Goodbye to an Old Friend by Brian Freemantle Page A

with Anne, creating the comparison between two rivals.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Anita. ‘I’ll give you a solicitor’s name.’
    â€˜You have my new number, in case you want to call me,’ said Adrian, still feeling sympathy.
    His wife nodded.
    â€˜Goodbye,’ he said, to Anne. She smiled and walked with him to the door.
    â€˜Maybe I’ll see you again.’
    â€˜Maybe,’ he said, automatically.
    Downstairs the lift gave its tiny bump and Adrian emerged into the lobby. The porter grinned. ‘Not staying long,’ he said, as if he knew.
    Adrian started to ignore him, and then stopped. ‘That the Military Medal?’ he asked. The porter smiled, preparing himself for the rehearsed speech. Adrian cut him off. ‘It’s on upside down,’ he said. It wasn’t a great victory, but Adrian walked out into the night nursing a small feeling of contentment.
    â€˜I’ve had an idea,’ said Minevsky. Actually it had occurred to him several days before, but he had waited, assessing the moment of maximum impact.
    â€˜What?’ asked Kaganov.
    â€˜Why don’t we expel a British diplomat? We can create a situation around one of the embassy staff. London is sure to retaliate and expel one of our men. It will keep everything boiling.’
    â€˜Good idea,’ conceded Heirar, reluctantly. ‘Who’ll it be?’
    Minevsky shrugged. ‘Doesn’t really matter. I suppose the military attaché is the most obvious choice.’
    â€˜All right,’ said Kaganov. ‘Let’s use the military attaché.’
    â€˜What’s his name?’ asked Minevsky, not really wanting to know, but anxious to extend the recording. The other two men stared at him, curiously. ‘Haven’t the slightest idea,’ said Kaganov. ‘It doesn’t matter, does it?’
    â€˜No,’ agreed Minevsky. ‘Of course not.’

Chapter Five
    It was planned for surprise effect, the second interview coming as a complete contrast to the first, concentrating completely upon technicalities and conducted in a formal, rigid pattern, calculated to shatter any rehearsed reaction.
    A defector was never accepted as genuine until at least six debriefing sessions.
    Pavel had expected to continue the bickering of the previous day, but Adrian curtailed him brusquely. He spoke almost as if they had never met, sitting with the clipboard of questions before him, isolating himself completely from any dissension, a cipher almost.
    â€˜I have a list of questions,’ he began. ‘I’m sorry, but I am not a technical man, so I will have to refer to these notes. I won’t, of course, be annotating your answers …’
    â€˜â€¦ Because of the recorders …’ He was still laughing. Adrian ignored the invitation.
    â€˜How many Soyuz missions have there been?’
    â€˜But you must know that. They have all been made public. Surely you don’t think we’ve put some up without announcement? I thought your monitoring stations were better than that.’
    â€˜How many Soyuz missions have there been?’ repeated Adrian, doggedly.
    â€˜Fifteen.’
    â€˜Tell me about your suitings.’
    â€˜Very similar to the American Apollo EMP-A-7lbs for intravehicular operations. The suit design for extravehicular activity is almost identical to the EV-A-7lbs of the American Apollo 15 mission, but with a back-pack lighter by about two pounds.’
    It wasn’t on the form before him, but Adrian knew the questions would be asked, so he said, ‘You seem well informed of the Apollo equipment. How?’ Pavel lounged in one of the leather armchairs, completely at ease.
    â€˜America is such an open society,’ he mocked. ‘Did you know that Apollo 15 had a 157-page press kit, as well as technical releases to trade press and experts?’
    â€˜No,’ said Adrian.
    â€˜Any enterprising diplomat in Washington can