The Increment: A Novel - By David Ignatius Page 0,74

been that weekend. Whatever it was, it could wait.

They had one last stop that Sunday afternoon. The third member of Adrian’s team was waiting in the very center of London, on the dirt pathway that surrounds Hyde Park. Adrian parked the Rover on the Knightsbridge side, just past the barracks of the House Guards, and led Harry into the park through Rutland Gate. The midday sun was high in the sky, its rays sparkling against the inky water of the Serpentine. They stopped at the bridle path that skirted the grass. Harry looked up and down the trail. All he could see was a handsome woman atop a sleek brown horse. She looked like an equestrienne socialite with a fancy flat in Sloane Square. Harry looked in the other direction, down the park toward the Albert Memorial, searching for the final member of Adrian’s team.

“If you please, Jackie,” called out Adrian to the woman on the brown stallion. “Get off your high horse and say hello.”

The woman dismounted and took off her black riding hat. The blond hair cascaded down her shoulders. Clad in her tight jodhpurs and high leather boots, crop in one hand and horse’s reins in the other, she wasn’t simply handsome, but quite strikingly beautiful. She stuck the crop in the waistband of her trousers and extended her hand toward Harry.

“William Fellows,” said Harry. The horse started for a moment, rearing as Harry walked toward the rider. She jerked the animal back with a sharp pull on the reins.

“Delighted,” she said.

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off the young woman.

“Jackie’s a looker, isn’t she?” said Adrian, drawing close to the other two. Rather than being offended, the woman smiled. “That’s her cover, you see, the fact that she’s so bloody attractive.”

“How so?” asked Harry. The woman was flicking the crop against her lower thigh. “Jackie seems pretty conspicuous to me.”

“Precisely.”

Adrian surveyed the area to make sure no one was in listening distance.

“That’s the whole point, my friend. Beautiful Western woman in Tehran. Traveling on a German passport. There to see her Iranian lover. A businessman who visits her hotel at odd hours. The woman goes to restaurants, parties in North Tehran. Gets up late and eats breakfast in bed. Maybe even goes riding at the Jockey Club with some posh Iranians. What could be more clear and obvious than that, eh? She fits every prejudice and stereotype held by your average Ministry of Intelligence wanker.”

“And the MOI wanker’s fear,” said Jackie. “Don’t forget that. Except they won’t know to be afraid, if I do this right. I should move around the city more or less at will. Because they will think they know precisely who and what I am. But men are so easily manipulated. Really.”

“Tomorrow at ten. Brixton,” said Adrian. “The lads will be there. We will go over the whole ops plan.”

Jackie gathered her hair and put the helmet back on. The horse had turned away from them and was munching some of the stubbly grass. She put her left foot in the stirrup and swung her body over the horse’s flanks. Her bottom was smooth and tight under the elastic fabric of her riding pants. She nestled snug in the saddle and trotted off.

“Wow,” said Harry.

“Yeah.” Adrian sighed. “She’s a peach. Brave as a lion, too. Tough sending her off on this one. It’s dangerous. She’ll be in charge. If anything goes wrong, she’ll be the vulnerable one. Not easy for me.”

Adrian shook his head and looked down at the ground. He seemed upset.

A thought occurred to Harry. He put it out of his mind, but it came right back.

“You’re not…” began Harry.

“Not what?”

“You’re not…involved with her.”

“You mean am I fucking her, Harry? Is that what you mean?”

“Well, yes. I guess that is what I mean.”

“Here’s all I will say about that, Harry boy. As I told you at dinner the other week, life is complicated. Shit happens, isn’t that your American expression? And when it happens, it happens. This isn’t America, Harry. We aren’t infected with all your politically correct cultural reeducation crap, my friend. We don’t have the same rules about not sticking your pen in the company inkwell. Here in Britain, it’s ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ for heterosexuals, too. Follow my drift?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Harry. “Whatever. I just don’t want it to complicate our operation, that’s all.”

“My operation,” said Adrian. “And it won’t.”

Harry didn’t talk at first when they were back in the car. He wanted to let the balance return