Tigran Dus's face was grey. 'You are a fiend, Alexander Petrovich. I thought you a somewhat backward boy, but your blood is the coldest I have ever known.'
'Are you afraid, Comrade Colonel?'
'Listen to me, Alexander Petrovich.' Tigran Dus spoke so quickly the words ran together.
‘I
know you do not mean to drown. No one could plan his own death in so horrible a manner. Take me with you. Show me the way out of this and I will see that your future is assured. I will make you powerful, Alexande
r Petrovich. Powerful and rich.
I will look after Helena as well.' He paused, staring at Galitsin, wondering if he had made a mistake.
Galitsin shook his head. 'There is no way back to the land, Comrade Colonel. But it will not be long now.' He walked into the mist.
'Wait!' Tigran Dus tried to hurry after him, but the water was up to his waist, and movement was difficult. 'Wait, Alexander Petrovich. Do not leave me.'
Galitsin went on wal
king. He listened to Tigran Dus
disintegrating as a human being. He thought he had achieved everything he had set out to do. And now he wondered, Why? When I could be with Wendy on a beach in Cornwall. Why? He turned, and discovered that Tigran Dus was no longer shouting. Silently, the colonel had slipped beneath the waves. Or perhaps he had never been there at all. Perhaps the whole thing had been a dream. He walked back, hurrying now, slipped, and went beneath the surface, out of his depths for a moment, regained the land surrounding the hole, got his head above the water. He had walked past the hole the first time. But Tigran Dus had walked into the hole, and had not come back up.
Galitsin stood still, bracing himself against the s
urge of the sea,
which now reached his chest. He was afraid to move, to fall back into the hole, not only because he would drown immediately, but because Tigran Dus was down there, waiting for him. But there was not much point in standing here, either. It would soon be over.
A sound drifted over the waves. At first it sounded like a gull. Galitsin turned, blood flooding his arteries. 'Ahoy! Is anybody there?'
‘
Yes,' Galitsin shouted. 'Over here. Quickly! The water is to my chest.'
‘
Keep your head!' the fisherman shouted. 'Stay still.'
Now he could see an open boat, propelled by an outboard motor, chugging towards him. But the water was reaching for his face.
'I can't swim!' Galitsin shouted.
'Keep calm,' the fisherman commanded. The boat came up to him, the engine died, and powerful hands reached for his clothes. 'Thought I heard someone shouting,' the fisherman said. 'How the hell did you find yourself walking out here at high water?'
Galitsin lay in the bottom of the boat, listened to the grumble of the engine as it re-started. He had accomplished everything he had set out to do. No, not everything. His courage, after all, had not been equal to everything. It was, after all, of a nebulous quality. Not something to be admired. Not even by Wendy. Galitsin said, 'I wish you to take me to a police station. I have just murdered a man.'
'I sti
ll think you were a bloody fool’
Alan Shirley said. 'Didn't it occur to you that you had just committed about the most perfect crime in history?'
'I had cheated’
Galitsin said. 'Not only Tigran Dus. I had cheated myself. That was the most important thing of all. I thought your police would hang me.'
'It's a bloodsport we
've given up. But even back in ‘
fifty-eight your crime didn't quite come into the hanging category. Tigran Dus was certainly missing, and the Russians were screaming for your blood. But there was no body. Do you know, there has never been a body? Your employer knows how to keep his secrets. And do you know something else, Alexander Petrovich? If you had spilled the whole beans to the court, as you have just spilled them to me, instead of standing there and repeating time and again that it was a personal matter between you and Dus, because he had dishonoured your sister, you could easily have been acquitted.'
'I did not want to be acquitted, Colonel Shirley.' 'But you've known for some time that you were due for parole."
Galitsin shrugged, gazed through the window at the motorway, racing away from the car. It would soon be dawn. 'A temporary respite, Comrade Colonel. As you say, they are waiting for me at Heathrow.'
'And if, by some mischance, we never reached Heathrow, Alexander Petrovich, where would you go?'
Galitsin made no reply.
'W
ould you go hunting for Christine Hamble, breathing vengeance? She's still around, you know. Her husband is dead, and she's a very wealthy woman. She still has Barnes as her chauffeur, too.'
'I do not think I would was
te time looking for Mrs. Hamble’
Galitsin said.
'Then perhaps you'd go looking for Irena Szen. I'm afraid I have no idea what has happened to her.'
'I would prefer not to think of Irena Szen'
'What about Nancy Connaught? Do you ever think of her?'
'Yes' Galitsin said. 'I have thought about her a great deal. But I would not like to see her again. She made me feel very inadequate. Besides, I treated her badly, running off like that.'
'She's forgiven you. She's a novelist now, you know. Quite successful. I think she always wanted to be a novelist, rather than a journalist, but until you came along she couldn't find anything to write about. So what
would
you do? They taught you a trade, didn't they?'
'I am a motor mechanic now.' Galitsin smiled. 'I think, if I could, I would follow the sun, Comrade Colonel'
'After twelve years? Things aren't the same now. And neither would she be the same.'
'I know that. And yet . . . she was the most genuine human being I ever met, Mr
. Shirley. You know, Nancy Conna
ught talked about freedom, Wendy practised it. Irena Szen talked about sexual pleasure, Wendy practised it. I do not expect ever to see her again. As you say, after all this time, I do not think it would be a good thing for either of us. But if she thought she could be happy in Cornwall, then I should like to go there too. I suppose you feel people like her, and me, are beneath contempt.'
'No, Alexander Petrovich. I think Wendy and her friends were the first of a new breed, an inevitable breed, I'm afraid, as the world gets more and more crowded, and more and more organised, and more and more competitive. There are many more of them, now. No, I can't say that I admire drop-outs, but I don't feel contemptuous of them. You could describe Gauguin as a drop-out. And if every generation of layabouts were to produce one Gauguin the world wouldn't be too badly off. On the other hand, they seem to throw up their quota of villains, too. I'll confess I don't know what we're going to do with them, in this little island, anyway.' He leaned forward, tapped his driver on the shoulder. 'About here will do, Harry.' He took out his wallet, thumbed four five-pound notes. 'That'll get you to Cornwall, Alexander Petrovich.'
Galitsin gazed at the money, shook his head. 'You are very kind, Mr. Shirley, but I must return to Russia. Helena has suffered enough on my account.'
'Don't be a bloody fool, Alexander Petrovich. Helena Petrovna is perfectly happy without you. The So
viet Union is perfectly happy w
ithout you. They have no desire ever to see you again. They were aghast when we informed them that you were due for parole. Oh, they'll send you back to prison. But they won't give a damn if you're not there. Do you really
want
to go back?'
Galitsin considered. 'No, Mr. Shirley. I do not think there is as much difference between there and here as people imagine. But here, as you say, I have served my sentence.'
Shirley opened the car door. 'Then get out, and go take a look at Cornwall. Here's a British passport, and a National Insurance card. And on this piece of paper is the address of a friend of mine in Newquay, He owns a garage, and he'll give you a job. You can spend the rest of your life sitting in the sun. You've earned that. You could try painting again.'
Galksin took the passport, opened it, looked inside. 'I do not understand, Mr. Shirley. I am a criminal.'
'Not in our book. You eliminated the Fourth Bureau's most dangerous and efficient officer. Do you know for how many years we looked forward to Tigran Dus's demise? But if one
of
our chaps ha
d done it, the reprisals and re
percussions would have been endless. You did it, apparently, over a family matter. Oh, we had to charge you with murder. That's the way the game is played. But we wouldn't want you to think we're not grateful.'
He slammed the door, and the big car moved away from the solitary figure standing at the roadside. The man sitting beside the driver turned his head. 'I wish I knew why you took such a personal interest in the chap. You
of
all people. As I remember the case, the defection
of
A. P. Galitsin wasn't one
of
your more successful operations.'
Alan Shirley smiled. 'Quite the contrary. But the fellow used to be a friend
of
my wife's, don't you know'