Page 124 of The Other Woman

“So you told Sasha about Alistair, and Sasha put in place an operation to make it appear as though your former lover was the mole.”

“Problem solved.”

“Not quite,” said Gabriel. “Did you know they were planning to kill him?”

“This isn’t beanbag, Monsieur Allon. You know that better than anyone.”

The British desk at Moscow Center, thought Gabriel, would soon be in capable hands; she was more ruthless than they were. Gabriel had a thousand more questions, but suddenly all he wanted was to leave. Rebecca Manning appeared to sense his restiveness. She crossed and uncrossed her legs and ran a palm vigorously over the rails of her corduroy trousers.

“I was wondering”—her British accent had returned—“whether I might impose on you.”

“You already have.”

She frowned in consternation. “Sarcasm is surely your right, but please hear me out.”

With a small movement of his head, Gabriel invited her to continue.

“My mother...”

“Yes?”

“She’s well?”

“She’s been living alone in the mountains of Andalusia for almost forty years. How do you think she is?”

“How is her health?”

“A heart problem.”

“A common affliction in women who knew my father.”

“Men, too.”

“You seem to have developed a rapport with her.”

“There was little pleasant about our meeting.”

“But she told you about the—”

“Yes,” said Gabriel, glancing at one of the cameras. “She told me.”

Rebecca was rubbing her palm over her trousers again. “I was w-w-wondering,” she stammered, “whether you might have a word with her on my b-b-behalf.”

“I signed a piece of paper a few minutes ago declaring, among other things, that I would not deliver any messages from you to the outside world.”

“The British government has no power over you. You can do as you choose.”

“Ichoosenot to. Besides,” added Gabriel, “you have the SVR to deliver your mail.”

“My mother loathes them.”

“She’s entitled.”

A silence descended between them. There was only the humming of the lights. It was making Gabriel cross.

“Do you think,” said Rebecca at last, “that she m-m-might... once I’m settled in Moscow...”

“You’ll have to ask her yourself.”