The Old Enemy by Henry Porter (read with me .TXT) 📕

few moments. ‘So, the belief that Denis Hisami had material in his briefcase that he was preparing to reveal must be wrong.’

‘I don’t know. Mr Hisami and Dad were making those decisions.’ She looked down and started stroking her knee nervously. ‘I really loved my father, you know. Maybe the only person I’ve actually loved in my life, though Rudi comes close.’ She stopped. ‘He told me he was going to die. That’s what made it so hard being in London. But I had to see it through for him. It meant a lot that he trusted me with it.’

‘He knew you’d got what it takes.’ He stopped. ‘Your tradecraft is pretty good, Zoe.’

‘Gave you the runaround, did I?’ She smiled for the first time, and Samson began to like her.

‘You did.’

‘If Rudi hadn’t been in London, I couldn’t have done it.’ She stopped, and their eyes met. ‘We went to the cabin because we both wanted to be where Dad lived his last months. He was murdered there, but that wasn’t the point. You probably know that Rudi treated him as his father and loved him, too. We wanted to feel his presence, see the light he painted, that kind of thing. You understand?’

‘I do. What did you burn out there? I saw ashes in the fire.’

‘Notes that Rudi kept from London. Nothing important.’

‘Ah! What about the structure of this operation? How did it work?’

‘There were four teams: Pearl, Pitch, Aurora and Saffron. Dad mimicked the cell structure that Mila had in place. Then there was Berlin Blue, which was run by Mr Hisami and Dad, because that was the apex. The reason we were all there.’

Samson pulled his laptop towards him and read out, ‘Jonathan Mobius, Erik Kukorin, Chester Abelman and Elliot Jeffreys.’

‘So, it is all in the book,’ she said.

‘Yep. And each of these men was running agents or people who’d been compromised by Mila Daus,’ he said, and handed her the piece of paper. ‘Ulrike just discovered this in your father’s book.’

She took it and ran her eyes down the names. ‘Yes, these people. But there are more, some we have only just found out about. I see the Special Adviser in Number Ten is here.’

‘In Number Ten!’

‘Yeah, Anthony Drax. Totally Mila’s man.’

‘That explains a lot. Did your father think that MI6 knew about Drax? The name meant nothing to me.’

‘Yes, my father thought MI6 had their suspicions. The last time I saw him he was wondering whether to tip them off, but then the whole operation would have been blown, and he had no love for his former employer. There are bigger fish in the States. They have someone who works for the Director of Intelligence and a senior person in the National Security Council. Naji knows everything. We’d better pray he gets here. Now, can I look at the book?’

At first light Anastasia got out for a pee. The ground was wet with dew. There was a red stripe of rising sun beyond the trees and a remarkably loud dawn chorus. She returned to the car. Naji was awake and staring up at the sky through the windshield.

‘Shall we go?’ She handed him the water bottle. ‘You okay?’

He nodded. ‘I need to do what you just did.’

‘Sure. It’s four thirty. We can make it in an hour or so and then we just walk over the border.’

He shambled out and stood listening to the birds for a moment before urinating against the wheel of one of the nearest trailers. Why do men always do that? she asked herself.

He returned to the car, got in and slammed the door.

‘Something wrong?’

He didn’t reply.

‘Naj, what is it?’

‘We are going to a funeral of a good man. I liked Mr Harland. A lot! We talked like with my father.’

How could she be so blind? Of course, Harland was a substitute for the father he’d lost before he set off on his journey into Europe in 2015. ‘Yes, I saw you together. I know you’re going to miss him badly.’

He nodded. ‘I miss Ifkar, too. Sometimes we go out into the forests and listen to the birds like this. “The birds are the friends of the stars.” That is what Ifkar says. It is sentimental, but I like it.’ He turned to her. ‘I like Ifkar very much.’ What was in his eyes was love, not mere affection. She said nothing but held his gaze. He nodded. ‘Yes, Anastasia, in that way. And he likes me like that way. Is this wrong?’

‘Of course not.’ She kissed his brow and stroked his hair. ‘Wherever a person finds love, that’s good.’

‘But it is bad. Ifkar thinks it may be bad.’

‘Of course it isn’t – it’s how you both are. It’s the most natural thing in the world.’

‘Like you and Samson?’

She banged her hands on the wheel. ‘Do you mind if we don’t go there? I mean, it’s, well . . . it’s very awkward.’ She started the engine. ‘And I do love my husband. He’s a courageous man.’ She stopped and shook her head with frustration. ‘Let’s go. We have to crash that border.’

‘Want me to drive?’

‘No.’

She drove faster than she had the night before. Naji sat with his knees up, murmuring to himself in Arabic and English. They met no other vehicles on the way, which made them feel conspicuous. On the outskirts of Valga, he straightened and looked up Alko 1000 on his phone. ‘There are two and they are both near to border,’ he said, and showed her the map on the phone.

They decided on the one in the centre of town, a supermarket surrounded by a large car park about two kilometres away. Naji retrieved her phone from his backpack and waited for the network to show at the top of the screen.

Valga was a dreary place with waste ground between the houses. There was little sign of life at that hour, although they saw one or two pickups and tractors loaded with produce heading in the same direction