Ten yards separated them now, and then Mustafa glanced around. Had he seen them? Tanner couldn’t tell, but it was unquestionably the man they had been looking for in vain at SIME. The elusive Eslem Mustafa in person, just ten yards ahead. A gap appeared in the throng, and Tanner hurried forward, Sykes beside him – but a gharry drove out of a lane, coming between him and his quarry. Tanner deftly squeezed past but Sykes was momentarily trapped. Tanner glanced back and saw his friend surrounded by children demanding baksheesh, but Mustafa was just ahead, still walking calmly. Five yards now. A group of Egyptians in his way. Tanner sidestepped, pulled out his pistol, took three quick paces and grabbed Mustafa’s shoulder.
Mustafa turned, stared at him, noticed the pistol, and let his shoulders drop. You’ve got me.
‘Eslem Mustafa—’
With lightning speed the Egyptian drove his knee hard into Tanner’s crotch. Tanner gasped, doubled up in pain, and Mustafa was away, shoving through the crowds. Tanner fell to his knees and then his side, vaguely conscious of footsteps running past him and people closing in around him.
20
He cursed himself. Christ, it was the oldest trick in the book and he’d fallen for it. How could he have been so stupid?
A hand was held out to him. Tanner looked up and saw Sykes grinning at him.
‘Ouch!’ he said. ‘Come on, up you get.’
‘I don’t know why you’re laughing. Bastard got away.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ said Sykes, as Tanner slowly got to his feet.
‘What do you mean? Cut out the smart-alec stuff, Stan.’
‘I sent those kids after him. They know these streets better than we ever will. ’E spoke pretty good English, their ring-leader, so I offered him generous terms to tail him.’
Tanner leaned forward, hands on knees. ‘Good work, Stan.’
‘I gave him twenty piastres there and then, and told him to follow him, and to come to Lucie’s flat with details of where he went, but for one of them to keep watching him all the time. I offered him five quid if he did a good job.’
‘Good money for a nipper.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ He patted Tanner on the back. ‘Fancy you falling for that one.’
‘I can’t believe it. And it bloody well hurt.’ He straightened up, winced, then said, ‘Let’s get back to Lucie. Poor girl’ll be wondering what the hell’s going on.’
‘Me an’ all, Jack.’ He took out his cigarettes, offered one to Tanner, then lit both. ‘What is going on?’ he said, exhaling.
‘I’ll tell you what I can when we reach Lucie. It’s big, though. Even bigger now.’ He thought of Vaughan and Tanja. ‘Jesus,’ he said.
She was waiting where they had left her. ‘What on earth was all that about?’ she said.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Tanner. ‘Really I am.’
‘And an explanation?’
‘I can’t give you much of one, I’m afraid. But I will tell you this. In that week before I returned to the battalion, I was working with Vaughan on an intelligence job. That man is a dangerous anti-British subversive they’ve been trying to catch for bloody ages. So I had to go after him.’
‘Blimey, Jack,’ said Sykes.
‘You obviously didn’t catch him, though.’
‘I did,’ said Tanner, ‘but he kneed me in the bollocks.’
‘Sorry, Lucie,’ said Sykes, ‘but he might not be on best form tonight.’
Lucie smirked. ‘Jack, you fool. So what was Tanja doing coming out of this place with him?’
‘I’m wondering the same thing.’
‘So what now?’ asked Lucie.
‘I’m afraid Stan and I are going to have to go into this shop, arrest the owner, then take him to Field Security HQ in Garden City. I’m sorry.’
‘And Tanja?’
‘I don’t know, quite. But it doesn’t look good.’
‘She knew him, Jack,’ said Lucie. ‘I saw her say something to him as she left.’
Tanner kicked at the ground. ‘Damn it all,’ he said, then turned to Sykes. ‘Come on, Stan. Let’s get on with it.’
Tanja had hurried away from Artus and the bazaar. Outside the Mosque el-Azhar, she hired a gharry to take her back to her flat. As she rumbled through the Moski towards Ezbekiyeh, she felt relieved, sensing that Mustafa had believed her. More than that, he seemed to accept her questioning of Orca.
Relieved, but fearful too. Hiding behind her polarized sunglasses, she picked at her fingers. She was a good actress, she knew; she always had been, even as a little girl, when she had discovered it could be useful to hide emotions or to portray a mood quite different from how she was feeling inside. But acting was just that: an act. She had shown a degree of steeliness to Artus that she had not felt inside. God only knew what would happen tomorrow, but if she ever made it to Mersa, how would she control her fear? What if her hands wouldn’t stop shaking? Or if she panicked? It had been hard enough here, in a city of millions, but in Mersa, a tiny coastal town seething with the general staff of the Panzer Army Africa, she knew she would have to be on her guard constantly. The mask could never drop, not for one moment. She closed her eyes. How did I get to this? She had never wanted any of it. She bit her lip, anger and grief searing her.
And then there was Alex. She had never expected to fall in love again, and yet she had. In a world without war, they could have had a future, but now she was about to leave him. She knew that the course she had taken had been the only one open to her, but she also knew that he would never forgive her. The truth would out, and with it, whatever love he had for her would die. She felt her eyes moisten. No, you cannot cry. And yet already she had begun to mourn him, and sadness overwhelmed her, bearing down upon her like a leaden shroud.
She got down from the gharry at Opera Square, but instead of heading straight back to the Polish Red Cross, she made for her flat. She wanted to compose herself before she had to put on yet another act of normality in front of Sophie and the girls.
Five minutes later, she reached the apartment block, where she was accosted by Mohammed, the bawaeb.
‘Sitt Tanja,’ he said, ‘there is askari to see you. He wait by you door.’
‘A soldier?’ she said.
‘Yes, Sitt Tanja.’
Tanja took the stairs and saw Alex. ‘Hello,’ he said, smiling, and she ran to him, crouched before he could get up, put her arms around him and kissed him. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said. ‘Alex, I love you. Whatever happens, I want you to know that.’
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I’m rather keen on you too.’ A hand on her face, his eyes searching hers. He’s so close to me now, she thought, and then he’ll be gone.
He kissed her again. ‘Shall we go inside?’
*
There had been a bit of a scene in the shop. The man had protested his innocence, his wife had spat at Tanner and scratched his face, and then they had emerged, Tanner frogmarching the man, Sykes pointing his revolver at the captive. And all in front of Lucie, too. It was hardly the enjoyable, convivial day she would have imagined.
They had tied the Egyptian’s hands behind his back with Tanner’s handkerchief, and, back on the main Moski road that led to Ezbekiyeh and Opera Square, Tanner had hailed a taxi.
‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart,’ he said to Lucie. ‘Let me get this bloke to Garden City and I’ll come straight back.’
‘It’s all right, Jack,’ she said, her arms folded across her chest.
‘Stan – look after Lucie, all right?’
‘Can’t I take this joker to Field Security?’ he said.
‘No – I know them. I won’t be long. Where shall I find you?’
‘At Chanti’s, in Ezbekiyeh Gardens,’ said Lucie.
Tanner shoved the Egyptian through the open door of the car, then followed, sitting beside him in the back seat.
‘Tolombat Street,’ he said to the driver, who glanced at him anxiously. ‘Garden City.’ He put his pist
ol away. What could the man do, after all? He was unarmed, and Tanner was twice his size. The shopkeeper began talking animatedly to the driver in Arabic, who turned, gesticulating wildly.
‘Shut up, the pair of you,’ said Tanner, then added to the shopkeeper, ‘You’ve already ruined my day. Don’t make it worse.’
They quietened down, the shopkeeper burying his head in his hands and sobbing. The man was frightened – of course he was – but for the moment he had nothing to fear. SIME’s interrogation techniques were soft: a prisoner was offered tea, cigarettes, then given a bath or shower and a hot meal. Having been terrified, expecting torture, he was disarmed, and usually easily persuaded as to the reasonableness of the British.
But it was not this man that Tanner was worried about. It was Vaughan. Jesus, what a bloody mess. How was Vaughan going to take it? He knew how smitten his friend was. And just before this operation on Tobruk too. Ah, damn it all to hell. If only Lucie hadn’t seen her. If only he hadn’t seen her. But he had, and he had to tell SIME, no matter how much he valued Vaughan as a friend. Perhaps it was nothing. But, no, that was wishful thinking. He knew what he’d seen.
Despite the heavy traffic on the roads, it did not take long to reach Red Pillars. Pulling the Egyptian out of the taxi, and pushing him up the steps, Tanner was greeted cheerily by Abdu, then took the lift to the third floor. To his relief, Sansom was there.
‘Jack,’ said Sansom, ‘this is a surprise, and you come bearing gifts too.’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d like to be out of here as quickly as possible. I’m supposed to be on twenty-four hours’ leave.’ He gripped the Egyptian’s shoulders. ‘This man is a shopkeeper in Khan El Khalili and has been allowing meetings between Eslem Mustafa and a Polish girl called Tanja Zanowski.’
Sansom frowned. ‘I see.’ He called over one of his men. ‘Mackenzie, take this man to the interrogation centre and wait there with him.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Jack,’ continued Sansom, ‘come into my office a moment, will you?’
They went in and Tanner took a chair. Sansom sat at his desk, lit one of his fat Turkish cigarettes, and said, ‘Tell me all.’
Tanner did so, although he skirted around what had happened to Mustafa. ‘I lost him, unfortunately.’ He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he’d been kneed in the groin.
‘Have you told RJ?’
‘No, I came straight here.’
‘We should go downstairs,’ said Sansom, ‘see if he’s there.’
‘It gets worse,’ said Tanner. ‘Do you know who Tanja Zanowski is?’
‘No. Who?’
‘Alex Vaughan’s girlfriend.’
‘Oh, Christ,’ said Sansom, his brow creased. ‘We definitely need to find RJ. Do you know where the girl lives?’
‘No, but she works at the Polish Red Cross.’
Sansom pressed the intercom on his desk. ‘Bones,’ he said, ‘I’ll explain everything in a minute, but can you get a section on standby to carry out an immediate house raid, and can you find out the address of Miss Tanja Zanowski, a Pole who works for the Polish Red Cross?’ A pause. ‘Good man. Just heading downstairs. Back shortly.’ He looked up at Tanner. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and find RJ.’
But Maunsell was out, not due back until later that afternoon. Of the ‘deputies’ only Kirk was in.
‘We should act right away, sir,’ Sansom told him. ‘I’ve got Astley getting an address for Miss Zanowski. I suggest we carry out an immediate search of her flat and pull her in as soon as possible.’
‘I agree,’ said Kirk. ‘I’ll try and get a call through to RJ.’
Sansom cleared his throat. ‘There is a complication, though, sir.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘Miss Zanowski is Vaughan’s girlfriend.’
‘Bugger.’ Kirk put his hands together and tapped his mouth. ‘Where is Alex? Do we know?’
‘He’s due back in Cairo today,’ said Tanner. ‘He’s been in Alexandria.’
‘The bloody idiot,’ said Kirk. ‘How long’s this been going on? Is he our mole?’
‘No,’ said Tanner, a touch of anger in his voice. ‘That’s out of the question. They’ve only been together a month. I was with him when they first met. It was at Shepheard’s.’
‘All right, but this isn’t going to look good for Alex. If she’s part of Cobra and he’s been bloody sleeping with her, he’s allowed himself to be horribly compromised.’ He sat back and rubbed his forehead. ‘All right, Sammy. Get someone round to his flat. We’re going to have to pull him in as well.’
‘Hold on, George,’ said Tanner. ‘You can’t think Alex would have told her anything? I’ve never met a more honourable man.’
‘That’s as may be, Jack, but if he’s been sleeping with a spy, we’re going to have to question him.’
‘But we’re due to head out on operations tomorrow,’ said Tanner.
‘That might be out of the question now. If Tanja Zanowski is who we think she is, Alex Vaughan won’t be going anywhere.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ said Tanner, his temper rising.
‘Jack – calm down. You can’t sleep with a traitor and assume it never happened. Now, thank you for all you’ve done, but let us deal with this from now on, all right?’
Tanner put his hands to his face. ‘God damn it!’ he said.
‘Jack,’ said Kirk, ‘this is not helping.’
‘Come on, Jack,’ said Sansom. ‘He’s right. We all like Alex, and we all wish it could be otherwise.’
‘If Vaughan’s good name is dragged through the mud,’ snarled Tanner, ‘I’ll—’
‘You’ll what, Jack?’ said Kirk.
‘Just show him some bloody respect.’ He left them.
Vaughan was lying on the bed with Tanja enfolded in his arms, a hand stroking her head, thinking he would gladly stay there for ever when there was loud, urgent knocking on the door.
‘Open up!’ an English voice shouted.
‘What the devil?’ said Vaughan. He felt Tanja physically recoil.
‘My God,’ she said.
More knocking. ‘Open up, I say!’
‘All right, all right!’ Vaughan shouted, putting on his underwear. He glanced at Tanja, saw the fear in her eyes. ‘It’s all right, darling.’ He hurried to the bathroom and handed her her dressing-gown. ‘Better get this on. Just in case.’ He smiled, hoping to reassure her.
More banging on the door. ‘I’m coming!’ Vaughan shouted.
As he opened the door, Sansom brushed past him, followed by one of his Field Security sections, all armed with pistols and Tommy guns.
‘Sammy?’ said Vaughan. ‘What the bloody hell’s going on? What d’you think you’re doing, man?’
‘I’m sorry, Alex,’ he said, and pushed past. Already the men were spreading through the flat.
Vaughan grabbed Sansom’s shoulder. ‘Sammy!’ he said. ‘How bloody dare you? Explain what the hell you think you’re doing!’
Sansom shot him a glance. Pity? Contempt? Vaughan couldn’t tell. Then he marched into the bedroom. Tanya was compressed against the back wall as though she had physically shrunk.
‘Tanja Zanowski?’ said Sansom.
Tanja nodded.
‘Tanja Zanowski,’ he said, ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of espionage.’
Vaughan looked at Tanja, saw her pleading eyes and, in that moment, the terrible, unthinkable truth.
‘You do not have to say anything,’ Sansom continued, ‘but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
‘No,’ said Vaughan, quietly. ‘No.’ For a moment he stood there, dumbfounded. It wasn’t possible – it couldn’t be. Men were moving about the flat. The wardrobe was opened, a case brought out and shoved on to the bed. One of the men said, ‘Sir!’ and took out a small aluminium transmitter.
‘Good work,’ said San
som. ‘Put it back in the case and take it out.’
He turned to Tanja. ‘Better get some clothes on.’
‘Can I go into the bathroom?’ she asked, her voice quiet.
‘No. Get dressed here, please.’
She glanced at Vaughan – help me – but he could not bear to look at her. He turned away, hardly able to take in what was happening. Why? And then he remembered the conversation at the Union. Of course – her hatred of the Soviets. What a fool he had been! What a bloody stupid fool! An FS man brushed past him but he barely noticed. The world around him seemed to have become silent, as though he was now merely an observer in something too terrible to comprehend. The mission, he thought. What about the mission? And he wondered what would happen to him, and the disgrace that surely awaited him. He leaned against a wall and closed his eyes. Minutes earlier, he had thought himself in love, happier than he had ever been. How could he have been so cruelly betrayed? Tanja passed him now and touched his arm.
‘Sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sorry, Alex.’
Vaughan recoiled.
Tuesday, 8 September, a little after seven a.m. Tanner drove Vaughan’s jeep back through the curving, shaded streets of Garden City. There were a few other vehicles on the road, General Staff men and women heading to work, but it was as quiet and sedate as ever. Tanner had always been struck by the marked contrast between this area and the rest of the city. Here, it really was a little corner of Britain: calm, ordered and tidy.
His head throbbed, which he knew was entirely his fault – he had drunk far too much the previous evening – or, rather, the previous afternoon. He had found Lucie and Sykes easily enough, but had still been in a foul mood when he reached them. Angry about Vaughan, he was also resentful that what had promised to be a relaxing and enjoyable day, not just for him but for Sykes and particularly Lucie, had been first interrupted and then tarnished. He had been determined the rest of the day should not be ruined and had, he now recognized, over-compensated. A late lunch at Chanti’s had continued into the evening, and by that stage none of them cared a damn about errant Egyptian subversives, least of all Tanner. From Chanti’s they had gone on to Madame Badia’s, so that when they had finally reached Lucie’s flat some short while after curfew, all they could do was collapse into bed or, in Sykes’s case, on to Lucie’s sofa.
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