Free Charlie M by Brian Freemantle

smiling for no reason, moving around the room without direction, nerves too tight to permit him to sit down.
    â€˜Everyone agrees,’ he announced, generally. He giggled, stupidly. The other three men pretended not to notice.
    Since the disaster of the Berenkov debriefing, Cuthbertson had always waited for an independent judgment. With Kalenin, he had insisted on two assessments and then met with the Foreign Secretary before bringing it before the full cabinet. The Prime Minister had been incredibly flattering, remembered Cuthbertson. He felt warm and knew his blood pressure would be dangerously high.
    â€˜This is going to be the sensation of the year … any year,’ insisted Cuthbertson, as if challenging a denial. He looked at the others in the office. Wilberforce probed his pipe. Snare and Harrison nodded agreement.
    â€˜Kalenin didn’t actually say anything about defection, did he?’ queried Snare, selecting a bad moment.
    Cuthbertson stared at the man as if he had emitted an offensive smell.
    â€˜Good Lord, man, of course not. But you’ve read the Moscow reports from Colonel Wilcox. He used to be in my regiment … know the man’s integrity as well as I know my own. There can be only one possible interpretation.’
    â€˜So what happens now?’ asked Harrison, pleased at the rebuff to Snare.
    â€˜He’s given us our lead. Now we’ve got to follow it.’
    â€˜How?’ said Snare, anxious to recover.
    â€˜The Queen’s Birthday,’ declared Cuthbertson, quickly, leaning back in his chair and smiling up at the ceiling.
    Christ, it was better than soldiering, he thought.
    â€˜There’s going to be a party at the Moscow embassy to celebrate it. And then there’s the Leipzig Fair.’
    Snare frowned, but stayed silent. He could easily understand how the General annoyed Charles Muffin, he thought.
    â€˜If Kalenin turns up at either, we’ll get our proof.’
    â€˜I don’t quite see …’ Wilberforce stumbled.
    â€˜Because we’ll be at both places, to speak to him,’ enlarged the Director.
    â€˜Are you sure he’ll go to Leipzig? It’ll be unusual attending a trade affair, surely?’ questioned Harrison.
    Irritably, Cuthbertson rummaged in the file, extracting the report from the trade counsellor at the Moscow embassy that had accompanied that of the military attaché.
    â€˜â€¦ “Trade is important between our two countries”’, quoted the Director. ‘… “I personally hope to see it first hand at this year’s convention … Through trade, there will be peace, not war …”’
    He looked up, fixing Harrison, who shifted uncomfortably.
    â€˜â€¦ Where’s the Easter trade delegation?’ he demanded, needlessly. ‘Leipzig, of course.’
    â€˜Will we be able to get visas in time?’ smirked Snare.
    â€˜There’s a vacancy on the embassy establishment in Moscow,’ said Cuthbertson, airily. ‘It’ll be easy to get you accredited.’
    Colour began to suffuse Snare’s face.
    â€˜So I’m going to Moscow?’ he clarified.
    â€˜Of course,’ said Cuthbertson. ‘And Harrison to East Germany.’
    He gazed at Snare. ‘Wilcox is a good man … he’ll cooperate fully,’ predicted the Director.
    Neither operative looked enthusiastic.
    â€˜This is going to stamp our control indelibly upon the service,’ continued Cuthbertson. ‘We’ll be the envy of every country in the West … they’ll come to us cap in hand for any crumbs we can spare …’
    â€˜It won’t be easy,’ said Harrison. It would be disastrous if he made a mistake, he thought. Fleetingly the vision of the burning Volkswagen and the body he had thought to be that of Charles Muffin flickered into his mind.
    â€˜Of course it won’t be easy. The Russians will do anything to prevent Kalenin from