I Am Pilgrim(56)

‘Shut up,’ I said – something he probably wasn’t used to hearing. I was staring at the table and, when I looked up, I spoke low enough to ensure it was for his ears only.

‘Right now,’ I said, ‘I’m gonna break all the rules of my former profession – I’m going to tell you the truth about something. This is probably the only time you’ll ever hear it from someone in my line of work, so listen carefully.

‘You did a remarkable job in finding me. If I ever did another edition of the book, I would include your work for sure. It was brilliant.’

He sort of shrugged – flattered, I think, really proud, but too modest to express it.

‘You found a lot of names, unravelled a lot of cover stories, but you didn’t find out anything about what I actually did for my country, did you?’

‘That’s true,’ Bradley replied. ‘I’m not sure I wanted to. I figured anything that secret was best left alone.’

‘You’re right about that. So let me tell you. I arrested people, and those I couldn’t arrest I killed. At least three times I arrested them first and then I killed them.’

‘Jesus,’ he whispered. ‘Our country does that?’

‘I think homicide detectives and judges have a name for it, don’t they? I can tell you, though, those sort of actions can weigh heavily on a man’s spirit – especially as he gets older. One thing I can promise you: nobody could ever accuse me of discrimination. I was ecumenical in my work – I took down Catholics and Arabs, Protestants, atheists and at least a few Jews. The only ones who seemed to miss out were the Zoroastrians. Believe me, I would have included them too if I knew exactly who they were. Trouble is, a lot of the people I hurt – their friends and family, mostly – aren’t active practitioners of what you and I might call Christian principles, Mr Bradley. Specifically, they don’t care too much for the bit about turning the other cheek. You know the Serbs? They’re still angry about a battle they lost in 1389. Some people say the Croats and Albanians are worse. To people like that a few decades hunting me wouldn’t even count as a weekend. I’m telling you this so that you can understand – I came to Paris to live in anonymity. I’ve been trying to reach for normal. Tonight hasn’t exactly been good news, so I won’t be running any workshop, I’m running for my life.’

I got up and held out my hand. ‘Goodbye, Mr Bradley.’

He shook hands, and this time made no attempt to stop me. The courtyard had emptied and Bradley cut a forlorn figure sitting alone among the candles as I made my way out.

‘Good luck,’ I called back. ‘The seminar’s a great idea, the country needs it.’ I turned to continue on my way – and came face to face with a woman.

She smiled: ‘I take it from the look on my husband’s face the answer was no.’ It was Marcie. Bradley must have told her where we were when he phoned her.

‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘I can’t take part – he knows why.’

‘Thank you for giving him the time, though,’ she responded quietly. ‘For spending so long listening to him.’

There was no resentment or anger – her only concern seemed to be her husband’s welfare. I liked her instantly.

Bradley turned away from watching us and tried to attract the waiter’s attention, calling for the bill.

‘You know, Ben admires you tremendously,’ Marcie said. ‘I don’t suppose he told you, but he read the book three times just for pleasure. He always says he wishes he could have done half the things you wrote about.’

For a moment I glimpsed a different Bradley – a top-flight investigator who believed he had never played in a league big enough to match his talent. More than most people, I knew that professional regret was a terrible thing to live with and, as often happened, I started thinking about two little girls and what I did in Moscow a long time ago.

Marcie had to touch my arm to break me out of the alley of my memories, and I saw she was handing me a business card. ‘It’s our number in New York. If you ever get a chance, call him – I don’t mean now, some time in the future.’ She saw my reluctance and smiled. ‘A few years would be fine.’

But still I didn’t take it. ‘He’s a good man,’ she said seriously. ‘The best I’ve known; better than most people could ever imagine. It would mean a lot to him.’

Of course I knew I would never call but it seemed so unnecessarily hurtful not to take it that I nodded. As I was putting it in my pocket, Bradley turned back, and he and Marcie’s eyes met for a moment across the silent courtyard.