The Constant Gardener

"Import them. From Nairobi to Nairobi. He'll respray them for us, and all we've got to do is square the customs boys and put the lorries through our books a few at a time. If that's not organized crime, what is? A Russian crook ripping off the U.N., here in Nairobi in broad daylight, that's anarchy. And I disapprove of anarchy. So you can have that item of intelligence. Gratis and for fuck all. With Kenny K's compliments. Tell them it's a freebie. On me."

"They'll be over the moon."

"I want him stopped, Tim. In his tracks. Now."

"Coleridge or Quayle?"

"Both of them. I want Coleridge stopped, I want the Quayle woman's stupid report lost — "

My God, he knows about that too, thought Donohue. "I thought Pellegrin had already lost it for you," he complained, with the kind of frown that older men put on when their memory is failing them.

"You keep Bernard out of this! He's no friend of mine and never will be. And I want you to tell your Mr. Quayle that if he goes on coming at me, there's fuck all I can do to help him because he's taking on the world, not me! Got it? They'd have done him in Germany if I hadn't gone down on my hands and knees for him! Hear me?"

"I hear you, Kenny. I'll pass it up the line. That's all I can promise."

With bearish agility Curtiss sprang from his chair and rolled away down the room.

"I'm a patriot," he shouted. "Confirm that, Donohue! I'm a fucking patriot!"

"Of course you are, Kenny."

"Say it again. I am a patriot!"

"You're a patriot. You're John Bull. Winston Churchill. What do you want me to say?"

"Give me one example of me being patriotic. One of dozens. The best example you can think of. Now."

Where the hell is this leading? Donohue gave one all the same. "How about the Sierra Leone job we did last year?"

"Tell me about it. Go on. Tell me!"

"A client of ours wanted guns and ammunition on a no-name basis."

"So?"

"So we bought the guns — "

"I bought the fucking guns!"

"You bought the guns with our money, we provided you with a phony end-user certificate saying they were destined for Singapore — "

"You've forgotten the fucking ship!"

"ThreeBees chartered a forty-thousand-ton freighter and loaded up the guns. The ship got itself lost in the fog — "

"Pretended to, you mean!"

" — and had to put in to a small harbor near Freetown, where our client and his team were standing by ready to unload the guns."

"And I didn't have to do it for you, did I? I could have chickened. I could have said, "Wrong address, try next door." But I did it. I did it for love of my fucking country. Because I'm a patriot!" The voice dropped, to become conspiratorial. "All right. Listen. Here's what you do — what the Service does." He was pacing the long room as he gave his orders in low, staccato sentences. "Your Service — not the Foreign Office, they're a bunch of sissies — your Service, in person, you go to the banks. And you identify, in each bank — I'll mark your card for you — a real Englishman. Or woman. Are you listening, because you're going to be passing this on to them when you get home tonight." He had put on his visionary's voice. High tones, a bit of quaver, the people's millionaire.

"I'm listening," Donohue assured him.

"Good. And you call them together. These good Englishmen and true. Or women. To a nice paneled room in the City somewhere. You boys will know the places. And you say to them in your formal capacity as the British Secret Service, you say to them: "Gentlemen. Ladies. Lay off Kenny K. We're not telling you why. All we're saying is, lay off in the name of the Queen. Kenny K has done great work for his country but we can't tell you what it is, and there's more to come. You're to give him three months' ride on his credits and you'll be striking a blow for your country, same as Kenny K is." And they'll do it. If one says yes, they'll all say yes, because they're sheep. And the other banks will follow suit, because they're sheep too."

Donohue had never supposed he could feel sorry for Curtiss. But if he ever had, this might have been the moment.

"I'll ask them, Kenny. The trouble is, we haven't got that kind of power. If we had, they'd have to disband us."

But the effect of these words was more drastic than anything he could have feared. Curtiss was roaring and his roars were echoing in the rafters. He had flung up his white-sleeved arms in priestlike oblation above his head. The room was drumming to the thunder of his tyrant's voice.