Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night by James Runcie Page B

has ever known, and now have the files on every possible MI6 member from Cambridge . . .’
    ‘The Master’s lost papers . . .’
    ‘Although, of course, those papers will be false.’
    ‘They might work that out. Don’t you think it might have been made a bit too easy for them? The Falcon was known to put his recruits through the odd test or two. That’s why everyone turned a blind eye to his night-climbing escapades and, I presume, why no one wanted the police involved. But if it was all a trap to deceive the KGB then there must still be a member of the KGB working in Cambridge; a man who has recruited both of the students who were up on the roof that night?’
    ‘I am afraid so.’
    ‘And we don’t know who that is?’
    ‘So far we do not.’
    Inspector Keating took a thoughtful sip from his pint and pulled his chair in and away from the fire. ‘I’ve never been told directly about these spying matters but even this complexity seems too straightforward. You don’t think the birds of prey could be triple agents?’
    ‘Recruited by the KGB, defecting to the SIS, but only pretending to work for them while retaining their Russian allegiance?’
    ‘Playing us at our own game?’
    ‘But what would they get out of the mission?’
    ‘A safe passage to Moscow, paid for by the British taxpayer.’
    ‘That is a possibility.’
    Keating looked at his notebook. ‘My official responsibility is quite simple. I have to decide whether the Falcon fell or if he was killed. There is still the perfectly straightforward explanation: a reckless and foolhardy man, who knows he is going to die anyway, takes a couple of students up to the top of King’s College Chapel on a snowy, and let’s also add “windy”, night and falls off. That’s it.’
    ‘I am sure that is what the university would like you to think.’
    ‘It doesn’t seem right, Sidney.’
    ‘But what is the alternative? A full-scale investigation into the workings of the British secret service?’
    ‘You are suggesting I turn a blind eye?’ Keating asked.
    ‘It is what often happens in the establishment. Inconvenient truths are best left buried. If you don’t ask too many questions of a gentleman then you won’t be disappointed.’
    ‘And this is what makes us British?’
    ‘It is our face to the world,’ Sidney replied. ‘Many of us are civilised, charming and perfectly genuine people. Others have developed their reserve into a form of refined deceit. It’s why people find the British so intriguing, Geordie. The line between the gentleman and the assassin can be so very thin.’
    Keating finished his pint. ‘It’s so much easier dealing with downright villains. At least there’s an honesty about them.’
     
    The following day Sidney decided that he would try to clear up a few things with the Master before evensong. It was another bitter night and he was hardly cheered by the fact that Sir Giles Tremlett had company. Sitting on the sofa, with one arm draped carelessly across it, was the ample figure of the British Foreign Secretary. Sidney apologised for the timing of his visit.
    ‘Not at all, Canon Chambers, you are welcome as always. I think that you two have met before?’
    ‘Only by reputation,’ the Foreign Secretary answered. ‘I think you fought with my father in the war. He was in command of your regiment.’
    ‘Ah, yes,’ Sidney replied. ‘In Normandy.’
    ‘And now, of course, we have our own battles to fight. It’s a much subtler game, this question of international diplomacy. I just was talking to the Master about our problems with the Russians.’
    Sidney was not as politically informed as he thought he should be, but he was still perfectly aware that the Soviets had rejected proposals to unify Germany and were attempting to block the Federal Government’s attempts to join NATO . ‘I am sure that the Prime Minister is concerned,’ he said.
    ‘He is always suspicious of foreign powers, but even Churchill can’t go on for