Remember (33 page)

Whyever didn’t I think of the intelligence business? she wondered, but she said in a cool, very steady voice, “You’re with MI6, is that it?”

“A special branch of SIS, actually.”

“What is SIS?”

“The Secret Intelligence Service, which is the same as MI6, more or less. And I faked my suicide and disappeared because it became necessary for me to assume a new identity.”

“Why?” Nicky asked, leaning forward again.

“I needed a new identity in order to infiltrate a foreign intelligence service.”

“Are you telling me that you’re a mole?”

“That is correct, I am.”

“Which foreign intelligence service have you infiltrated?”

“Now, you know damn well I can’t reveal that to you, Nicky. Come on, use that intelligent head of yours,” he said in that mellifluous voice of his.

She nodded. “I understand. How long have you been an agent?”

“For years. Fifteen years, to be exact. Since I was twenty-five.”

“So you were working for British intelligence when you met me,” she said, twisting her hands together, suddenly understanding there was a part of him she had never known.

“I was indeed,” he confirmed.

“But we were going to be married. How did you ever hope to keep that a secret from me?”

“Very easily. First of all, you were heavily involved with your career, and to the exclusion of all else, except for our relationship, of course. And you traveled a lot as a war correspondent. Quite

frankly, I didn’t think you would be too nosy, prying into what I was doing all of the time. It wasn’t in your nature to do so. And in any case, my secret had been safe from everyone for years. I had the perfect cover, you see. My wine-importing company.”

“But it was so successful,” she exclaimed, sounding surprised.

“Most cover operations are just that, a cover. They don’t necessarily make money.”

He smiled. “That was always one of my problems, Nicky. Whatever business I became involved with prospered. My immediate boss, my spymaster, said I had the golden touch. That’s why I dropped my other businesses in the early years. I then started the wine company, and although this too flourished, at least it was a splendid cover.”

“I can see that it worked very well for you.”

“It truly was ideal. I could travel anywhere I wanted, anytime,” Charles said. “But you know that. Once I’d brought Chris Neald in as my partner, I wasn’t tied to a desk at all. Chris ran the business, and I went around the world, doing what I had to do whilst purchasing wine for the company.”

“It always seemed so legitimate to me,” Nicky murmured with a small frown.

“Oh, but it was. In the end, of course, it was really Chris’s company, inasmuch as he was doing most of the real work.

Naturally, that suited me very well. I gained more and more freedom.”

“Did Chris know you were an agent?”

“Good God, no!”

“But you did have an accomplice, didn’t you? I mean someone who helped you to fake your death and get out of England.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Who was it?”

“You know very well I can’t tell you that.”

“Another agent?”

He nodded.

“Why did you have to do a vanishing act at all? You just said you had the perfect business cover, and that I didn’t pry too much.

Why couldn’t you have married me and then just continued as before, Charles?”

“That’s what I had always intended to do. But a few months before our marriage I found out I had to go away for a long time. You see, it had become imperative for an SIS agent to infiltrate a particular foreign intelligence agency and to go under deep cover in order to do so,” he explained. “And we all understood that the deep cover would last for years—many years, perhaps, if it was to be effective. And so it seemed kinder to disappear before we were married than afterward.”

“I see. But why you, Charles? Why not another British agent?”

“Because of my special talents, my expertise in certain areas, the foreign languages I speak perfectly. I was the best person for the job. And it was vital for British national security that I infiltrate as soon as possible. You don’t do that overnight, you know. It takes time to gain people’s confidence and trust, to be accepted.” He took a sip of the water, and continued, “As I said, we all knew that I would be working undercover for many, many years. That’s the gist of it, really.”

“And so you sacrificed our life together,” Nicky murmured softly, looking at him closely.

“I had to—for my country, my beliefs,” he replied, gazing back at her, his eyes suddenly very soft. There was a regretful look on his face.

She was quiet, sitting extremely still in the chair.

He said gently, “If it’s any consolation, I did love you very much.”

He wanted to add that he still loved her, but he did not dare, and, anyway, it would be inappropriate.

She said slowly, “You caused me a lot of pain, Charles.”

“I know I did. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Under the circumstances, I suppose I can. I do already.” Now she gave him a penetrating look. “Your mother was as devastated as I was.”

“Yes … ” “She’s much better now. She’s become engaged to Philip Rawlings .

” “I know, I saw the announcement in The Times. He’s wanted to marry her for years. He must be very happy.”

“They both are.”

“I’d like to askyou something now, Nicky. How did you discover that I was actually alive? And how on earth did you get that photograph of me, I mean the photograph of me as I look today?”

“It was a fluke,” she said, and proceeded to explain.

When she had finished, he shook his head. “And I never knew that that damnable television camera was even focused on me. I’d been dining with a friend, in a restaurant near the square where the rally was being held, when we heard the hullabaloo. It was the shooting. My friend and I dashed out to see what was happening. I saw the television camera, of course, and I should have followed my instinct and left the scene at once. I’m usually much more careful .” Nicky nodded. Then she remarked, “You changed your appearance by growing a mustache and dyeing your hair. But you didn’t change your eyes, they’re still green.”

“I have brown contact lenses, which I usually wear,” he confided.

“But I didn’t think it was necessary to do so for you. But not to digress. Tell me what led you to Athens, Nicky.”

“After I’d spent the weekend at Pullenbrook two weeks ago, I decided to go to Rome, which was the source of the film. I was hoping I would come across something that would lead me to you.

By a curious coincidence, our bureau chief’s secretary recognized your photograph. She’d seen you at the airport in Athens .”

“Ah, yes, the lovely American girl I assisted with her luggage, I’ve no doubt.”

“That’s right.”

“And so from Rome you went to Athens,” he asserted. “And started asking questions at the various big hotels.”

“You had been there, hadn’t you? I mean, you weren’t merely passing through, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t. I spent two days in Athens, in point of fact.”

“You stayed out at Vouliagmeni, didn’t you?” Nicky said, leaning back in the chair, studying him again.

“Actually, I didn’t. But I did spend some time there with one of my contacts. I had several luncheons there and dinner. But I was living in a safe house in the city.”

“Is this a safe house?”

“Yes, it is.”

“But you don’t live in this apartment, do you?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Did you find out I was in Madrid when I got here, or did you know I was coming before I arrived?”

“Before. I knew of your presence in Athens the moment you started inquiring about me, and I knew when you left for Madrid. I was always one step ahead of you, Nicky, so to speak.”

“Someone at the Grande Bretagne told you, didn’t he? Was it Costa?

Aristotle? Or Mr. Zoulakis out at Vouliagmeni?”

“I can’t tell you that. And incidentally, why did you suddenly come here? What led you to me?”

“Nothing led me to you, Charles. I didn’t even know you were here. I wanted to see your former Spanish partner. I hoped Don Pedro would agree with me that it was you in the photograph. Or tell me I was wrong.”

“But you said my mother didn’t believe it was me!” he exclaimed.

“Wasn’t that enough for you?”

“Not really. In any case, deep inside myself I felt you were still alive. Call it gut instinct.”

“Yes, you always were very strong on that. I’m curious about another thing—once you decided I was alive, what did you think my motive had been for slipping off the face of the earth?”

“To be very honest, I wasn’t sure. After your so-called suicide, there’d been no scandal in England, so I knew you couldn’t have been involved in a big financial swindle. Therefore, I thought it must be some kind of illicit operation, and that you’d decided it was wiser to disappear and start a new life.”

“What kind of illicit operation did you think I was caught up in?”

Charles asked, his brows coming together in puzzlement.

“Arms dealing or drug smuggling,” she said in a low voice.

“Good heavens, Nicky, you didn’t think very highly of me, did you?”

“How could I?”

He rose, walked over to the window, paced up and down for a second or two and then came back to his chair. After a moment he said, “It perturbs me enormously that you believe someone followed you in Madrid.

Are you sure of this?”

She shrugged. “Not absolutely certain, no.”

“Tell me what leads you to think this?”

“There was a man who was hovering around me when I was speaking to the concierge yesterday morning. I almost stumbled over him again in the shopping arcade underneath the Palace Hotel a short while later. Then when I came out of the Prado, early last evening, he was there too, but he was preoccupied momentarily, and I slipped past him.”

“I see. Can you describe him to me?”

“Of course. He was definitely Spanish, of that I’m quite sure.

Medium height. Well dressed, dark hair slicked back. About forty years old or thereabouts, and always smoking a black cigarillo.”

“What makes you think he’s Spanish?”

“He looks it. Also, he spoke Spanish to the concierge, I heard him as I was walking away from the desk.”

“Do you think he might have been a guest in the hotel?”

“I don’t know.”

“He may not have been following you. He could have been a local Lothario who likes beautiful blondes,” Charles pointed out. “A man who was simply trying to pick you up. That’s not so unusual.

” “Are you worried that I might have led him to you?”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t do that,” he reassured her.

“There’s one other thing. My phone rang last night, but when I went to answer it, no one spoke. However, I checked with the operator and I did get a phone call. Someone did ask for me.”

He nodded. “I did.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was going to ask you to meet me last night, and then I changed my mind. I thought I might frighten you off, and I decided it was better to wait until this morning.”

“Do you live in Madrid?”

“No .”

“Where do you live?”

“Everywhere. Nowhere. I sort of—float around. I’m never in one place for very long.”

“For security reasons?”

“That’s about it.”

“I’m sorry that I might have put you in danger, Charles, showing your photograph and asking questions about you. That foreign intelligence agency would have you killed if they knew you were a mole, wouldn’t they?”

He laughed lightly. “Oh yes, they’d have no compunction. But that’s the intelligence business. No one ever said it was safe.”

Nicky opened her handbag and took out the photographs of him. “I want you to have these,” she said and handed them to him.

“Thanks, Nicky.” He tore them into shreds and dropped the pieces on the tray.

“You do know I won’t tell a soul that you’re alive, or discuss what you’ve told me, don’t you?”

“Yes. I know you’ll be my fellow conspirator, and keep my secret.

” “I could have blown your entire operation,” she began, and stopped, biting her lip.

“You could have, that’s true,” he agreed. “And that could have been quite horrendous, because it’s taken several years to set up. However, don’t look so worried, I’m positive you haven’t. If you had, I’d know by now. I probably wouldn’t even be around to have this conversation with you. I would have been taken out.”

This thought chilled her to the bone, and she fell silent. But after a short while, she said, “About the man I thought was following me . .

.

Shall I ask if he’s a guest in the hotel? You could call me later, to find out what the concierge said.”

“Oh no, Nicky, I don’t want you to be involved in anything I do.

It’s far too dangerous. Please don’t worry, I’ll find out who the man is. I have my ways, my contacts. Just leave everything to me.

Please leave everything alone. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing is ever as it seems in the world of intelligence and counterintelligence. You might say that everything is upside down in the clandestine world that I live in.” He let out a small breath.

“You never really know who anyone is.” He straightened in the chair, and added, “I want you to leave Madrid as soon as possible.”

“I will. I intend to go tomorrow.”

“That’s good, Nicky. I’ll feel better knowing that you’re nowhere near me.”

Suddenly Nicky understood there was nothing more to say, and she pushed herself to her feet. “I think I’d better be going.” She began walking toward the archway that led into the foyer.

Charles also rose and followed her.

She turned, waited for him to draw closer, and then she said, “I’m glad that we had this meeting, Charles. So much has been clarified for me.”

“Yes, I’m glad we saw each other, too, Nicky.” He studied her for a moment, his head on one side, and then the small smile touched his mouth and he said, “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

She nodded, but discovered she could not speak.