The Contract

As they walked down the stairs to the street entrance of the building, Erica felt a growing sadness, a deepening loss. She had lost a friend.

They would never talk again, not as they had before.

'Did you get my note?' Sir Charles Spottiswoode caught at the PPS's arm. He had followed him from the Chamber to the door of the Members' Tea Room.

'About what?' The PPS rocked back. This one the same as most of the old fools, halitosis and no one with the courage to tell him to suck peppermints.

'I requested a meeting with the PM.'

'He's under fair pressure at the moment. I haven't fixed anything.' The PPS tugged at his arm, hoping to break the hold and was unsuccessful.

'I want to see the PM and soon.'

'Can't someone else help you?'

'It's the PM I want to see.'

'What's it about?' It was not suitable for the PPS to be involved in public argument. A corridor of the House of Commons was a very public place.

'Not your business.'

'I'm hardly going to waste his time on that basis. He's got four days in Scotland, then the economic debate…'

'The more you delay the harder your soft arse will be kicked when I've seen him.' Spottiswoode's voice rose, drawing a honeypot of attention, and his grip on the PPS's coat tightened.

'You'll get to him, I promise. I'll fix it while we're in Scotland.'

'Monsieur Foirot, is that you… can you hear me? It is Sharygin.'

'You have a very bad line.'

'Sharygin… from the Soviet Residence… you can hear me?'

'You are very faint…'

' I am calling from Moscow

' I can just hear you, Monsieur Sharygin, how can I help you?'

'The boy who drowned, you remember… the accident with the boat on the lake… Guttmann… has the body been found?'

'No.'

'I did not hear you, Monsieur Foirot…'

'The body of Guttmann has not been found, we have not found it.. . if it had been recovered the Residence would have been informed.'

'Of course, of course… but it is abnormal this length of time

…'

'Yes.'

'You agree that it is abnormal… that you have not found the body is strange.' ' I am a policeman, I am not an expert of the lake, but I know it is abnormal.'

'You cannot explain why the body has not surfaced.'

' I cannot explain it.'

' I see… thank you, Monsieur Foirot.'

'For nothing, Monsieur Sharygin.'

Johnny stood on the patio, gazed out into the darkness beyond the crescent of light from the french windows. He shook his arms gently beside him, trembled the muscles in his legs, wound down from the heights of his exercise session. The last time that he would strive for greater strength in his thighs and at the stomach wall and for his lungs.

The last evening at the house. The last of everything.

' I brought you a cup of tea…'

Johnny stiffened, turned, saw Mrs Ferguson, still in her apron.

'That's very sweet of you, thanks.'

'Mr Mawby's just come…'

' I heard the car, I'd better be getting inside.'

'You're away early in the morning Mr Carter says.'

'That's right, on my travels, something like that anyway.'

'Keep safe, Johnny.'

His hand shook and the cup rattled in the saucer and the tea spoon chimed against the china. He heard her feet pattering back towards the rear door that served the kitchen. For a few moments he watched the cloud gunning across the face of a small moon, picked out star patterns, then abruptly swung to the french windows, opened them and stepped into the living room.

Mawby stood in the centre of the carpet, Carter was sitting reading, Smithson and Pierce played backgammon near the fire. That's the team, Johnny, that's the Dipper's back-up. As good as you could expect, as bad as you were likely to find. Pretty average, and why should it be anything else? Johnny took a chair near the window.

'Fit and ready, Johnny?' Mawby said heartily.

'As fit as I ought to be.' 'I wanted to see you before you went off, that's why I came down. Henry put your case about going these two days early, said you wanted to rub-up your language in West Germany for 48 hours…'

'That's right.'

'You kept it for the last, sprung the idea late.'

'I said to Mr Carter that I thought it important.'

'I'm not making a thing of it, Johnny. I'm not forbidding it…' Mawby paused and Johnny saw his tiredness, the strain at his eyes and the nerves that chipped at the facade of calm. 'You're in Magdeburg, and we're not, I understand your attitude. There's something that I've said before, but which I want to emphasise again… if it goes nasty, if it starts to slide, then you quit. You don't risk capture. It's critical that you remember that. If it's falling apart, out you come, regardless of any other consideration. Is that clear?'

'That's very clear, Mr Mawby.'

'Good hunting. We'll have a bit of a party when we meet up again.'

There was a half smile at Johnny's face. 'I'll look forward to that.'

'I expect you want to get yourself a shower, and put your things together…'

There was an awkwardness settling in the room, all grown men and none knowing the script of the occasion.

'I'd like to do that.'