The Human Factor by Graham Greene

officially as one state, a member of the Commonwealth, but it was difficult to regard the island of Zanzibar as British territory with its Chinese training camps. Confusion had arisen because MI5 and MI6 both had representatives in Dar es Salaam, and relations between them had not always been close or friendly.
    â€˜Rivalry,’ C said, as he opened the conference, ‘is a healthy thing up to a point. But sometimes there has been a lack of trust. We have not always exchanged traces of agents. Sometimes we’ve been playing the same man, for espionage and counter-espionage.’ He sat back to let the MI5 man have his say.
    There were very few there whom Castle knew except Watson. A lean grey man with a prominent Adam’s apple was said to be the oldest man in the firm. His name was Chilton. He dated back to before Hitler’s war and surprisingly he had made no enemies. Now he dealt principally with Ethiopia. He was also the greatest living authority on tradesmen’s tokens in the eighteenth century and was often called in for consultation by Sotheby’s. Laker was an ex-guardsman with ginger hair and a ginger moustache who looked after the Arab republics in North Africa.
    The MI5 man stopped talking about the crossed lines. C said, ‘Well, that’s that. The treaty of Room 121. I’m sure we all understand our positions better now. It was very kind of you to look in, Puller.’
    â€˜Pullen.’
    â€˜Sorry. Pullen. Now, if you won’t think us inhospitable, we have a few little domestic things to discuss . . .’ When Pullen had closed the door he said, ‘I’m never quite happy with those MI5 types. Somehow they always seem to carry with them a kind of police atmosphere. It’s natural, of course, dealing as they do with counter-espionage. To me espionage is more of a gentleman’s job, but of course I’m old-fashioned.’
    Percival spoke up from a distant corner. Castle hadn’t even noticed that he was there. ‘I’ve always rather fancied MI9 myself.’
    â€˜What does MI9 do?’ Laker asked, brushing up his moustache. He was aware of being one of the few genuine military men among all the MI numerals.
    â€˜I’ve long forgotten,’ Percival said, ‘but they always seem more friendly.’ Chilton barked briefly – it was the way he always laughed.
    Watson said, ‘Didn’t they deal with escape methods in the war, or was that 11? I didn’t know they were still around.’
    â€˜Oh well, it’s true I haven’t seen them in a long time,’ Percival said with his kindly encouraging doctor’s air. He might have been describing the symptoms of flu. ‘Perhaps they’ve packed up.’
    â€˜By the way,’ C asked, ‘is Davis here? There was a report I wanted to discuss with him. I don’t seem to have met him in my pilgrimage around Section 6.’
    â€˜He’s at the dentist’s,’ Castle said.
    â€˜He never told me, sir,’ Watson complained.
    â€˜Oh well, it’s not urgent. Nothing in Africa ever is. Changes come slowly and are generally impermanent. I wish the same were true of Europe.’ He gathered his papers and slipped quietly away, like a host who feels that a house party will get on much better without him.
    â€˜It’s odd,’ Percival said, ‘when I saw Davis the other day his crackers seemed to be in good shape. Said he never had any trouble with them. No sign even of tartar. By the way, Castle, you might get me the name of his dentist. Just for my medical files. If he’s having trouble we like to recommend our own men. It makes for better security.’

PART THREE

CHAPTER I
    1
    D OCTOR Percival had invited Sir John Hargreaves to lunch with him at his club, the Reform. They made a habit of lunching alternately at the Reform and the Travellers once a month on a Saturday, when most members had already gone into the