Peggy was being so solicitous that Liz found herself growing impatient. ‘I’m fine,’ she protested again in the face of her junior colleague’s repeated offers of aspirin, ibuprofen, paracetamol. ‘If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to call the Drug Squad.’
Mercifully, Charles Wetherby appeared in the doorway and Peggy went back to her desk.
‘Liz, Tyrus Oakes is flying in from Washington. He’s due here at ten tomorrow morning, and I’d like you to join the meeting.’
‘That was quick,’ she said. Wetherby had only been back from Washington two days.
He nodded. ‘I think we’ll be getting an answer this time, or he wouldn’t be taking the trouble to come in person.’
The next morning, when she entered Wetherby’s office, she was unsurprised to find a stranger sitting there, but she was utterly astonished to find Andy Bokus with him. What on earth was going on?
Wetherby made the introductions. Tyrus Oakes looked dapper in a grey summer suit. He exuded the old-style charm of a Southern plantation owner – he shook her hand, gave a gallant little bow, then pulled back a chair for her. Wetherby watched the performance with barely suppressed amusement. Bokus, looking hot in a khaki suit, just nodded at Liz. ‘We’ve met,’ he said curtly.
‘Good to see you, Charles,’ Oakes said affably as they all sat down again. ‘As I promised, I’ve come with an explanation and to clear up a misunderstanding.’
Wetherby’s eyebrow lifted, almost imperceptibly. ‘Thank you,’ he said mildly. ‘That’s good.’
The thoughts flashing through Liz’s mind were less charitable. Were they questioning the authenticity of the photographs she saw lying on Wetherby’s desk? It was certainly true that thanks to computer technology, pictures could tell all sorts of lies: you could morph images to seat people next to each other when in fact they were on different continents; you could delete whole mountains from landscapes, or remove entire buildings from an urban panorama. But in this case the camera was telling the undeniable truth: Andy Bokus was sitting next to a suspected Mossad officer at the Oval cricket ground.
Or would Oakes try and suggest that Bokus had run into the Mossad man ‘by accident’?
Oakes said, ‘What I am about to tell you is of course completely confidential and I hope I can count on its remaining that way.’
Wetherby said sharply, ‘We are looking forward to what you have to say. To put your mind at rest, Liz is here because she is in charge of our investigation of the Israeli trade attaché in the pictures. As I told you in Washington, Ty, we have reason to suspect he is not a trade attaché at all. ‘He pointed to the incriminating photographs on his desk. ‘That’s how these came to be taken. She has also been liaising with your chap Brookhaven about this Syrian business and the Gleneagles conference.’
Oakes said, ‘My concern is not about who knows what here in MI5 or in MI6. It’s to do with the Israelis.’ When Wetherby looked at him questioningly, Oakes explained, ‘What I’m saying Charles is that yes, your people saw Andy meeting with a Mossad officer – Kollek.’
Wetherby didn’t say anything. Liz noticed Bokus had reddened and was looking uncomfortable, like an oversized schoolboy who’d been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.
Oakes said, ‘What the photographs don’t show is that he’s our agent.’
Silence fell over the room. Wetherby looked stunned. ‘You’re running a Mossad officer in London?’ he asked at last. His surprise was undisguised.
‘That’s right. And until these came to light’ – Oakes pointed to the photographs – ‘this was a very closely held operation. Only a very few in the Agency knew of it. As you’ll well understand, this type of operation is our most sensitive.’
‘Quite,’ said Wetherby crisply. ‘Thank you for being frank with us. I’ll need to inform DG of course and Geoffrey Fane, who is aware of the photographs and has I think been frank with you about other things.’ He glanced momentarily at Bokus, then looked back at Oakes with a steady gaze. ‘But there’s no need for anyone else outside this room to be told. Though there are some things we’d like to know about this agent you’re running under our noses,’ he said with the slightest of smiles.
‘Such as?’ said Bokus, speaking for the first time.
‘Why is Kollek undeclared by the Israelis? There has to be a reason or they’d never do it – Mossad knows what our reaction would be if we discovered they had an undercover officer operating here. What is Kollek doing that’s so important for them to take the risk?’
Oakes looked over at Bokus and nodded. The big man was sweating slightly, and he hunched his shoulders and leaned forward as he said, ‘Kollek’s role here is to look after Mossad sources living in the UK, or passing through. He’s their local point of contact.’
‘How long has he been working for you?’ Liz asked.
Bokus shrugged. ‘Not long. Maybe nine months, a year.’
Wetherby was rolling a pencil in his fingers, considering this. ‘May I ask what his motivation is for working for you?’
‘He made the approach.’ Bokus seemed unabashed. He’s regaining his confidence, thought Liz, now that he knows he’s in the clear.
‘What reason did he give?’ asked Wetherby. Liz was glad to see he was taking nothing on faith. He added with a hint of acidity, ‘Or was it money?’
‘Good God no,’ Oakes interjected, with what Liz felt was contrived horror. ‘I’m not exactly sure of his motives. Andy?’ He turned to his head of station.
Bokus put a large hand under his chin, pensive. ‘I think he feels things are moving too slowly in the Middle East for there ever to be peace. He sees things getting worse. He thinks it will take America to make his leaders move, and unless we have the full picture that’s not going to happen.’
Wetherby asked, ‘And how is he helping to paint this “full picture”?’
When neither American answered, Wetherby stared down at his pencil dourly. He seemed to be avoiding looking directly at Oakes, as if not to challenge him unnecessarily. But when he spoke his voice was firm: ‘I said you can count on our discretion, Ty. But in return we need to hear what Kollek is telling you. He’s operating in our territory undeclared – both by the Israelis and by you – in a clear breach of protocol,’ he said, raising his eyes now and staring fixedly at Oakes.
Liz understood what Wetherby was getting at: a quid pro quo. They’d say nothing to the Israelis, but in return the Americans would relay the information they got from Kollek.
Bokus hunched down further in his chair, but Oakes looked entirely unfazed. He might have been at a golf club committee meeting, discussing an application for membership. ‘Of course,’ he said rapidly – too rapidly, thought Liz, who knew they would get only selected excerpts of Kollek’s information. Still, excerpts were better than nothing.
Oakes turned again to Bokus. ‘Why don’t you start the ball rolling, Andy?’
Bokus reached for his briefcase and brought out a file. He extracted a single page and handed it across the desk to Wetherby. ‘These are the people he’s been running in London.’
Wetherby scanned it intently, then handed it across his desk to Liz.
There were six names. Liz had never come across any of them, though two were international businessmen she’d heard of, and a third was a Russian exile who was always in the press. She looked at Wetherby and shrugged.
‘Are they known to you?’ asked Oakes a little anxiously.
‘I’ll have to check,’ she said. ‘Obviously, I’ve heard of some of them.’ She looked at Wetherby, who nodded to confirm this. Then she pointed a finger at the sheet. ‘Markov owns a football team in the north. His personal life is always in the papers – I’m surprised he has time to talk to Mossad.’
Wetherby put his pencil down. ‘What sort of intelligence are these people providing?’
Bokus didn’t answer, letting Oakes reply. ‘Well, it’s early days, Charles. Certainly nothing very dramatic has come down the pike to us yet. Nothing about the UK or of course we’d have made sure you had it… in one way or another.’ Wetherby inclined his head minutely in acknowledgement. ‘But we can brief you in more detail if you like.’ He looked at Bokus. ‘If Miles is the liaison with Miss Carlyle here, why don’t we have him come over and take her through your reports on Kollek?’
Bokus nodded, though Liz could see that he was not at all delighted by the idea of Miles being involved. From the sound of it, there wouldn’t be much for Miles to tell her, but Liz’s thoughts in any case were focused on something else. It was not the names on the list that had caught her attention, but the names that weren’t there. Sami Veshara wasn’t there – perhaps not so surprising as he’d told Charles he only met the Israelis in Tel Aviv – but nor was Hannah Gold. What did that mean? Perhaps I was wrong, she thought. Maybe Kollek had no ulterior motive for his careful courting of Sophie Margolis’s mother-in-law. Perhaps it was just friendship, as Hannah had said. Even intelligence officers need friends, she told herself. Though from what she knew of Kollek, sentiment played little part in his character.
Liz tuned in to the conversation again to hear Wetherby saying to Ty, ‘That will be fine.’
‘How often do you meet Kollek?’ she asked Bokus, her mind still on Hannah.
The big American looked annoyed by the question. When Oakes didn’t come to his rescue, he replied tersely, ‘Once a month. Sometimes less often.’
A sudden intuition made her follow this up – she could not have said why. ‘Before your meeting at the Oval, when was the last time you’d seen him?’
Now Bokus’s irritation was obvious. He hesitated, then said crossly, ‘Not since June. He was away for a while.’
There was a brief silence, which Wetherby ended. ‘Anything else we need to discuss, Ty?’
‘There is one thing. As Andy can testify, Kollek is kind of a nervous guy, very careful, almost to the point of paranoia. If he had an inkling of this conversation we’ve been having, then I think he’d stop talking to us right away. Isn’t that right, Andy?’
Bokus’s big head nodded vigorously. ‘Tighter than a clam.’
‘I told you, knowledge of this meeting is going to be very restricted,’ Wetherby said, adding pointedly, ‘There’s no possibility of a leak from our end.’
‘Sure. But it would also be helpful if you could call off your surveillance of Kollek. It’d be a disaster if he spotted it, and this guy’s a real pro. If he thought he was being watched he’d assume we’d told you about him. And anyway, I can’t really see that surveillance would serve any useful purpose now, not when you know we’re running him.’
Charles digested this for a moment. ‘All right. I’ll put that in hand.’
After the Americans had gone, Liz stayed behind. Wetherby stood up and took off his suit jacket, hanging it around the back of his chair. He walked over to the window and looked down at the Thames. ‘So what do you make of that?’ he asked.
‘I suppose they felt they had to come clean. Ty Oakes must have seen he had no option – otherwise, we’d think his London head of station was playing away.’
‘As we did for a moment, yes. Though as you’d expect Ty put as good a face on it as he could. He did his best to make it look as if he was here to cut a deal.’
‘Even though he wasn’t holding any cards to speak of.’
‘Exactly. I’m told Oakes loves a game of poker.’ Wetherby gave a brief smile. ‘You have to admire his brio. Ty’s a great survivor.’
‘I can see why. But I’m not sure Andy Bokus was very happy. He must have felt completely exposed. He won’t choose a meeting place as public as the Oval next time.’
Wetherby gave a happy laugh. ‘Probably it was its public nature that appealed to him. Wasn’t it Sherlock Holmes who claimed that if you want to hide in a crowded drawing room, you should sit on the sofa in plain view, while the people looking for you are scouring the corners and poking the curtains?’
‘That’s wonderful advice, until one of them gets tired and sits down on the sofa right next to you.’
Wetherby gave an appreciative grin. ‘Now you know why I can’t take detective stories seriously.’
‘What I don’t quite understand is how this connects to the Syrian threat. If at all.’
‘I think we should assume that Bokus told Kollek more than he should have. Obviously with us, he wanted to act as if he was in complete control, and information was passing strictly one way. But I doubt it, somehow. I got the feeling Bokus is a lot closer to Kollek than he was willing to let on. I’ll need to find out exactly what Geoffrey Fane told Bokus about the source of the information about the Syrians. But if Bokus passed any of that on to Kollek, then the leaks might have come from Mossad. Though what would the Israelis gain from tipping off the Syrians?’
‘Perhaps there’s some factional fight we don’t know about. You know, hawks who don’t want the peace conference to go ahead.’
Wetherby considered this, then shook his head. ‘I doubt it. Mossad has always stayed well clear of politics. That’s one of the reasons they’re so good.’
Liz said, ‘Still, there’s something not right.’ Wetherby looked at her, and she shook her head in mild frustration. ‘I can’t say what it is, because I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have.’
‘I’ve learned to trust those feelings of yours.’ He walked back to his desk looking contemplative. ‘I think we’ll continue watching Kollek for a little while more.’