Part 26 (2/2)

”The British Empire is the most benevolent and compa.s.sionate in the history of the world,” he recalled saying, filled with exhaustion and regret.

The Russian listened, seemed to pause and reflect.

”I would never deny that. Of course it is. Yet are you not being awfully easy on yourself? Are you really willing to examine examine the reality of it for another point of view? I think you may find the results intriguing.” the reality of it for another point of view? I think you may find the results intriguing.”

The first betrayal had been a betrayal of the imagination. Yes, with Levitsky as his guide, the major had allowed himself to imagine: imagine: imagine the Raj from the point of view of a Hong Kong coolie, making do with eleven children on less than a penny a day; or imagine the world of Johnny Sepoy, sent around the globe to die for a king he didn't know, a faith he couldn't understand, an officer he didn't respect, and five rupees a week; or a textile worker, breathing the dust of a Leeds woolen mill, his lungs blacking up, coughing blood at thirty, dead at thirty-five; or ... imagine the Raj from the point of view of a Hong Kong coolie, making do with eleven children on less than a penny a day; or imagine the world of Johnny Sepoy, sent around the globe to die for a king he didn't know, a faith he couldn't understand, an officer he didn't respect, and five rupees a week; or a textile worker, breathing the dust of a Leeds woolen mill, his lungs blacking up, coughing blood at thirty, dead at thirty-five; or ...

”The realities of empire,” said Levitsky, ”are considerably different depending upon one's proximity to the apex of the pyramid of power.” He smiled. Warmth and love poured from his eyes. He touched the major on the shoulder. The major loved the touch. He loved the strength and the courage of the man, he loved him in the way that soldiers in a trench for months on end can come to love one another, in a sacred, not profanely physical, way. Their ordeal in the cellar had joined them.

”I can feel you trying trying to understand,” said Levitsky. ”It takes a heroic amount of will. You're probably the bravest man in the world, James; you've faced death in battle a hundred, a thousand times. Yet what you do now, to understand,” said Levitsky. ”It takes a heroic amount of will. You're probably the bravest man in the world, James; you've faced death in battle a hundred, a thousand times. Yet what you do now, that that is bravery, bravery of the will.” is bravery, bravery of the will.”

The major felt the pa.s.sionate urge to surrender to the man. It was so very late and they had been together for so very long.

”Think about it. You have been offered a chance to join an elite. One does not look twice at an offer to join an elite, and to live a life untainted by corruption and exploitation. It's a powerful elixir.”

The truth is, as Major Holly-Browning knew, most men are are willing to be spies against their own country. In his way, Julian is not so extraordinary after all; treason, in its way, is quite ba.n.a.l. A careful recruiter, a Levitsky, nursing the grudge and resentment that all men quite naturally feel toward their social betters and toward the freaks of circ.u.mstance and luck that explain triumph and failure in the world, can take a clerk and manufacture a spy in a weekend. willing to be spies against their own country. In his way, Julian is not so extraordinary after all; treason, in its way, is quite ba.n.a.l. A careful recruiter, a Levitsky, nursing the grudge and resentment that all men quite naturally feel toward their social betters and toward the freaks of circ.u.mstance and luck that explain triumph and failure in the world, can take a clerk and manufacture a spy in a weekend.

The shame began to suffuse the major. He could feel it building. He was so ashamed. He had been so weak. He had yielded.

”Yes,” Major Holly-Browning had said to Levitsky in the cellar of the Lubyanka at the end of their very long trip together in 1923, ”Yes. I will do it. I will spy for you.” When he spoke, he believed it. At the center of his being, in his heart, in his brain, in his soul: he believed it.

The escape, coming by freak luck the next day, changed nothing. When eventually, after a series of colorful but now almost completely forgotten adventures, the major reached home, he had taken a convalescent leave and gone to the hills of Scotland and lived like a hermit in a cottage high up for a year. It was a place without mirrors. For a long time, the major could not deal with the image of his own face.

Now at last, with a timeless sigh, the slow and easeful acceptance of the firing squad by its victim, he rose and with exaggerated calmness walked to the table. He seated himself and looked at the object.

It was Tristram Shandy Tristram Shandy, by Laurence Sterne.

The major reached up to the lamp, deftly unscrewed and removed the bolt holding tight the shade, then removed the shade. He snapped the light on, filling the normally dark old office with unpleasantly harsh light.

He found a piece of paper, took out his fountain pen. He held the book in his hands and looked at it for some time, trying to remain calm.

Am I here?

Levitsky, am I here at last?

He opened the book to the front endpaper, where Florry had written his signature and a date, January 4, 1931 January 4, 1931, thus informing the major he had chosen to start at and use the key of four.

The major opened up the book to. He bent the covers back against the spine, feeling it break. With a straight razor he sliced the page away from the others and held it up to the blinding light from the bulb. Like a star over Bethlehem, a tiny flash winked at the major. It was a pinhole under the letter L L.

The major wrote down the letter L L. He turned four pages further into the volume and repeated the process. This time, the tiny, almost imperceptible perforation denoted the letter E E.

The next letter located was V V. And then an I I.

”d.a.m.ned queer,” said Major Holly-Browning. ”I should feel joy. Or some such. Triumph. The lightening of the load, all that. Instead, I'm just d.a.m.ned tired.” He had no desire to do anything at all, much less share his triumph with his new partners at MI-5.

”Can I get you some tea, sir?” said Vane.

”No. I think I'll have some brandy. And I'll get it. Do sit down, Vane, I insist.”

”Yessir.”

Vane primly arranged himself on the sofa, a study in rect.i.tudinous angles. Holly-Browning rose, feeling the creak and snap in his joints of so much recent disuse, and went to his side table, opened the drawer. But suddenly, he didn't feel like brandy. He wanted something stronger. He removed a bottle of Bushmill's and poured two rather large whiskeys.

”There,” he said to Vane.

”But sir-”

”No. I insist. Whiskey, Vane. It's a celebration.”

”Yessir.”

”Vane, I want you to look at this.”

”Yessir.”

He handed over the sheet to Vane, who read it quickly.

”Well, sir, I should guess that ties it.”

”Yes, it's what we've been looking for: the final, the irrefutable piece of evidence. The last c.h.i.n.k in the wall. Florry spotted Raines reporting to his Russian case officer, overheard the conversation, and took notes. d.a.m.ned fine job, Florry. Florry worked out, Vane, you know he did.”

”Yet sir, if I may, it seems to me we got awfully good service out of our man in Barcelona. Young Sampson.”

”Er, yes, Vane. I suppose I shall have to recommend that he come aboard full time now.”

”Who knows, major? He could end up sitting in your chair someday.”

”Not too b.l.o.o.d.y soon, I trust, Vane,” said Holly-Browning.

But Vane had lurched on to another topic. ”I say, sir, Florry says here, 'Step to be taken.' What can that mean?”

”You know d.a.m.ned well what it means, Vane.”

”It's b.l.o.o.d.y brilliant, sir. You took a vague young fool and made an a.s.sa.s.sin of him inside a half-year.”

”So I did, Vane. So I did.”

”I say, sir, could I have another few drops of the b.l.o.o.d.y whiskey? Crikey, it's like an old friend coming home after the war, the taste of it.”

”Er, yes, Vane. Please, help yourself.”

Vane went and poured himself a tot, swigged it down aggressively.

He turned. The major had never seen him quite so flushed and mussed before.

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