but in terms of conspiracy he is what you would call a Vollidiot. Is that a plausible scenario – hypothetically?’
‘Of course it is plausible. As a fairy tale, everything is plausible.’
‘Maybe it would help if I mentioned that Shannon was received by a member of your staff named Maria Brandt.’
‘We have no Maria Brandt.’
‘I’m sure you haven’t. But it took your Station ten days to decide you hadn’t. Ten days of frantic deliberation before you told him you had no interest in his offer.’
‘If we told him that we had no interest – which obviously I deny – why are we sitting here? You know his name. You know he is trying to sell secrets. You know he is a Vollidiot. You have only to produce a fake buyer and arrest him. In such a hypothetical eventuality, my Embassy behaved correctly in all respects.’
‘Fake buyer, Reni?’ I exclaim in disbelief. ‘Are you telling me that Ed named his price? I find that hard to believe.’
The stare again, but softer, closer.
‘Ed?’ she repeats. ‘Is this what you call him? Your hypothetical traitor? Ed?’
‘It’s what other people call him.’
‘But you too?’
‘It’s catching. It means nothing,’ I retort, momentarily on the defensive. ‘You said just now that Shannon was trying to sell his secrets.’
Now it is her turn to retreat:
‘I said no such thing. We were discussing your absurd hypothesis. Intelligence peddlers do not automatically name their price. First they demonstrate their wares in order to obtain the confidence of the purchaser. Only afterwards are terms discussed. As you and I know very well, do we not?’
We do indeed know. It was a German-born intelligence peddler in Helsinki who brought us together. Bryn Jordan smelt a rat and instructed me to crosscheck with our German friends. They gave me Reni.
‘So, ten long days and nights before Berlin finally ordered you to turn him off,’ I muse.
‘You are talking total nonsense.’
‘No, Reni. I’m trying to share your pain. Ten days, ten nights of waiting for Berlin to lay its egg. There you are, head of your London Station, a glittering prize within your grasp. Shannon is offering you raw intelligence to dream of. But, oh shit, what happens if he’s blown? Think of the diplomatic fallout, our dear British press: a five-star German spy-scare slap in the middle of Brexit!’
She starts to protest but I allow her no respite, since I am allowing myself none.
‘Did you sleep? Not you. Did your Station sleep? Did your Ambassador? Did Berlin? Ten days and nights before they inform you that Shannon must be told that his offer is unacceptable. If he approaches you again, you will report him to the appropriate British authorities. And that’s what Maria tells him before she disappears herself in a cloud of green smoke.’
‘There are no such ten days,’ she retorts. ‘You are fantasizing as usual. If such an offer was made to us, which it was not, then it was rejected immediately and irrevocably and out of hand by my Embassy. If your Service or former Service thinks otherwise, it is deluded. Am I a liar suddenly?’
‘No, Reni. You’re doing your job.’
She is angry. With me and with herself.
‘Are you trying to charm me into submission again?’
‘Is that what I did in Helsinki?’
‘Of course you did. You charm everyone. You are known for it. That is what they hired you for. As a Romeo. For your universal homoerotic charm. You were insistent, I was young. Voilà.’
‘We were both young. And we were both insistent, if you remember.’
‘I remember no such thing. We have totally different recollections of the same unfortunate event. Let us agree that for once and for always.’
She is a woman. I am being overbearing and I am imposing on her. She is a professional intelligence officer in high standing. She’s cornered and doesn’t like it. I am a former lover and I belong on the cutting-room floor with the rest of us. I am a small but precious part of her life and she will never let me go.
‘All I’m trying to do, Reni,’ I insist, not bothering any longer to quell the urgency that has entered my voice, ‘is work out as objectively as I know the procedure, inside your Service and outside it, over a period of ten days and nights, for handling Edward Shannon’s unsolicited offer of prime-quality intelligence on the British target. How many hastily convened meetings? How many people handled the papers, telephoned each other, emailed each other, signalled each other, maybe not