A Delicate Truth

by John Le Carré

Paul and his second – not exactly hard to remember – was Anderson.

an innocent-looking cellphone which he had been assured was modified to the highest state of encryption

But hang on a minute! Paul hasn’t got a bloody wife! Paul Anderson has no wife, no daughter. Paul Anderson’s a bloody hermit!

ice queen of Personnel Department, now grandly rechristened Human Resources for no reason known to man,

That, I’m afraid, is the long and short of it.’

‘The well-being of our nation, for Christ’s sake! The safety of our people, wheresoever they may be. Our core values in times of adversity. All right, our heritage, if you like’ –

‘And would Elliot be his surname or given name, I wonder?’ he hears himself enquire soothingly, as if of a maniac.

We plan to sell our present house while the market holds, and live small until we make the move.’

For further information about Ethical Outcomes, enter your key-code. Possessing no such key-code, and assailed by a sense of trespass, he abandons his researches.

Except that his name isn’t Elliot but Illiot, thanks to the South African accent.

However: it’s your balls that will be in the direct line of fire, should we strike worst-case scenario, which it is my bounden duty to consider.

Aladdin is the most unprincipled fucking merchant of death on the face of this earth bar none,

He eschews all means of electronic communication, including cellphones and harmless-seeming emails.

The conspirators will be unarmed, Paul, Elliot was saying. Such is the degree of trust between a pair of total bastards. No guns, no bodyguards. We tiptoe in, we grab our man, we tiptoe out, we were never there. Jeb’s boys push from the land, Ethical pulls from the sea.

is enough to tell him that the passenger is the corpulent, very animated Aladdin,

Aladdin can get himself laid on his way to sell Manpads to his mate Punter. It’s only logical.’

comes: Positive Identification.

‘You’re doing an excellent job, Paul. It will not go unnoticed. Tell Jeb. That’s an order.’

We have water. Sparkling water.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this, Paul. We’ll be shooting at ghosts in the dark. Elliot doesn’t know the half of it. I think you agree with me.’

illicitly made by himself, from the Private Office of a Minister of the Crown whom it was his duty to serve and advise to the best of his considerable ability.

Tobias, whose wondrous filial virtues are set down in the ancient scripts.

the striver in him knew that his first aim must be to rise in the system he dreamed of liberating.

cold fish,

larceny.

Junior Minister of State to the Foreign Office, Fergus Quinn, MP, latterly of the Ministry of Defence.

At first sight, nonetheless, all augurs well.

if this is something I should know – then come out with it or go to Human bloody Resources.’

What’s inside those plump, hand-delivered, double-sealed, waxed envelopes that pour in from the little back rooms of Downing Street

And as is often the way of life, from the moment Matti lets the name Crispin out of the box, it seems unable to let Toby go.

‘I’ll tell you bits,’ she decides finally. ‘Not all, but more than I should.’

then what’s the bloody man doing lobbying the House of Lords?

‘But Monsieur le Ministre left the hotel in his limousine two hours ago,’ he exclaims, in haughty Belgian French.

It was a Citroën sedan and the chauffeur was known personally to the concierge.

chasseur,

It is the shadow of a man: a trim, straight-backed man of average height in a crisp dark suit and tie.

Jay Crispin, in the flesh at last, and high time too.

President and CEO of an otherwise undescribed body calling itself Ethical Outcomes Incorporated.

For days and nights,

Mourne, her castle in Ireland, where she is reputed to take her lovers.

‘How the fuck should I know?’ he demands irritably – to which Oakley offers only a sympathetic ‘How indeed?’

The two men stand side by side on the doorstep, waiting in the moonlight for Toby’s cab.

Extraordinarily, Oakley holds out his hand. Toby takes it and discovers that it is damp with sweat.

Dinna fash yersel’! Couple of handshakes all round and we’re home free.’

All life has ceased.

‘Odd. I have no memory of any such conversation. If it took place, which I dispute, then it was surely private, alcohol-induced and not in any circumstance for quotation.’

His posting to Beirut followed five days later.

if this isn’t the land they have loved and served for so long, where is?

Calderero

Talabartero