Free Charlie’s Apprentice by Brian Freemantle

and tasted earthily fresh. He was outwardly content.
    Could he make John Gower – could he make anyone – his alter ego? Charlie felt the challenge stir, the self-pity receding further. He didn’t know: couldn’t know, until he tried. But he determined to try: to accept the function he’d been given, maybe still hoping in the far back reaches of his mind that it was only temporary and that he might one day go back on to the active roster. In the meantime he’d give everything he had to turning Gower and whoever else might follow into the best intelligence officers possible.
    Having made the positive decision Charlie felt … felt what? Illogically the emotion seemed to be relief, which didn’t make any sense but was the closest description he could find. Even more illogical, it seemed that only now, on a Hampshire river bank in the early spring sunshine, picking his way through a perfect fish, had he properly realized what he’d been ordered to do. Not properly realized: properly accepted , professionally putting all his pride and resentment aside to start thinking like the teacher he had become. He would genuinely try to teach John Gower everything he’d ever learned in a bruised and battered life in the very specialized art of saving his ass. Or at least not getting his ass too badly burned.
    Charlie had intentionally introduced a day’s gap before his next contact with Gower, hoping for something to emerge from his initial encounter with the man. There was nothing official from the ninth floor when he got into his office the following day, and Charlie was disappointed, although he supposed it was too much to expect it to have happened the first time. He still wished it had.
    It was not until late into the afternoon, gone four, that the summons came from Patricia Elder. It was a different suit today, blue, but still severely businesslike. The greying hair seemed neater than the last time, and Charlie guessed she’d had it cut again. He still thought it was a mistake. The new shortness made even more pronounced the already strong features that didn’t need accentuating. There were still the two flower arrangements, although the blooms had been changed: they looked fresh. There were no folders on this occasion.
    ‘You seemed to find a lot to write about, after just one meeting with Gower,’ she said at once.
    ‘It’s a new job: I’m not sure what’s expected of me.’
    ‘The best you can do.’ The black eyes bored into him.
    Bitch, thought Charlie. ‘I considered it a security lapse, instructors at training facilities disclosing their names. Don’t you?’
    The woman lowered her head, in unspeaking concession. ‘I have already issued a memorandum, correcting it in future.’
    ‘How long has it been allowed? How long has it gone on?’
    There was another head movement. ‘I’ve begun an inquiry into that, too.’
    ‘There’ll be a lot of lying. You’ll never get an accurate figure. If I were you I’d try to find out the other way around: enquire from officers who have passed out in …’ Charlie hesitated, seeking a sensible period. ‘… maybe the last four or five years.’
    Patricia Elder sighed. ‘I’ve gone back six years.’
    ‘Good,’ said Charlie, feeling satisfied.
    ‘I am impressed, if that’s what you want to hear.’
    ‘It’s not,’ said Charlie, which wasn’t completely true: he was trying to impress this woman who for the moment had power over him. ‘What about Personnel bandying your name all over the place?’
    ‘Reprimands have been issued. It won’t happen again.’
    ‘You having every single memorandum checked, since you took up your appointment?’
    ‘ I’m not the person you’re supposed to be training!’
    Charlie noted, pleased, that there was no outrage in the protest. ‘I sent a third memorandum.’
    ‘I read it.’
    ‘And?’ Charlie prompted.
    ‘According to the security log, your meeting with John Gower ended at 3.39 pm. I received that afternoon a