Page 23 of The Other Woman

“What’s that?” asked Gabriel.

“You’re looking for a scapegoat to explain your failure.”

“I’d be careful about tossing around the wordscapegoat. It makes people like me uneasy.”

Somehow, Seymour managed to maintain a mask of British reserve. “Don’t you dare play that card with me. We go back too far for that.”

“We do indeed. Which is why I thought you might be interested to know that your Head of Station in Vienna is a Russian spy.”

“Alistair Hughes? He’s a fine officer.”

“I’m sure his controllers at Moscow Center feel the same way.” The chamber’s ventilation system roared like an open freezer. “Will you at least give me a hearing?”

“No.”

“In that case, I have no choice but to suspend our relationship.”

Seymour only smiled. “You’re not much of a poker player, are you?”

“I’ve never had much time for trivial pursuits.”

“There’s that card again.”

“Our relationship is like a marriage, Graham. It’s based on trust.”

“In my opinion, most marriages are based either on money or the fear of being alone. And if you divorce me, you won’t have a friend in the world.”

“I can’t operate with you or share intelligence if your Vienna Head is on the Russian payroll. And I’m quite sure the Americans will feel the same way.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me. In fact, I think I’ll tell my good friend Morris Payne about all this in time for your little meeting tomorrow.” Payne was the director of the CIA. “That should liven things up considerably.”

Seymour made no response.

Gabriel glanced at the camera lens above the video screen. “That thing isn’t on, is it?”

Seymour shook his head.

“And no one knows we’re in here?”

“No one but Helen. She adores him, by the way.”

“Who?”

“Alistair Hughes. She thinks he’s dishy.”

“So did the wife of an American diplomat who used to work in Vienna.”

Seymour’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”

“A little bird told me. The same little bird that told me about Alistair Hughes demanding to know the address of the safe flat where I was planning to debrief Kirov.”

“London Control wanted the address, not Alistair.”

“Why?”

“Because it was our responsibility to get Kirov out of Vienna and onto a plane safely. It’s not like ordering a car from Uber. You can’t press a button at the last minute. We had to plan the primary route and put in place a backup in case the Russians intervened. And for that, we needed the address.”