Single & Single: A Novel by John le Carré

Author:John le Carré [Carré, John le]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0671027972
Amazon: B000FC0UDU
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2001-02-21T06:00:00+00:00

“‘When I am stabbed in the back, Gupta, tell me whose hand is on the knife!’” Gupta was yelling through the keyhole. “‘Is it the hand closest to my heart, I am asking myself? Is it the hand I have fed and watered like no other? Gupta, if I told you I was today the saddest man on earth, this would be no exaggeration whatsoever of my current personal situation, regardless of the fact that self-pity does not befit a person of my stature.’ These were his very words, Mr. Oliver. From the Tiger’s mouth.”

Alone inside the strong room, Oliver stared at the dial. Stay calm. This is not a good time to panic, he told himself. So when is? First, if only to confirm the hopelessness of his predicament, he entered the old combination, two left, two right, four left, four right, two left and twist the handle. It refused to budge. My birth date is no longer operative. On the other side of the door Gupta continued his lament while Oliver desperately lectured himself. Tiger does nothing carelessly, he reasoned, nothing that does not enhance his self-esteem. Without conviction he dialed Tiger’s own birth date. Nothing budged. Commemoration Day! he thought, with greater optimism, and dialed the numbers 050480, this being the date of the firm’s foundation, traditionally celebrated with a champagne barge ride up the Thames. But no cheer resulted. He heard Brock: “But you, you can feel him, guess him, live him, just by breathing in. You’ve got him here.” He heard Heather: “Girls count roses, Oliver. They like to know how much they’re loved.” Sickened by the dawning of his prescience, he again spun the dial with sweating fingers, three left, two right, two left, four right, two left. Grimly, stoically, no demonstrations of emotion permitted. He was entering Carmen’s birth date.

“Sir, it is not beyond my competence to call nine-nine-nine and demand the appropriate service, Mr. Oliver!” Gupta was screaming. “This will be very soon my next move, you will see!”

The bolt clanged free, the door to the strong room swung open and the secret kingdom displayed itself before him, boxes, files, books and papers stacked with Tiger’s obsessional precision. He switched out the light and stepped back into the office. Gupta was wringing his hands, moaning pitiful apologies. Oliver’s face was on fire and his bowels were churning, yet he contrived to speak snappishly, an officer of the Single raj.

“Gupta, I need to know as a matter of urgency what my father did from the moment he received the news of Mr. Winser’s death.”

“Oh, he was demented, sir. How the news came to him is a matter for speculation. Office rumor maintains it was a telephone call, who from is not given to us to know, but probably a newspaper. His eyes were most wild. ‘Gupta,’ he says, ‘we are betrayed. A chain of events has reached its tragic culmination. Find me my brown coat.’ He was a stranger to reason, Mr. Oliver, a man confused.

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