Alec Milius Spy Series Books 1 and 2: A Spy By Nature, The Spanish Game

There are no cabs in sight, but an old red Audi curb-crawls us on the corner of Pall Mall. An unlicensed taxi. Fortner looks over nervously as the driver lowers the window on the passenger side and mutters, ‘Cab?’ under his breath. I lean down and tell him no thanks. He pulls away.

‘Did you want to go with him?’ I ask.

‘No, we’ll get a black,’ Fortner replies firmly.

And no sooner has he said this than one shows up.

‘You sure you don’t want it?’ Katharine says, kissing me on both cheeks.

‘No,’ I tell her. ‘I’m going to catch a train from Charing Cross.’

‘Well, it was lovely seeing you.’

‘Give me a ring,’ I say as she climbs in behind Fortner. I can see the slim outline of her arse and a long slender thigh taut against the cloth of her charcoal trousers.

‘We will,’ he shouts out.

It went well.

SIXTEEN

Hawkes

Hawkes leaves the country for the next four and a half months, ostensibly on Abnex business, although I am increasingly of the view that he is involved in other projects with at least one other company. In his absence my encrypted reports are sent to John Lithiby, who has not contacted me directly since the beginning of the year. I have taken this as a sign of his approbation.

There is a rumour in the office–no more than that–that Hawkes has a girlfriend in Venice. When we meet in the grey conference room on the second floor for our first debriefing of the summer, he has just returned from a ten-day break ‘in northern Italy.’

‘Nice this time of year?’ I ask him.

‘Crowded,’ he says.

Lithiby will have informed Hawkes of the progress of my relationship with Katharine and Fortner: the Sunday lunch I cooked for them at my flat in May, with the Hobbit, his girlfriend, and Saul in attendance; the night we watched England lose on penalties to Germany in a pub on Westbourne Grove; the Saturday afternoon when Fortner got sick, and Katharine and I ended up going to the cinema together. It is the record of a gradually improving acquaintance, all of it planned and analysed to the last detail.

‘John said something about a drive you took with Fortner the week before last. Could you tell me more about that?’

I have been fiddling with my mobile phone, which I now place on the table in front of me.

‘He wanted to see Brighton, said he’d never been there.’

‘Where was Katharine?’

‘Visiting a pregnant friend.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘It’s in the report, Michael.’

‘I want to hear it from you.’

I have difficulty casting my mind back to that afternoon. There is an important call coming through from an Abnex client in Russia this evening, and I am eager to get back to my desk to prepare for it.

‘It was normal. I told him about my problems at Abnex.’

‘What kind of problems?’

‘Made-up stuff. Not getting enough money, that kind of thing.’

‘Don’t overplay that,’ he says, one of the few times that Hawkes has hinted at any concern over the way I am handling things.

‘I won’t,’ I tell him, lighting a cigarette. ‘Fort likes to give me advice about the business, tells me how to handle Alan and Harry. He gets a kick out of it.’

‘Playing the father figure?’

I hesitate here, uncomfortable with the analogy.

‘If you want to call it that, yes. He likes to think of himself as someone who helps out the younger generation. He tried to set Saul up with a contact he had in advertising.’

‘Did anything come of that?’

‘Don’t think so. Anyway, we chatted, drove around, had some coffee. I managed to bring up that conversation you suggested.’

‘Which one?’

‘You wanted me to complain to them about our government doing anything the Americans tell it to.’

‘I do recall that, yes.’

‘As a matter of fact, I think I used your phrase: “We’ve been hanging on to the shirttails of every presidential administration since Franklin Roosevelt.” ‘

‘And how did Fortner respond?’

‘Coolly, I would say. That’s the word I used in my report. I told him I felt Britain had become the fifty-first American state. Ask nicely, and we’ll bomb Baghdad. Just say the word and you can use our runways. You know the kind of argument. Cut us a deal and you can borrow our aircraft carriers, our military installations. Even our soldiers, for Christ’s sake.’

‘You’re not trying to defect, Alec,’ he says suddenly, cackling at his own joke. ‘I trust you didn’t go too far?’

‘Relax,’ I tell him. ‘Fortner agreed with everything I said.’

‘And Katharine. How is she?’

‘Very flirtatious. That’s still the predominant tactic. Little arguments every now and again with Fortner, then a little glance at me for sympathy. She’s very touchy-feely. But that may be just a Yank thing.’

Hawkes straightens up in his chair.

‘Keep using the sexual element,’ he says, with the detachment of a doctor discussing a prescription. ‘Don’t go too far, but don’t shut her out.’

‘I won’t.’

‘When are you next seeing them?’