Stewart here.’
An indescribable noise erupted from the speaker. It could have been static but more likely it was Taggart having an apoplexy. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he roared.
I looked at Elin and winced. From the sound of that it appeared that Taggart was not on my side, but it remained to be found if he backed Slade. He was going full blast. ‘I talked to Slade this morning. He said you … er … tried to terminate his contract.’ Another useful euphemism. ‘And what’s happened to Philips?’
‘Who the hell is Philips?’ I interjected.
‘Oh! You might know him better as Buchner – or Graham.’
‘His contract I did terminate,’ I said.
‘For Christ’s sake!’ yelled Taggart. ‘Have you gone out of your mind?’
‘I got in first just before he tried to terminate my contract,’ I said. ‘The competition is awful fierce here in Iceland. Slade sent him.’
‘Slade tells it differently.’
‘I’ll bet he does,’ I said. ‘Either he’s gone off his rocker or he’s joined a competing firm. I came across some of their representatives over here, too.’
‘Impossible!’ said Taggart flatly.
‘The competing representatives?’
‘No – Slade. It’s unthinkable.’
‘How can it be unthinkable when I’m thinking it?’ I said reasonably.
‘He’s been with us so long. You know the good work he’s done.’
‘Maclean,’ I said. ‘Burgess, Kim Philby. Blake, the Krogers, Lonsdale – all good men and true. What’s wrong with adding Slade?’
Taggart’s voice got an edge to it. ‘This is an open line – watch your language. Stewart, you don’t know the score. Slade says you still have the merchandise – is that true?’
‘Yes,’ I admitted.
Taggart breathed hard. ‘Then you must go back to Akureyri. I’ll fix it so that Slade finds you there. Let him have it.’
‘The only thing I’ll let Slade have is a final dismissal notice,’ I said. ‘The same thing I gave Graham – or whatever his name was.’
‘You mean you’re not going to obey orders,’ said Taggart dangerously.
‘Not so far as Slade is concerned,’ I said. ‘When Slade sent Graham my fiancée happened to be in the way.’
There was a long pause before Taggart said in a more conciliatory tone. ‘Did anything …? Is she …?’
‘She’s got a hole in her,’ I said baldly, and not giving a damn if it was an open line. ‘Keep Slade away from me, Taggart.’
He had been called Sir David for so long that he didn’t relish the unadorned sound of his own name, and it took some time for him to swallow it. At last he said, in a subdued voice, ‘So you won’t accept Slade.’
‘I wouldn’t accept Slade with a packet of Little Noddy’s Rice Crispies. I don’t trust him.’
‘Who would you accept?’
That I had to think about. It had been a long time since I had been with the Department and I didn’t know what the turnover had been. Taggart said, ‘Would you accept Case?’
Case was a good man; I knew him and trusted him as far as I’d trust anyone in the Department. ‘I’ll accept Jack Case.’
‘Where will you meet him? And when?’
I figured out the logic of time and distance. ‘At Geysir – five p.m. the day after tomorrow.’
Taggart was silent and all I heard were the waves of static beating against my eardrum. Then he said, ‘Can’t be done – I still have to get him back here. Make it twenty-four hours later.’ He slipped in a fast one. ‘Where are you now?’
I grinned at Elin. ‘Iceland.’
Even the distortion could not disguise the rasp in Taggart’s voice; he sounded like a concrete-mixer. ‘Stewart, I hope you know that you’re well on your way to ruining a most important operation. When you meet Case you take your orders from him and you’ll do precisely as he says. Understand?’
‘He’d better not have Slade with him,’ I said. ‘Or all bets are off. Are you putting your dog on a leash, Taggart?’
‘All right,’ said Taggart reluctantly. ‘I’ll pull him back to London. But you’re wrong about him, Stewart. Look what he did to Kennikin in Sweden.’
It happened so suddenly that I gasped. The irritant that had been festering at the back of my mind came to the surface and it was like a bomb going off. ‘I want some information,’ I said quickly. ‘I might need it if I’m to do this job properly.’
‘All right; what is it?’ said Taggart impatiently.
‘What have you got on file about Kennikin’s drinking habits?’
‘What the hell!’ he roared. ‘Are you trying to be funny?’
‘I need the information,’ I repeated patiently. I had Taggart by the short hairs and he knew it. I had the electronic gadget and he didn’t know where I was. I was bargaining from strength and I didn’t think he’d hold back apparently irrelevant information just to antagonize me. But he tried.
‘It’ll take time,’ he said. ‘Ring me back.’
‘Now you’re being funny,’ I said. ‘You have so many computers around you that electrons shoot out of your ears. All you have to do is to push a button and you’ll have the answer in two minutes. Push it!’
‘All right,’ he said in an annoyed voice. ‘Hold on.’ He had every right to be annoyed – the boss isn’t usually spoken to in that way.
I could imagine what was going on. The fast, computer-controlled retrieval of microfilm combined with the wonders of closed circuit television would put the answer on to the screen on his desk in much less than two minutes providing the right coding was dialled. Every known member of the opposition was listed in that microfilm file together with every known fact about him, so that his life was spread out like a butterfly pinned in a glass case. Apparent irrelevancies about a man could come in awfully useful if known at the right time or in the right place.
Presently Taggart said in a dim voice, ‘I’ve got it.’ The static was much worse and he was very far away. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Speak up – I can hardly hear you. I want to know about his drinking habits.’
Taggart’s voice came through stronger, but not much. ‘Kennikin seems to be a bit of a puritan. He doesn’t drink and, since his
