Free Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy by John le Carré

procedure. I held out for all the goodies she’d never even talked about: cash, nationality, a new identity, no limelight, and a place to live. After all, I was her business representative in a manner of speaking, wasn’t I, Mr. Smiley?”
    Smiley glanced up as if surprised to be addressed. “Yes,” he said quite kindly. “Yes, I suppose in a manner of speaking that’s what you were.”
    “He also had a piece of the action, if I know him,” said Guillam under his breath.
    Catching this or guessing the meaning of it, Tarr was furious.
    “That’s a damn lie!” he shouted, colouring deeply. “That’s a—” After glaring at Guillam a moment longer, he went back to his story.
    “I outlined her career to date and her access, including jobs she’d had at Centre. I asked for inquisitors and an Air Force plane. She thought I was asking for a personal meeting with Percy Alleline on neutral ground, but I reckoned we’d cross that bridge when we were past it. I suggested they should send out a couple of Esterhase’s lamplighters to take charge of her, maybe a tame doctor as well.”
    “Why lamplighters?” Smiley asked sharply. “They’re not allowed to handle defectors.”
    The lamplighters were Toby Esterhase’s pack, based not in Brixton but in Acton. Their job was to provide the support services for mainline operations: watching, listening, transport, and safe houses.
    “Ah, well, Toby’s come up in the world since your day, Mr. Smiley,” Tarr explained. “They tell me even his pavement artists ride around in Cadillacs. Steal the scalp-hunters’ bread out of their mouths, too, if they get the chance—right, Mr. Guillam?”
    “They’ve become the general footpads for London Station,” Guillam said shortly. “Part of lateralism.”
    “I reckoned it would take half a year for the inquisitors to clean her out, and for some reason she was crazy about Scotland. She had a great wish to spend the rest of her life there, in fact. With Thomas. Raising our babies in the heather. I gave it the London Station address group; I graded it flash and by hand of officer only.”
    Guillam put in: “That’s the new formula for maximum limit. It’s supposed to cut out handling in the coding rooms.”
    “But not in London Station?” said Smiley.
    “That’s their affair.”
    “You heard Bill Haydon got that job, I suppose?” said Lacon, jerking round on Smiley. “Head of London Station? He’s effectively their chief of operations, just as Percy used to be when Control was there. They’ve changed all the names, that’s the thing. You know how your old buddies are about names. You ought to fill him in, Guillam, bring him up to date.”
    “Oh, I think I have the picture, thank you,” Smiley said politely. Of Tarr, with a deceptive dreaminess, he asked, “She spoke of a great secret, you said?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Did you give any hint of this in your cable to London?”
    He had touched something, there was no doubt of it; he had found a spot where touching hurt, for Tarr winced, and darted a suspicious glance at Lacon, then at Guillam.
    Guessing his meaning, Lacon at once sang out a disclaimer: “Smiley knows nothing beyond what you have so far told him in this room,” he said. “Correct, Guillam?” Guillam nodded yes, watching Smiley.
    “I told London the same as she’d told me,” Tarr conceded grumpily, like someone who has been robbed of a good story.
    “What form of words, precisely?” Smiley asked. “I wonder whether you remember that.”
    “ ‘Claims to have further information crucial to the well-being of the Circus, but not yet disclosed.’ Near enough, anyhow.”
    “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
    They waited for Tarr to continue.
    “I also requested Head of London Station to inform Mr. Guillam here that I’d landed on my feet and wasn’t playing hookey for the hell of it.”
    “Did that happen?” Smiley asked.
    “Nobody said anything to me,” said Guillam dryly.
    “I hung