“I should have known,” said Leamas, and his voice had the odd, faulty note of a very angry man, “I should have guessed you’d never have the guts to do your own dirty work, Fiedler. It’s typical of your rotten little half-country and your squalid little Service that you get big uncle to do your pimping for you. You’re not a country at all, you’re not a government, you’re a fifth-rate dictatorship of political neurotics.” Jabbing his finger in Fiedler’s direction, he shouted:
