Troy waited until they stood on the tarmac at the airport once more.
‘I’ve something to ask of you,’ he said.
‘Okey doh.’
‘Can they hear us?’
‘In this wind? This far from a building? Doubt it. If there’s a listening device that can cope at this distance in the open air, I don’t know of it. In a room, no problem. Train a mike on the vibrations in the window, acts like the ear drum and you can pick up a conversation from a quarter of a mile or more. Out here, the most they could manage is a bugger with binoculars who can lipread. If you really want to tell me a secret, just button upyour collar.’
Troy did so.
‘A favour, Charlie. Years ago a Pole working for your lot told me my father was a Soviet agent. I want to know the truth.’
‘Hmm,’ said Charlie.
‘Can you find out?’
‘Do you really want to know?’
‘I’ve just said so.’
‘A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.’
‘I know, you told me. The day before yesterday.’
‘Winston meant Russia. But he might just as well have been describing your old man. I say again, do you really want to know?’
Troy said nothing. Stared at him till he cracked.
‘It’ll take a while. I’ll need to get my knees under the table. I’d have to trade a few secrets. But I’ve plenty of those. The real problem would be how could I tell you? We’d need a code.’
Troy felt momentarily helpless. This was not his world, not his vocabulary.
‘Mind,’ Charlie went on. ‘I’ll think of something. Bound to think of something.’