Free The Dog Who Came in from the Cold by Alexander McCall Smith Page A

joking—not at all. “You’d be astonished,” she said. “If I were to give you a list—even a highly abbreviated one—of the places in this city that are bugged, you’d be utterly astonished.”
    William looked at her with amusement. These cloak-and-dagger people, he thought—too much imagination. On the other hand, there had been those journalists who had hacked into the telephones of prominent people. How dare they? They did not even have the excuse of protecting national security—which Angelica and her people could at least advance; they had been motivated by pure salacious interest or, in some cases, a desire to humiliate and embarrass public figures.
    “But people’s private houses …,” William began.
    Angelica smiled. “An Englishman’s home is his castle? Not any more, William, not under our current masters. Remember that these are the people who want to keep a record of every mobilephone call, every single email you send, no matter how banal. The authorities want to know about it. They really do.”
    It seemed to William that Angelica was getting into her stride. What he was hearing was so unexpected, so out of the ordinary, that he sat meekly and listened.
    “And here’s another thing,” she went on. “The census. You may have noticed that there is pressure to ask people to disclose their sexual orientation in the census questionnaire. Yes, people would be asked whether they are gay or straight or whatever. What a cheek! What people are is their own business and nothing to do with the state or social researchers or anybody else really. Nothing. Sex is a private matter and adults should be allowed to do what they like without having the government breathing down their necks. And the same goes for religious beliefs. People are entitled to their private conscience, if that is what they wish.”
    William shook his head. He resented people asking him what party he would vote for, and he knew that there were people for whom that question would be only the beginning. It surprised him, though, that this was coming from Angelica. Surely the whole point of having spies—if that was what she was—was to obtain information about other people. Did a spy who believed in privacy make sense? Were there
libertarian
spies?
    “This country used to be free,” he said. “We used to be able to speak and think as we liked. We used to be entitled to a private life.”
    Angelica nodded. “I’m inclined to agree with you. I went into this job, you know, because I felt that I would be helping to protect freedom. Freedom of speech, freedom from arbitrary arrest and intimidation, freedom to walk about the place without being obliged to give an account of yourself to some officious gendarme. I really believed that.”
    “And now?”
    She looked William in the eye. “I still believe that. I still thinkthat the work we do is meant to protect our society from people who would impose their will on us. From ideologues who use violence to intimidate others. Who would impose tyranny of one sort or another on us. I still believe that …” She faltered. “Except, I think that while we’re trying to protect freedom, there are plenty of people who are busy destroying it. And they’re not doing it with threats or bombs, they’re doing it through regulations and legislation and a hundred little restrictions on freedom of thought and speech. Each of these may be small, but their cumulative effect is a massive erosion of freedom. Death by a thousand cuts. They’re hooked on getting as much control over us as they can. They’re thoroughly illiberal. They really are.”
    William listened. He agreed with her; what she said seemed very reasonable. And yet she had made this absurd, almost paranoid suggestion that they could not talk openly in his flat.
    “I can assure you that there’s nobody listening in to what is said in this place,” he said. “Corduroy Mansions isn’t bugged.”
    “That may be so,” said Angelica.