Read Online See Charlie Run by Brian Freemantle - Free Book Online Page B

sure.’
    â€˜Joint operation: something big then?’
    The persistence definitely showed the knowledge of some pre-briefing, Charlie decided. Wilson or Harkness? Despite the attempt at fairness, Charlie reckoned the answer was obvious. If he could prove that, after the security classification, he’d have some ammunition in the battle against the polished and buffed asshole. ‘Too soon to judge yet,’ he said, generally. He wondered if Cartright would withhold messages and keep a time sheet on him.
    â€˜How about the traffic?’ offered Cartright.
    â€˜Thanks,’ said Charlie, accepting the dossier.
    The London transmissions were very brief, which was hardly surprising at this stage, just the original and strictly formal notification of his coming, the instruction that any local assistance had first to be cleared by either the Director or deputy and a query whether or not he had reported in, upon arrival. The messages about London authorization and the arrival query were both signed by Harkness. Charlie wondered where the second batch of messages was, briefing Cartright on what to do.
    â€˜That the lot?’ asked Charlie.
    â€˜Everything,’ promised Cartright. ‘Were you expecting more?’
    â€˜Nothing separate, to you?’ pressed Charlie. It would be wrong to let the other man think he was a prick, even if he’d been a bit of one last night. He’d also expected something about the empty boast to Fredericks that he had power to abort. Charlie accepted that if the American had checked and London reacted wrongly he’d be in the shit, right up to his neck. Fredericks’ cleverness had gone beyond putting him under immediate surveillance; making the direct approach at the hotel had wrong-footed him into having to improvise.
    â€˜That’s all there is,’ lied Cartright. Hurrying on in his discomfort, he said: ‘Do you want the code room?’
    â€˜Not yet,’ said Charlie. ‘You can tell them I’ve arrived, OK?’
    Cartright looked doubtful. ‘I rather think they are expecting to hear from you,’ he said.
    I bet they are, thought Charlie: Harkness first in line, bleating about authority. He needed something to fight back with, before there was any contact. He was pretty sure Cartright had been appointed watchdog and regretted it: the man seemed nice enough and Charlie wanted friends, not enemies. He said: ‘Things to do first. It’s only a formality, after all. And you will check about the passport, won’t you?’
    â€˜Certainly? Sure that’s all?’
    â€˜There are telephones, in the code room?’ Let him work that out.
    â€˜Of course.’
    Charlie recognized the standard design, trying to remember the first time he’d ever enclosed himself inside a secure capsule like this: certainly he’d been younger than Cartright. An inner, sealed chamber was supported by four metal struts he knew were tested weekly against electronic interception. The chamber was reached across a small walkway which lifted, separating it from the outer shell and isolating the occupant completely. The door had a system operated from the inside which displayed on the outer part a colour code designation, indicating the degree of sensitivity of the material being transmitted or received inside the sanctum, pink for the lowest through a varied rainbow to purple, the highest. Charlie itemised red, which was an exaggeration, and direct-dialled Hong Kong: Harry Lu’s telephone would not be secure, of course, but the electronic gadgetry in the code room prevented any trace of source if the conversation were intercepted.
    Harry Lu answered on the third ring, gruff-voiced from the sixty cigarettes a day. Charlie identified himself at once and then without pausing said: ‘You clear your end?’
    â€˜No,’ confirmed Lu, aware at once from the query that it was an official call. ‘You?’
    â€˜Yes,’