Faithless (47 page)

             
"That's not a Russian," she said; "it's John Gilroy."

             
"And he is?"

             
She ignored him. "Where was this taken?"

             
"In Dublin. Our man followed them outside the club. Who is he?"

             
"When was it taken?"

             
"A week last Monday. But who is he?"

             
"He's a K3 officer."

             
Norman blustered and his face went red. "Bloody K3? They'd better not be stepping on my turf without notice. I know they're cowboys- bloody SIS - but they can't operate in Ireland without notifying me and the Garda."

             
"He's a Security Service officer."

             
"Well he should know better then. I don't agree with joint sections. We have our ways and they have theirs. We are methodical. They are opportunists."

             
"And this is a gathering place for PIRA members?"

             
"Yes. Hardcore."

             
"Do you mind if I take the photograph Norman?" she said.

             
"You can take a copy but I want the original back."

             
"Of course."             

             
"I'm going to speak to K3 about this," said Norman

             
"No, Norman. I'd rather you didn't. Please leave it to me. I will press home all your concerns. Between you and me this officer is a bit of a maverick. He'll get his comeuppance though, don't you worry."

Sue caught John the next morning. She went up when he was alone in the K3 office. He was pouring hims
elf a cup of coffee from the percolator and getting ready to leaf through his in tray.

             
"Good morning John," she said. "Could I have word?"

             
"Do I have to?"

             
Sue smiled. "No,  I could talk to K3 about it."

             
He paused - weighing her up. Then he snapped, "What is it?"

             
"Do you mind if I sit down?"

             
"Will this take long?"

             
"No, I shouldn't think so." She sat in his seat and put the brown envelope she had brought with her on his desk while she picked up the photograph of him and Karen with the girls taken when they were up in Scotland. "You all look very happy."

             
"We are."

             
"Pleased to hear it. Could I have a cup of coffee?"

             
John frowned but turned to the coffee percolator and selected a mug. "Milk?" he asked.

             
"Yes. Thank you."

             
He poured her a coffee and put the mug down in front of her with bad grace.

             
"Two sugars please."

             
"Can you get them yourself?"

             
"No, I'd rather you did."

             
He looked her in the eye and said, "What's this all about Sue? I have an agent to meet at 10:30."

             
"Sugar please?"

             
He took the mug and put two spoonfuls of sugar from the stainless steel jar by the percolator. He carefully made sure he didn't fish out the irregular brown lumps from where someone had spilled coffee into the sugar and stirred them into her mug. "Thank you."

             
"What's this about?" he said again.

             
"John, where were you a week last Monday?"

             
"Do you need to know that?"

             
She shrugged. "I merely thought an explanation might save you a lot of trouble."

             
"Trouble?" said John remembering exactly where he'd been.

             
"I ask again - where were you last Monday?" She looked meaningfully at the brown envelope she had placed on his desk. He didn't know what it contained but she seemed very smug.

             
"I was in Dublin," he said.

             
"Ah, in Dublin. Business or pleasure?"

             
"Do you need to know?"

             
"I can ask K3."

             
"I was on leave."

             
"A pleasure trip then. Nothing to do with work?"

             
He shook his head. "Nothing to do with work."

             
She laughed lightly. "Make any friends while you were there?"

             
"Not especially." 

             
"Really?"

             
"Really."

             
She picked up the picture of him with his wife and children. "You look so happy," she repeated.

             
"Can you put that down please."

             
"Of course. A happy marriage is a very precious thing, isn't it?"

             
"What on earth are you driving at?"

             
She said, "We've got a photograph."

             
His heart turned to ice. There was no way he could have been photographed with Bebur. Not unless the room was rigged by the Garda. "You'd better spit it out Sue. I'm not enjoying your cat and mouse rigmarole."

             
"Of course." She opened the envelope and pulled out a photograph of him and Eithne where Eithne was holding his lapels on a dark rainy Dublin night. He felt relief and tried not to let it show.

             
"Do you know who she is?" asked Sue.

             
"What does that mean?"

             
"I mean do you know she is an IRA sympathiser?"

             
He shook his head.

             
"You went with her to the Gaelic Club. Why are you meeting IRA sympathisers in Dublin?"

             
"If you think I'm working for the IRA, you're fucking stupid."

             
"No need to get snappy John."

             
"What on earth would I help the IRA for?"

             
"You explain why you were in the Gaelic club with this Eithne Ní Dhubhghaill" She butchered the pronunciation of her name.

             
"I met her in a bar. I just went where she took me. I'd had a few drinks."

             
She shook her finger theatrically. "The tail wagging the dog, or was it another part of you leading?"

             
"Don't be coarse."

             
"I don't think you have any room to take the moral high ground. You're an adulterer."  Her voice had become shriller.

             
John realised then that they did not know Eithne hadn't come back to his room, which meant his room was not bugged, and so they almost certainly didn't know about Bebur.

             
"If you say so. Why don't you leave now?"

             
"Does your wife know you went to Dublin to pick up women?" She gave him a lingering, bitter smile. "You really are a piece of work John."

             
"Why don't you go and fuck yourself you dried up bitch."

             
Sue went red in the face. She shouted. "You filthy little pig. I will ruin you. How dare you talk to me like that. I'll make sure your wife sees this photograph."

             
"You'll reveal a photograph taken by a secret source to my wife? If you do I'll make sure you get prosecuted for breaking the Official Secrets Act."

             
"Don't you threaten me."

             
"Don't try and blackmail me. Go. I've finished with you."

Not immediately afterwards but soon, Sue found her way to where Joe Swain was reading a surveillance report on one of his targets. She was carrying a brown envelope stamped TOP SECRET in red ink in her right hand.  His feet were up on the chair opposite. Like a guilty schoolboy he pulled them down when Sue came into the room. He realised one of his socks had a hole in the toe. "Oh, don't worry about that," she said with a friendly smile that she had practised  in the restroom mirror minutes before.

             
"Hi, Sue. How you doing?"

             
"Very well thank you Joe. You've integrated very well into our Service. How long before you go back?"

             
"About eight months left. Then I have a posting in Ottawa."

             
"Well we'll be sorry to see you go."

             
"You've still got eight months of me," he smiled. "What can I do you for?"

             
She went over and closed the office door. "Just for extra privacy you know. I'm glad I've caught you alone."

             
"Oh?" he frowned. "Sounds serious. I'm not in trouble am I?"

             
"Goodness no." she giggled, "Perish the thought! You are known for your moral rectitude. We're very pleased with you."

             
"I'm pleased that you're pleased."

             
She assumed a serious expression. "It's a very grave matter, Joe. Do you prefer Joe or Joseph?"

             
"My grandmother calls me Joseph. Joe's fine for everyone else."

             
"Good. Well Joe. " She smiled at him. "I need you to sign this." She put down the envelope on the table in front of him and pulled out a piece of paper.

             
"What is it?" he said suspiciously.

             
"It's top secret."

             
"I can see that."

             
"You need to sign it."

             
"I do?"

             
"Yes. Please."

             
He leaned over and signed the indoctrination list. It was for an operation called PIBROCH. Then he looked up and said, "So what is it - PIBROCH?"

             
"Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked.

             
"Sure go ahead. I don't own the chairs." And he added with a smile, "But if I did, you still could."

             
"Very gracious, Joe. Now, we have information that the KGB have turned one of our officers in K3."

             
"You're shitting me," he said, looking visibly shocked.

             
"Oh, no I'm not." She said, pausing for dramatic effect. "And we need your help - we being the FLUENCY committee - a joint committee of the Security Service and SIS."

             
He sat back. He regarded her cautiously. "What's my part in this?"

             
"A very important part. You know who it is. You're a friend of his."

             
"You think so? And if that's true - what if my loyalty to my friends is stronger than my loyalty to this." he pointed at the paper he had just signed. Sue was silent for a second. 

             
"Tell me," he said. "Who is it? I'm friends with nearly all the K3 officers."

             
"John Gilroy."

             
He shook his head. "No, I don't believe you."

             
"We have information from a delicate reliable source."

             
"Then the KGB are setting him up."

             
"You're a nice man Joe. I don't think you have any duplicitousness in you. You haven't suspected what a swine John Gilroy is. He has sadly taken you in because of your good nature."

             
"Bullshit."

             
She looked taken aback. "Well, I'm sorry you feel like this."