How to Betray Your Country by James Wolff (spicy books to read .TXT) 📕

“Now steady on, August,” he said quickly. “I’m not here for another fight. In fact, I’ve asked the chap outside to give us a few minutes because I want to hold my hands up and apologize for what happened in London. I was too” – he sighed and looked around until he found the right word among the cobwebs in a corner of the room – “enthusiastic. I overstepped my brief, I didn’t present the evidence impartially, I trampled all over what should have been private territory. It was unforgivable. I have a habit of…” He looked away and chuckled. “I’m still doing it now, I suppose. Talking too much. My mother’s always saying that I sound just like my father. He was a criminal barrister in the Four Courts in Dublin – I must have absorbed more of his courtroom manner than I realized. He died last year, I don’t know whether you knew that, and I suppose I’m still working all that stuff out, you know, something like that triggers all sorts of thoughts about what kind of a person one wants to be.”

Lawrence paused to look out of the window. August had no intention of accepting the apology. It would be like surrendering a piece before it was even clear what game they were playing. There were small indications that Lawrence was nervous about the encounter, that he could be thrown off balance, and August knew he stood a greater chance of finding out what was going on if Lawrence was forced to deviate from his script and improvise. That didn’t mean he was sure Lawrence was definitely up to something. Assuming that everyone had an ulterior motive all of the time was one of the side effects of spying for a living, August knew that, along with being suspicious of the smallest coincidence, developing a pragmatic attitude towards the truth and avoiding any new social contact who might ask too many searching questions about the government department you claimed to work for but in truth had not visited for many years. It could also be that Lawrence had simply fallen victim to another common side effect, that of approaching all relationships as though they were something to be handled. Martha had been quick to learn the signs. More than any course she had driven August’s skills underground and out of sight where they belonged, teaching him to lose the artificial bonhomie and clumsy empathizing that new case officers tottered around on in the weeks and months after completing their training. “Stop it,” she would say, or “Fuck off,” or, leaning forward, wringing her hands and earnestly screwing up her face, “I know, I know. It must be so tremendously hard for you. You know that I’m with you every step of the way, don’t you? Now, back to that ticking bomb…”

“Anyway, I’m sorry,” said Lawrence finally. “I should have listened to wiser heads, counselling me to be a bit less … passionate.” When August still didn’t say anything, he threw out another line: “Or a bit less of a fucking idiot, that’s another way to put it.”

“That sounds like the kind of thing Bill might have said.” Given Lawrence’s native confidence and aggression, August suspected that merely pointing towards a diversion would be enough to send him off his prepared route and into the chicane of a country lane. “I haven’t spoken to him since I left. It feels longer than – what is it, a couple of months? Did you know he was my mentor when I first joined the Service? I hope he’s all right.”

“Bill?” A beat as Lawrence checked the mirrors, adjusted his hands and spun the wheel. “He’s very well. He graciously accepted my apology, and gave me some very helpful advice about the world of agents.”

Which was contrary to the rumours August had heard, rumours of Lawrence tirelessly pursuing an accusation of harassment in the days after the disciplinary hearing, alleging that Bill’s unprofessional language had created the atmosphere of confrontation that had given sanction to August’s assault.

“He confided in me over a few drinks that he’ll be retiring soon,” said Lawrence, warming to his theme. He took off his glasses and wiped them on a handkerchief. “More than a few, if I’m honest. We got through the best part of a bottle of Connemara. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me telling you about his retirement. It’ll be a huge blow to the office. He’s a legend among the younger generation of officers.”

It was true that Bill was serving out his notice, having decided to take early retirement. A non-operational post at a lower grade had been the compromise on offer after the head of personnel had decided there was enough merit in Lawrence’s claim to take action. That was what bothered August most: that on the way out he had dragged someone else down with him.

“Mind you, you’re on the way to becoming a bit of a legend yourself,” Lawrence said hurriedly. He was far from being an idiot – his instincts were sharp enough to realize that in turning off his prepared route he might have clipped an edge on something. “That whole Egypt episode. I’d love to hear your side of the story, if you ever want to talk about it; I’m sure we only scratched the surface. If things were different it’d make a great case study for new recruits, not that I’m suggesting for a moment it would send the right message. But in terms of demonstrating creativity, working with limited resources, planning under pressure, overcoming obstacles, dealing with risk – there’s a hell of a lot there people could learn.”

It was admirable, from the perspective of a former practitioner, the way Lawrence chose to apply a list of competencies lifted verbatim from the office’s HR manual to what had happened in Egypt, throwing them like a net of words over one of the worst examples of disobedience in recent history as though