretary Gloria on guard as his gatekeeper.
Candice hadn’t come from Berlin to the Louis C Jacob for chit-chat so she got down to business.
‘Look, I came and I didn’t tell anybody ...’
‘Nobody at all?’
‘Nobody. So can we cut the crap about tea and coffee and discuss what this is all about.’
‘What did you tell them you were coming here for?’
‘I told them the truth.’
‘The truth!’
‘That an old friend from British Intelligence was unexpectedly passing through Hamburg. He knew I was in Berlin and asked if we could meet for old times’ sake to chew the fat. I asked my boss if it would be OK to take the rest of the day off. I wasn’t handling anything urgent so he said “get going but be back at your desk tomorrow morning”. I guess I may have given the impression we’d been in the sack together at some time and that I fancied one more roll. He’s something of a romantic, so here I am. But don’t get any ideas. It was just a story and it’s going to stay that way.’
The man smiled. It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but it pleased him. A James Bond stud type, he could play that part if he’d wanted to, play it well. Unfortunately the opportunity would never arise because, outside of James Bond films, the part didn’t exist.
‘Strictly business is fine by me.’
‘Then let’s get to it.’
‘I’m going to give you a name and you’re going to think about it. If the name is important to you, very important, then we’ll talk further. If the name is no big deal we’ll finish our drinks and both go home. Agreed?’
She nodded. Brits did things in funny ways, roundabout and crab-wise, but she would hear the name.
‘James Costello.’
They both sat in silence looking at each other. He had gambled that Costello was important. That was why he had started this. If he was right then he could use what he knew to become a player, maybe even a big player. But the question was, was he right? Was Costello important?
She sat there looking at him, thinking. That was good. If she needed time to think that meant he must be right. Costello was important. But was he important enough to be his ticket to the top table?
Finally she spoke. ‘I’m listening. Talk some more.’
There it was. He had something they wanted, and wanted it badly enough to deal. So now he had to get ready to pitch. ‘Why do you and the Israelis want Costello?’
The smile wasn’t because he had said anything funny, although, to Candice, what he had said could be classed as a joke.
‘Sure, I’ll tell you. Why not? Costello owes my boss and a guy from Mossad twenty bucks each from an old poker game. We both flagged him because we began to suspect he was trying to welch.’
He ignored the irony. The question had only been a way of letting her know he hadn’t a clue why Costello was wanted. Next step.
‘Would you deal to get him?’
She had to think about that one. ‘We might, but it wouldn’t be my decision. It would go way above my head.’
Whoops! Free information. The name must have really shaken her. She didn’t let it show in her face or voice, but that was a definite slip letting him know it would be a high-level decision. It was going better than he could have hoped for.
‘How would your people react to an auction?’
‘An auction?’
‘Well, Mossad want him and you want him ...’
‘And you’ve got him?’
He wasn’t shaken. There would be no free information from his side. ‘I didn’t say we had him.’
Anger came into her eyes but not her voice. ‘Then what the hell is this all about?’
‘But I know where I can lay my hands on him at very short notice.’ The anger got switched off. Now it was out in the open. Now she knew what it was all about she was back in control. That was good. You couldn’t deal with anyone who wasn’t in control. ‘My problem is that I don’t know the price I should ask. You see, it’s very hard to know what to do in a case like this when you don’t know the true value of the article you’re handling. Wouldn’t you agree?’
‘You’re right. I wouldn’t agree. So can we cut the British whimsy and you say what you came to say?’
Now she was working. Now they could get down to it.
‘I have a suggestion, one I think you will like. One I think both of us will like. One in which all parties come out as winners. Except Costello, of course. Costello is going down. The only question is, how much is he going down for? And that’s what I got us here to decide.’
The taxi made a slow pass. The house was the last in a series of bungalows between the road and the beach. There was still police tape across the entrance to the drive and the garage door still hung down on one side. This was the place. To the side of the bungalow, the woods that stood between the beach and the road began.
‘OK, take me up the road a bit then stop.’
The taxi went on about a hundred yards and stopped.
‘If I go through those woods and get to the beach is there a path back along to the houses?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where does it go when it reaches them?’
‘Along beside the beach down to the Hotel Hesselet and the Nyborg Strand hotel.’
‘And can I get back to the road easily?’
‘Sure, there are lots of places to come between the houses back out on to the road.’
‘OK, I’ll walk along the beach path. You wait about five minutes then come down the road and pick me up.’
She got out of the car and found a path. She walked through the pines and came out onto the grass between the trees and a long strip of white, sandy beach. She stood and looked out at the sea - it was very picture postcard. I might come back here in the summer, she thought, it’s a really nice spot. I can see why Bronski doesn’t want things upset.
She set off along the well-worn path in the grass towards the houses. She passed Bronski’s bungalow and walked on. She didn’t see anybody inside, but that meant nothing. She walked on past the backs of the other bungalows.
Going out from the beach at intervals were raised wooden piers with handrails. At the end of each pier were steps down into the water. The piers made bathing areas and when the tide was in the water would be deep enough to dive. She thought they looked cute.
After a few hundred yards she chose a path between two houses and went back out to the road and slowly began to walk away from Bronski’s bungalow.
The taxi pulled up alongside her and she got in. The driver turned.
‘What now?’
She looked at her watch, it was five past two. She didn’t want to sit around somewhere killing time for three hours. On the other hand, it was never a good idea to change things at the last moment. She decided it would have to be sitting it out until five.
‘My appointment’s for five. Take me somewhere I can sit comfortably and wait, then pick me up and bring me here at five.’
‘There’s a nice hotel where you can have coffee.’
‘Fine.’
The taxi pulled away and headed for the hotel where she could kill time and maybe work on how she would kill Bronski, when that time came.
‘Do we have a deal?’
‘No.’
‘No!’
‘What you have is me thinking about maybe having a deal.’
‘Look, Candice, we don’t have time to piss about on this. I can’t just sit on Costello while you keep me hanging about. Either you commit today or the deal’s off.’ It was a bold throw, it might do the trick or it might blow the whole thing out of the water. But boldness was what you needed to get to the top, boldness and balls. And he had both. ‘You don’t need to go and get any OKs on this from your boss or anybody else. It’s between you and me, and just you and me. I’ll sort Costello out for you but I want to get something for my trouble. If we’re going to set it up like it was your work, not mine, I need a pay-off that helps me with my firm. That’s only fair if you’re going to be the one who’s taking all the credit at your end; the one who found Costello and got the job done.’
She was thinking about it. He was asking a lot, but then he was offering a lot. But what he was suggesting was a high-risk strategy. The problem was, she could see no way of accepting the deal and then selling him out. If she went in on this, she would have to do it his way. He had all the cards. So, the question was, could he deliver in such a way that she would take the credit?
‘OK, just go through it one more time.’
‘Christ, woman, have you started to suffer from short-term memory loss or something? Don’t go stupid on me or I may have to decide I’m better off with Mossad.’
‘Listen, buster, I’m the one in deep shit if this goes wrong. If I want to hear it all again, I get it again.’
He sighed. This was hard work.
‘You were the one who got the call, it was you who came to Hamburg. If they’ve swallowed the story you gave them about our meeting, that could be now, this meeting. Bronski told you his story, the bomb story. He asked for your help, and here’s where we get creative: he wanted it kept unofficial, no Agency involvement, none at all. He wouldn’t budge on that. Given the position he was in, it’s quite believable. He’d come to us and asked for our help but we wouldn’t play ball because Costello meant nothing to us. So he looked elsewhere, got in touch with old contacts and came up with a sniff that the CIA were interested in Costello’s whereabouts. Through the same old contacts he came to you.’
‘That’s the part I worry about.’
‘Why?’
‘It seems thin to me and it’ll seem thinner when I tell it.’
‘No it won’t, because by the time you tell it. Bronski won’t be alive to screw it up. They’ll have to take your version because there won’t be any other.’ That seemed to reassure her so he carried on. ‘Bronski made the call but he was very cagey. He wasn’t going to risk being ratted out by your firm as part of some deal after the Costello job was over. You owed him nothing so it had to be a straight swap. He gave you Costello’s whereabouts on condition you took Costello off his back. He said if you turned him down he’d run and Costello would disappear. You’d lose him. And he wanted a quick answer, it had to be a hurry-up job. It was like it is with us today, think on your feet and yes or no. He couldn’t hang around while your people set up a committee to talk about it. The way he told it, Costello might go for him any time. You knew how important Costello was so you said “yes”, but you told him he had to let you bring in a freelance as the gun, and he would have to act as beater. You couldn’t do it yourself, first you don’t have enough field experience and second, if you suddenly went AWOL from Berlin to do the job, all hell would break loose. He said OK and you said you needed a few days to set things up. He should go home and sit on Costello and when things were ready he’d be told to drive Costello onto the gun. Not Denmark but somewhere ...’
‘Yeah, yeah. Somewhere to muddy the water. And when Bronski gets Costello to where we want him, Bronski also gets a bullet in the head?’ He shrugged as if to say, what do you think? ‘No loose ends and like you say nobody to contradict me when I claim the glory. As far as my people are concerned it will be a brilliant piece of individual initiative in the field. So who will be the gun?’
‘One of ours, someone good.’
‘So we finally get Costello. What about the gun?’
‘I told you, it will be one of ours. There’ll be no problem, not during, not after. No loose end there either.’
‘No, I guess not.’
‘And you go on up the ladder more than a few rungs.’
‘If it goes right. If it goes wrong, I go down the shit hole, and more than a few feet - in fact, well over my head.’
‘Look, if you don’t think it’ll work, say so and we’ll end it. But if you’re in, I need to know now, because I’ve got to get things lined up. Well, in or out? It’s crunch time.’
She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t fault it.
Costello dead was better than no Costello at all and they might not get a better chance.
‘What about my end?’
‘Just the way you got the call to sort. I told you, you’ll have to find a way so that you got Bronski’s call and you’ve got to invent the contact that brought him to you. He’ll be dead so he isn’t going to argue and there’s got to be enough guys like him from your past who’d fit the bill as a contact.’ She was hesitating. Was it a weak spot? ‘Look, you already said setting up a fake contact would be OK, that there’d be no problem.’
‘That was when you were telling me what this was all about. When I said that, I was only seeing where you were going. Now it’s different. I might actually have to figure something out and it would have to be watertight.’
‘For God’s sake, Candice. When we last met you were a control, you ran people and you had balls. Have you had surgery or have you been flying an office desk since then? Make a fucking decision, will you?’
He waited.
‘OK, I’m in.’
At last. He knew Candice. She still had balls all right, but this time she would be lying to her own people. It hadn’t been easy for her to agree, even though she was getting something for them that they obviously wanted very badly. He had known it would be hard work, and it had been, harder than he had expected. But he was home now. She had decided and, having decided, she would give it one hundred and ten per cent. He knew it.
‘OK, Candice, now I need something from you so that I get up the ladder as well. You know what it is, so why don’t you let me have it?’
And Candice began to pay the price they had agreed for her to climb the ladder.