Goodbye to an Old Friend (6 page)

‘No,' said Adrian.

‘I've thought about it and considered everything. There's only the two of us to consider. No one will be hurt,' she said.

No one? What about me? Am I no one? That mental shout of protest again.

Aloud he said, ‘That's right.'

‘So we've just got to accept what's happened.'

‘Yes.'

‘Oh, for God's sake Adrian,' she shouted, suddenly, so unexpectedly that he jumped. ‘Why the hell don't you say something? I've just told you I'm never going to come back, that I'm going to live here with another woman. Isn't there any reaction? Don't you want to hit me? Don't you want to call me a whore or a queer or something? Must you accept everything that ever happens to you without protest?'

Adrian looked at her, helplessly, thoughts refusing to coalesce.

‘I'm … I'm sorry …' he tried, but she burst in.

‘you're
sorry. What the hell do you mean, you're sorry. I'm the one who should be apologizing, not you.'

Adrian could think of nothing to say.

‘I want a divorce,' said Anita, after a pause.

‘I thought you would,' said Adrian. ‘I've made some inquiries already.'

‘Will it be difficult?'

Adrian shook his head. ‘Not really. It'll just take time. Could be as long as three years, maybe more, because we haven't been living apart for very long.'

‘What have I got to do?'

‘Nothing,' he said. ‘I'll make all the arrangements. Just get a solicitor and let me know who he is, so our solicitors can start communicating.'

‘Will there have to be grounds, evidence … details about what's happened?'

‘No, I don't think so, not in open court. Our solicitors will have to know, of course.'

‘If it's necessary to provide grounds, would you do it?' she asked, suddenly, her attitude meek and pleading now.

‘What?' he frowned, unsure of the question.

‘If there have to be grounds, like adultery or something, couldn't you pay a prostitute or something like that?'

He looked at her, shocked, not because of her presumption, but her assumption that he would go with a whore.

‘Well, will you?'

‘I've told you, it's not necessary, the only reason for divorce now is the irretrievable breakdown of a marriage. And ours certainly qualifies.'

‘Sure?'

‘Yes.'

‘But if you're wrong, you'll provide the grounds?'

He'd never completely realized the depth of her selfishness before.

‘Yes,' he said wearily. ‘Yes, I'll provide the grounds.'

She nodded, satisfied. Bottles were in a trolley shaped like a miniature horsecart, near the window. She saw him looking at them.

‘Oh, would you like a drink, or something?'

‘No, no thank you.'

‘Some food? When did you last eat?'

She looked at his clothes, again recognizing the neglect. ‘No, really. I couldn't eat a thing,' he lied. ‘I had a meal before I came here.'

The door lock grated and they stopped, both looking expectantly at the entrance. Adrian saw a tall, willowy girl enter, long blonde hair looped to her shoulders. She was small-busted but surprisingly attractive. She wore a brown cashmere sweater under a Chanel suit and had hardly any makeup on. Adrian thought she was quite lovely.

‘Oh,' she said, smiling, her teeth perfect. ‘Hello.'

Adrian was confused, mentally prepared for tweeds and mannishness, suddenly confronted by such obvious femininity. Did that mean that Anita was
…?

‘Anne,' said Anita, easily, ‘this is Adrian.'

She stayed smiling and reached out. Hesitatingly he took her hand. The shake was soft and womanlike.

‘She won't bite you, Adrian,' said Anita. ‘We don't all wear trousers and smoke pipes, you know.'

‘Don't, Anita,' rebuked Anne Sinclair.

‘Hello,' said Adrian, remaining standing. He was aware of the feeling between the two women. He felt like a Peeping Tom.

‘Oh, do sit down,' she said. ‘Has Anita offered you a drink? Some brandy? Or some wine perhaps? We've got some in the fridge.'

At Eton Adrian had twice a year gone to tea in his housemaster's study and been served slightly burned scones and weak tea by the man's wife.

She had recognized his shyness and favoured him just slightly above the other boys, giving him, just once every six months, thirty minutes of favoured attention, listening to him intently, as if what
he
said mattered, drawing opinions from him and then deferring to them and Adrian had thought she was the most wonderful woman in the world. He found himself comparing her to the blonde woman before him.

‘Yes … no,' said Adrian, blushing under the attention. ‘She's offered me a drink, but I refused …'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Adrian doesn't want to put us to any inconvenience, not even one duty glass,' said Anita, the jeer quite clear.

‘Do stop it, Anita,' said Anne. She turned to Adrian. ‘Did you have any difficulty finding the flat?' she said, pleasantly. ‘We gave a housewarming the other night and some people took hours to get here.'

Just like the housemaster's tea party. A cosy room, pleasant, easily handled small talk, like a friendly game of table tennis where you lob the ball over the net towards the other person's bat.

‘No, not really. I thought it was quite easy,' said Adrian. They'd probably discuss the weather and that year's holiday, he thought. He controlled a snigger at the stupidity of it, the social conversation with his wife's lover. Unasked, Anita poured a brandy and took it to the other girl, who accepted it without thanks, acknowledging a well established ritual. For a few seconds they looked at one another and Adrian felt an interloper again.

‘We're going to have some supper in a while,' said Anne, turning back to him. ‘Why don't you stay?'

‘Thank you, that's very kind …' began Adrian, but his wife cut in. ‘But he can't,' said Anita. ‘He's already eaten and couldn't manage another thing.'

‘Yes,' agreed Adrian, reminded. ‘I've already eaten. And I have a couple of things to do tonight.'

His stomach yawned at the thought of food.

Anita is enjoying my discomfort, thought Adrian, suddenly. The bitch is gloating, happy at her odd security, enjoying my crumpled suit and filthy shirt and knowing I haven't eaten. She probably even guesses there weren't any eggs for breakfast.

‘You're staring at me,' grinned Anne and if he had been unaware of the circumstances, Adrian would have said she was flirting with him.

‘Oh, I'm sorry,' he said, flushing and regretting it. Anita suddenly became aware of the exchange and Adrian saw her go white. He wondered if Anne were playing some odd sort of love game.

Anita began to talk, trying to reduce her husband before the other woman.

‘Adrian at his best,' she said, ‘apologizing.' Anne said nothing, merely holding up an empty glass which Anita hurriedly took from her and refilled. Adrian realized that despite her apparent femininity, Anne was the dominant character. Oddly, he felt regret.

‘I think I'd better get going,' he said.

‘Oh, really,' said Anne. ‘Surely you can stay on a little longer? Why not change your mind and have a meal?'

‘He has to go,' said Anita, the jealousy obvious.

To her Adrian said, ‘You'll let me have the address of a solicitor?'

It occurred to him that it would have been easier for them to arrange the whole thing by letter. It had been Anita who had insisted on the meeting and he suddenly realized she had purposely schemed his humiliation with Anne, creating the comparison between two rivals.

‘Yes,' said Anita. ‘I'll give you a solicitor's name.'

‘You have my new number, in case you want to call me,' said Adrian, still feeling sympathy.

His wife nodded.

‘Goodbye,' he said, to Anne. She smiled and walked with him to the door.

‘Maybe I'll see you again.'

‘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.

‘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.

‘What?' asked Kaganov.

‘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.'

‘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.'

‘All right,' said Kaganov. ‘Let's use the military attaché.'

‘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?'

‘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.

‘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 …'

‘… Because of the recorders …' He was still laughing. Adrian ignored the invitation.

‘How many Soyuz missions have there been?'

‘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.'

‘How many Soyuz missions have there been?' repeated Adrian, doggedly.

‘Fifteen.'

‘Tell me about your suitings.'

‘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.

‘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?'

‘No,' said Adrian.

‘Any enterprising diplomat in Washington can work full time ferrying information back which the Americans seem only too anxious for everyone to know.'

Adrian pictured the reaction that remark would cause among the C.I.A. when they got a recording. ‘What space suit changes were made following the Soyuz disaster?'

Pavel laughed. ‘We announced that, too. Our cosmonauts no longer re-enter the atmosphere after a mission without suits, in case of minuscule oxygen leaks.'

Adrian flicked a page and Pavel said, ‘Why this change of attitude?'

Adrian didn't answer.

‘Complaints about the way yesterday's interview went?' he persevered with uncanny accuracy.

‘I'd like to talk about the equipment on moon probes,' said Adrian.

‘Wasn't anybody distressed at our obvious antipathy?'

Pavel was over-stressing the mockery. Did that show over-concern?

‘Are any more moon probes planned?'

Pavel shrugged, apparently accepting the mechanical responses of his interrogator.

‘Three,' he answered. ‘None will be manned. We plan a much bigger version of the American mooncar and much more sophisticated than our first one. It will be fitted with more automatic rock collecting and measuring devices.'

‘How much bigger?'

‘The American L.V.R. was small, only ten feet two inches long, with a 7·5-foot wheelbase powered over individual wheels with a quarter-horsepower electric motor. Ours will be at least twenty feet over a comparable wheelbase and have a midwheel section, giving total wheeling of twelve feet. It will have a payload capability of 2,670 pounds. The American only had 1,080 pounds, including astronauts.'

‘Electrically powered?'

Pavel shook his head. ‘Solar systemed, with an earth-operated electrical back-up system.'

‘How are you going to boost a thing that size into orbit?'

Pavel laughed again. ‘Typical earthbound question,' he jeered. ‘Who says you've got to construct it on the ground?'

‘Meaning?'

‘Meaning the rover vehicle, which will have a cabin rather like a caravan in which a man could operate without any protection whatsoever, will leave earth on a rocket much smaller than that of the Americans. It'll be assembled in space in an orbiting laboratory.'

Adrian paused. Everything Bennovitch had said was confirmed. But there was nothing new. ‘What else will be the function of the lunar caravan?'

‘Solar wind composition experiments, to determine the isoptric makeup of inert gases in the wind, and it will also include a laser retro-reflector to act as a passive target for earth-based lasers for calculation over a long period.'