“She can’t go on for much longer.”

“Agreed, but we’ll keep the counteroperation running for as long as she does.”

“And when she dies?”

“You’ll only have one more job to carry out, comrade commander, before you return to Moscow.”

Harry and Emma Clifton: 1978

HARRY AND EMMA CLIFTON

1978

Chapter 47

47

THERE WAS A hesitant tap on the library door. The second in the past seven years.

Harry put down his pen. As Emma was at the hospital and Jessica had returned to London, he could only wonder who would consider interrupting him while he was writing. He swiveled his chair around to face the intruder.

The door opened slowly. Markham appeared in the doorway but didn’t enter the room. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but it’s No.10 on the line and apparently it’s urgent.”

Harry rose from his chair immediately. He wasn’t quite sure why he remained standing when he picked up the phone.

“Please hold on, sir, I’ll put you through to the Cabinet Secretary.”

Harry remained standing.

“Mr. Clifton, it’s Alan Redmayne.”

“Good afternoon, Sir Alan.”

“I rang because I have some wonderful news and I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Tell me Anatoly Babakov has been released?”

“Not yet, but it can’t be long now. I’ve just had a call from our ambassador in Stockholm to say that the Swedish prime minister will be announcing in an hour’s time that Mr. Babakov has been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.”

*   *   *

Within moments of the announcement being made, the phone started to ring, and Harry was made aware for the first time what “off the hook” really meant.

For the next hour he answered questions thrown at him by journalists calling from all over the world.

“Do you think the Russians will finally release Babakov?”

“They should have released him years ago,” responded Harry, “but at least this will give Mr. Brezhnev an excuse to do so now.”

“Will you be going to Stockholm for the ceremony?”

“I hope to be among the audience when Anatoly is presented with the prize.”

“Will you fly to Russia, so you can accompany your friend to Stockholm?”

“He has to be released from jail before anyone can accompany him anywhere.”

Markham reappeared in the doorway, the same anxious look as before on his face. “The King of Sweden is on the other line, sir.” Harry put down one phone and picked up another. He was surprised to find it wasn’t a private secretary on the line, but the King himself.

“I do hope you and Mrs. Clifton will be able to attend the ceremony as my personal guests.”

“We’d be delighted to, Your Majesty,” said Harry, hoping he’d used the correct form of address.

In between repeatedly answering the same questions from yet more journalists, Harry broke off to make a call of his own.