Smiley's People by Carré John le

Author:Carré, John le [Carré, John le]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Mystery, Suspense, Crime, Karla
ISBN: 9780143119777
Amazon: 014311977X
Barnesnoble: 014311977X
Goodreads: 10114342
Publisher: Penguin Books
Published: 1979-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

“So that was the case, darling,” Connie announced when she had taken a long pull at her drink. “We had the evidence of little Otto with plenty on his file to prove him right. We had a spot of collateral from other sources—not oodles, I grant you, but a start. Kirov was a hood, he was newly appointed, but what sort of hood was anybody’s guess. And that made him interesting, didn’t it, darling?”

“Yes,” Smiley said distractedly. “Yes, Connie, I remember that it did.”

“He wasn’t residency mainstream, we knew that from day one. He didn’t ride about in residency cars, do night-shifts or twin up with identified fellow hoods, or use their cipher room or attend their weekly prayer-meetings or feed the residency cat or whatever. On the other hand, Kirov wasn’t Karla’s man either, was he, heart? That was the rum thing.”

“Why not?” Smiley asked, without looking at her.

But Connie looked at Smiley all right. Connie made one of her long pauses in order to consider him at her leisure, while outside in the dying elms, the rooks wisely chose the sudden lull to sound a Shakespearean omen of screams. “Because Karla already had his man in Paris, darling,” she explained patiently. “As you are very well aware. That old stickler Pudin, the assistant military attaché. You remember how Karla always loved a soldier. Still does, for all I know.” She broke off, in order once more to study his impassive face. He had put his chin in his hands. His eyes, half closed, were turned towards the floor. “Besides, Kirov was an idiot, and the one thing Karla never did like was idiots, did he? You weren’t too kindly towards them either, come to think of it. Oleg Kirov was foul-mannered, stank, sweated, and stuck out like a fish in a tree wherever he went. Karla would have run a mile before hiring an oaf like that.” Again she paused. “So would you,” she added.

Lifting a palm, Smiley placed it against his brow, fingers upward, like a child at an exam. “Unless,” he said.

“Unless what? Unless he’d gone off his turnip, I suppose! That’ll be the day, I must say.”

“It was the time of the rumours,” Smiley said from far inside his thoughts.

“What rumours? There were always rumours, you dunderhead.”

“Oh, just defector reports,” he said disparagingly. “Stories of strange happenings in Karla’s court. Secondary sources, of course. But didn’t they—”

“Didn’t they what?”

“Well, didn’t they suggest that he was taking rather strange people onto his pay-roll? Holding interviews with them at dead of night? It was all low-grade stuff, I know. I only mention it in passing.”

“And we were ordered to discount them,” Connie said very firmly. “Kirov was the target. Not Karla. That was the fifth-floor ruling, George, and you were party to it. ‘Stop moongazing and get on with earthly matters,’ says you.” Twisting her mouth and putting back her head, she produced an uncomfortably realistic likeness of Saul Enderby: “‘This service is in the business of collectin’ intelligence,’” she drawled.

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