till lunchtime,” Leamas
said. They went into the little drawingroom. There were books everywhere. It was a pretty room; tall, with eighteenth
century moldings, long windows and a good fireplace. “They picked me up
this morning. A man called Ashe.” He lit a cigarette. “A
pansy. We’re meeting againtomorrow.”
Control listened carefully to Leamas’ story, stage
by stage, from the day he hit Ford the grocer to his
encounter that morning with Ashe.
“How did you find prison?” Control
inquired. He might have been asking whether Leamas had enjoyed his holiday.
“I am sorry we couldn’t improve conditions for you, provide little extra
comforts, but that would never have done.”
“Of course not”
“One must be consistent At every turn one must be consistent. Besides, it would be wrong to break the
spell. I understand you were ill. I am sorry. What was the trouble?”
“Just fever.”
“How long were you in bed?”
“About ten days.”
“How very distressing; and nobody to look
after you, of course.”
There was a very long silence.
“You know she’s in the Party, don’t you?” Control asked
quietly.
“Yes,” Leamas replied. Another
silence. “I don’t want her brought into this.”
“Why should she be?” Control asked
sharply and for a moment, just for a moment, Leamas thought he had penetrated
the veneer of academic detachment. “Whosuggested she should be?”
“No one,” Leamas replied. “I’m just
making the point. I know how these thingsgo—all offensive operations. They have by- products, take sudden turns in unexpecteddirections.
You think you’ve caught one fish and you find you’ve caught another. I want her
kept clear of it.”
“Oh quite, quite.”
“Who’s that man in the Labour Exchange—Pitt?
Wasn’t he in the Circus during the war?”
“I know no one of that name. Pitt, did you
say?”
“Yes.”
“No, the name means nothing to me. In the Labour Exchange?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Leamas muttered
audibly.
“I’m sorry,” said Control, getting up,
“I’m neglecting my duties as deputy host.Would you care for a drink?”
“No. I want to get away tonight, Control. Go
down to the country and getsome
exercise. Is the House open?”
“I’ve arranged a car,” he said. “What time do you see Ashe tomorrow-one o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll ring Haldane and tell him you want some
squash. You’d better see a doctor, too. About that
fever.”
“I don’t need a doctor.”
“Just as you like.”
Control gave himself a whisky and began looking
idly at the books in Smiley’s shelf.
“Why isn’t Smiley here?” Leamas asked.
“He doesn’t like the operation,” Control
replied indifferently. “He finds it distasteful. He sees the necessity but
he wants no part in it. His fever,” Control addedwith a whimsical smile, “is recurrent.”
“He didn’t exactly receive me with open arms.”
“Quite. He wants no part in it. But he told
you about Mundt; gave you the background?”
“Yes.”
“Mundt is a very hard man,” Control
reflected. “We should never forget thatand a good intelligence officer.”
“Does Smiley know the reason for the
operation? The special interest?” Control nodded and took a sip of
whisky.
“And he still doesn’t like it?”
“It isn’t a question of moralities. He is
like the surgeon who has grown tired of blood. He is content that others should
operate.”
“Tell me,” Leamas continued, “how are you so certain this will get us where we want? How do
you know the East Germans are on to it—not the Czechs or the Russians?”
“Rest assured,” Control said a little
pompously, “that that has been taken care of.”
As they got to the door, Control put his hand
lightly on Leamas’ shoulder. “This is your last job,” he said.
“Then you can come in from the cold. About that girl—do you want anything
done about her, money or anything?”
“When it’s over. I’ll take care of it
said. They went into the little drawingroom. There were books everywhere. It was a pretty room; tall, with eighteenth
century moldings, long windows and a good fireplace. “They picked me up
this morning. A man called Ashe.” He lit a cigarette. “A
pansy. We’re meeting againtomorrow.”
Control listened carefully to Leamas’ story, stage
by stage, from the day he hit Ford the grocer to his
encounter that morning with Ashe.
“How did you find prison?” Control
inquired. He might have been asking whether Leamas had enjoyed his holiday.
“I am sorry we couldn’t improve conditions for you, provide little extra
comforts, but that would never have done.”
“Of course not”
“One must be consistent At every turn one must be consistent. Besides, it would be wrong to break the
spell. I understand you were ill. I am sorry. What was the trouble?”
“Just fever.”
“How long were you in bed?”
“About ten days.”
“How very distressing; and nobody to look
after you, of course.”
There was a very long silence.
“You know she’s in the Party, don’t you?” Control asked
quietly.
“Yes,” Leamas replied. Another
silence. “I don’t want her brought into this.”
“Why should she be?” Control asked
sharply and for a moment, just for a moment, Leamas thought he had penetrated
the veneer of academic detachment. “Whosuggested she should be?”
“No one,” Leamas replied. “I’m just
making the point. I know how these thingsgo—all offensive operations. They have by- products, take sudden turns in unexpecteddirections.
You think you’ve caught one fish and you find you’ve caught another. I want her
kept clear of it.”
“Oh quite, quite.”
“Who’s that man in the Labour Exchange—Pitt?
Wasn’t he in the Circus during the war?”
“I know no one of that name. Pitt, did you
say?”
“Yes.”
“No, the name means nothing to me. In the Labour Exchange?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Leamas muttered
audibly.
“I’m sorry,” said Control, getting up,
“I’m neglecting my duties as deputy host.Would you care for a drink?”
“No. I want to get away tonight, Control. Go
down to the country and getsome
exercise. Is the House open?”
“I’ve arranged a car,” he said. “What time do you see Ashe tomorrow-one o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll ring Haldane and tell him you want some
squash. You’d better see a doctor, too. About that
fever.”
“I don’t need a doctor.”
“Just as you like.”
Control gave himself a whisky and began looking
idly at the books in Smiley’s shelf.
“Why isn’t Smiley here?” Leamas asked.
“He doesn’t like the operation,” Control
replied indifferently. “He finds it distasteful. He sees the necessity but
he wants no part in it. His fever,” Control addedwith a whimsical smile, “is recurrent.”
“He didn’t exactly receive me with open arms.”
“Quite. He wants no part in it. But he told
you about Mundt; gave you the background?”
“Yes.”
“Mundt is a very hard man,” Control
reflected. “We should never forget thatand a good intelligence officer.”
“Does Smiley know the reason for the
operation? The special interest?” Control nodded and took a sip of
whisky.
“And he still doesn’t like it?”
“It isn’t a question of moralities. He is
like the surgeon who has grown tired of blood. He is content that others should
operate.”
“Tell me,” Leamas continued, “how are you so certain this will get us where we want? How do
you know the East Germans are on to it—not the Czechs or the Russians?”
“Rest assured,” Control said a little
pompously, “that that has been taken care of.”
As they got to the door, Control put his hand
lightly on Leamas’ shoulder. “This is your last job,” he said.
“Then you can come in from the cold. About that girl—do you want anything
done about her, money or anything?”
“When it’s over. I’ll take care of it
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