to West: Elvira had after all been
murdered in West Berlin .
He wondered why Control had never told him Elvira
had been murdered. So that he would react suitably when Peters told him? It was
useless speculating. Controlhad
his reasons; they were usually so bloody tortuous it took you a week to work
them out.
As he fell asleep he muttered, “Karl was a damn
fool. That woman did for him, I’m sure she did.” Elvira was dead now, and serve her right. He remembered Liz.
9
The Second Day
Peters arrived at eight o’clock the next morning, and without ceremony they
sat down at the table and began.
“So you came back to London .
What did you do there?”
“They put me on the shelf. I knew I was
finished when that ass in Personnel met me at the airport. I had to go straight
to Control and report about Karl. He was dead—what else was there to say?”
“What did they do with you?”
“They said at first I could hang around in London and wait till I
was qualified for a proper pension. They were so bloody decent about it I got
angry—I told them that if they were so keen to chuck money at me why didn’t
they do the obvious thing and count in all my time instead of bleating about
broken service? Then they got cross when I told them that. They put me in
Banking with a lot of women. I can’t remember much about that part—I began
hitting the bottle a bit. Went through a bad phase.”
He lit a cigarette. Peters nodded.
“That was why they gave me the push, really.
They didn’t like me drinking.” “Tell me what you do remember about Banking Section,” Peters suggested.“It was a dreary setup. I never was cut out for desk work,
I knew that.
That’s why I hung on in Berlin . I knew when they recalled me I’d be
put on the shelf, but Christ!”
“What did you do?”
Leamas shrugged.
“Sat on my behind in the
same room as a couple of women. Thursby and Larrett. I called them Thursday and Friday.” He grinned rather stupidly. Peters
lookeduncomprehending.
“We just pushed paper. A letter came down
from Finance: ‘The payment of seven hundred dollars to so and so is authorized with
effect from so and so. Kindly get
on with it’ —that was the gist of it. Thursday and Friday would kick it
about a bit, file it, stamp it, and I’d sign a check or get the bank to make a
transfer.”
“What bank?”
“Blatt and Rodney, a chichi
little bank in the City. There’s a sort of theory in the Circus that
Etonians are discreet.”
“In fact, then, you knew the names of agents
all over the world?”
“Not necessarily. That was the cunning thing.
I’d sign the check, you see, or the order to the bank, but we’d leave a space
for the name of the payee. The covering letter or what have you was all signed
and then the file would go back toSpecial Dispatch.”
“Who are they?”
“They’re the general holders of agents’
particulars. They put in the names andposted
the order. Bloody clever, I must say.”
Peters looked disappointed.
“You mean you had no way of knowing the names
of the payees?”“Not
usually, no.”
“But occasionally?”
“We got pretty near the knuckle now and
again. All the fiddling about betweenBanking,
Finance and Special Dispatch led to cockups, of course. Too elaborate. Thenoccasionally we came in on special
stuff which brightened one’s life a bit.”
Leamas got up. “I’ve made a list,” he
said, “of all the payments I can remember. It’s in my room. I’ll get
it.”
He walked out of the room, the rather shuffling
walk he had affected since arriving in Holland .
When he returned he held in his hand a couple of sheets of lined paper torn
from a cheap notebook.
“I wrote these down last night,” he
said. “I thought it would save time.”
Peters took the notes and read them slowly and
carefully. He seemed impressed.
“Good,” he said, “very good.”
“Then I remember best a thing called Rolling
Stone. I got a couple of trips out of it. One to Copenhagen
murdered in West Berlin .
He wondered why Control had never told him Elvira
had been murdered. So that he would react suitably when Peters told him? It was
useless speculating. Controlhad
his reasons; they were usually so bloody tortuous it took you a week to work
them out.
As he fell asleep he muttered, “Karl was a damn
fool. That woman did for him, I’m sure she did.” Elvira was dead now, and serve her right. He remembered Liz.
9
The Second Day
Peters arrived at eight o’clock the next morning, and without ceremony they
sat down at the table and began.
“So you came back to London .
What did you do there?”
“They put me on the shelf. I knew I was
finished when that ass in Personnel met me at the airport. I had to go straight
to Control and report about Karl. He was dead—what else was there to say?”
“What did they do with you?”
“They said at first I could hang around in London and wait till I
was qualified for a proper pension. They were so bloody decent about it I got
angry—I told them that if they were so keen to chuck money at me why didn’t
they do the obvious thing and count in all my time instead of bleating about
broken service? Then they got cross when I told them that. They put me in
Banking with a lot of women. I can’t remember much about that part—I began
hitting the bottle a bit. Went through a bad phase.”
He lit a cigarette. Peters nodded.
“That was why they gave me the push, really.
They didn’t like me drinking.” “Tell me what you do remember about Banking Section,” Peters suggested.“It was a dreary setup. I never was cut out for desk work,
I knew that.
That’s why I hung on in Berlin . I knew when they recalled me I’d be
put on the shelf, but Christ!”
“What did you do?”
Leamas shrugged.
“Sat on my behind in the
same room as a couple of women. Thursby and Larrett. I called them Thursday and Friday.” He grinned rather stupidly. Peters
lookeduncomprehending.
“We just pushed paper. A letter came down
from Finance: ‘The payment of seven hundred dollars to so and so is authorized with
effect from so and so. Kindly get
on with it’ —that was the gist of it. Thursday and Friday would kick it
about a bit, file it, stamp it, and I’d sign a check or get the bank to make a
transfer.”
“What bank?”
“Blatt and Rodney, a chichi
little bank in the City. There’s a sort of theory in the Circus that
Etonians are discreet.”
“In fact, then, you knew the names of agents
all over the world?”
“Not necessarily. That was the cunning thing.
I’d sign the check, you see, or the order to the bank, but we’d leave a space
for the name of the payee. The covering letter or what have you was all signed
and then the file would go back toSpecial Dispatch.”
“Who are they?”
“They’re the general holders of agents’
particulars. They put in the names andposted
the order. Bloody clever, I must say.”
Peters looked disappointed.
“You mean you had no way of knowing the names
of the payees?”“Not
usually, no.”
“But occasionally?”
“We got pretty near the knuckle now and
again. All the fiddling about betweenBanking,
Finance and Special Dispatch led to cockups, of course. Too elaborate. Thenoccasionally we came in on special
stuff which brightened one’s life a bit.”
Leamas got up. “I’ve made a list,” he
said, “of all the payments I can remember. It’s in my room. I’ll get
it.”
He walked out of the room, the rather shuffling
walk he had affected since arriving in Holland .
When he returned he held in his hand a couple of sheets of lined paper torn
from a cheap notebook.
“I wrote these down last night,” he
said. “I thought it would save time.”
Peters took the notes and read them slowly and
carefully. He seemed impressed.
“Good,” he said, “very good.”
“Then I remember best a thing called Rolling
Stone. I got a couple of trips out of it. One to Copenhagen
Similar Books
