The Oktober Projekt by R. J. Dillon Page A

jitters because he thought he’d been tagged and wasn’t
making much sense.’
    ‘Just like you, Nick,’ quipped Soleby.
    ‘Go to hell.’
    ‘You see Nick, we just can’t seem to understand why Viper would
be regarded as very important to his own lot or to us. According to his case
officer, he wasn’t the type to jump ship. It’s more fiction than fact,’ sighed
Soleby. ‘I would be inclined to suggest that he was just playing us along,
trying to sell us a cock and bull story for an increase in his monthly cash.’
    ‘I think you’re right,’ said Nick, from behind gritted teeth,
remembering the mess someone had made of the little accountant’s wife and
nephew, which was a lot of trouble for a lowly agent with nothing to sell.
    ‘Let’s take it from the top again,’ suggested McEntee, in an
inquisitional hiss.
    Which is exactly what they did. McEntee and Soleby smugly
ignoring his explanations, going for disorientation by hurling names and facts
in random order. Varying routines, alternating roles at each session,
compounding the minutes into hours until he’d had enough as they entered the
afternoon. At half-three McEntee and Soleby sick of their own voices withdrew
for a conference, locking him in with a watery cup of tea and a Penguin
biscuit.
    On their return, McEntee was flushed and Soleby seemed to have
been forced to witness the burning of books. They’ve had to admit defeat
thought Nick, and they’ve been hauled over the coals for their abject failure.
    ‘For the moment,’ McEntee said, the words burning his tongue,
‘You’re at liberty to leave.’
    ‘Ta, thanks very much,’ said Nick, up on his feet in seconds.
    Collecting the dossier, Soleby stood to one side as McEntee led
the retreat gliding towards the door. ‘Catch you next time, Nick.’
    ‘I’ll save you some time, I’ll have my false confession already
typed up.’
    ‘No need for sarcasm,’ snapped Soleby following in the pocket
of air left by his colleague.
    Out in the corridor Nick was held in check by a pair of new
minders. He was considering making a scene when Blackmore and Hawick turned the
corner, total displeasure oozing from Hawick’s every pore. With a backward jab
of his thumb Blackmore sent the minders retreating to a safe distance.
    ‘Not the sort of ruddy home coming I’d like myself,’ confessed
Blackmore, a sly smile turning up the left corner of his mouth, ‘but we need to
be sure, Nick,’ he explained, ‘seems someone’s telling us porkies and it’s a
priority we discover who.’
    ‘Let me get back to work and I’ll give you a name.’
    ‘That’s not an option,’ said Hawick, an inch from Nick’s face.
    ‘What are my options?’
    ‘If you’ve any inkling young Nicholas Torr what that ruddy
Lubov had up his sleeve, I want to know,’ said Blackmore, twisting a cygnet
ring around his little finger. ‘No one’s denying the Ruskies have given you a
rough ride, but Lubov’s claim isn’t stacking up.’
    Trust me and be damned, thought Nick watching Blackmore ease
away, operating as Hawick’s whipper-in. ‘I was just there to babysit…’  
    ‘That is immaterial for the present,’ snapped Hawick cutting
him off. ‘C has decided and I fully support his judicious decision,’ he
continued primly, ‘that as a matter of urgency to safeguard the integrity of
the Service, a full and frank formal inquiry will conduct a root and branch
review of your actions. Until the inquiry sits, I have instructed personnel
that you are suspended, on full pay naturally.’
    ‘Naturally,’ Nick answered, his fists clenched. ‘What about
Wynn, do I carry the can for her as well? ’
    Hawick exchanged a glance with Blackmore. ‘You will have to
account for Wynn’s murder in Hamburg, have no doubt,’ Hawick promised him,
fizzing with authority.
    And this fact alone, that Sally Wynn had died in Hamburg may
not have made Nick any wiser as to why or what Sally Wynn was doing in the
Hanseatic city, but he had