Mightier Than the Sword (The Clifton Chronicles 5)

“I know my mother would appreciate that.”

“It’s the least I can do,” said Giles as he walked over to the side table, picked up the bottle of champagne, and handed it to her. “A small token of my gratitude for all your hard work. I hope you and your mother will enjoy it.”

“It’s very kind of you, Sir Giles,” she whispered, handing the bottle back, “but I wouldn’t get as far as the front door before the Stasi took it away from me,” she added, pointing at the chandelier.

“Then let’s at least share a glass together.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, Sir Giles, considering—”

“Now that we’re on our own, I think you can call me Giles,” he said as he uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses. He raised his. “Let’s hope it won’t be too long befor

e you’re reunited with your father.”

Karin took a sip and then placed the glass on the table. “I must go,” she said, and thrust out her hand.

Giles took it and drew her gently toward him. She pushed him away.

“This mustn’t happen, Giles, because then you’ll only think—”

He started to kiss her before she could say another word. As they kissed, he undid the zip on the back of her dress, and when it fell to the ground he took a pace back, wanting to touch every part of her body at once. He took her back into his arms and when they kissed again, her lips parted as they fell onto the bed. He looked into her brown eyes and whispered, “If you work for the Stasi, don’t tell me until after I’ve made love to you.”

19

GILES WAS SITTING on the front bench in the House of Commons listening to the foreign secretary deliver a statement to the House on the Test and County Cricket Board’s decision to cancel South Africa’s England tour, when he was handed a note from the chief whip. Could I have a word with you following the statement?

Giles always felt that a summons from the chief whip was rather like being called to the headmaster’s study: more likely to be a caning than paeans of praise. Although the chief whip doesn’t sit in the Cabinet, his power is disproportionate to his rank. He was the company sergeant major who was there to make sure the troops were kept in line so the officers’ lives ran smoothly.

As soon as the foreign secretary had answered the last question from the member for Louth about strengthening government sanctions against South Africa’s apartheid regime, Giles slipped out of the chamber into the members’ lobby and strolled across to the chief whip’s office.

The chief’s secretary was clearly expecting him because he was ushered through to the inner sanctum without having to break stride.

As soon as Giles entered the office, he knew from the look on the chief’s face that it had to be a caning, not paeans of praise.

“Not good news, I’m afraid,” said Bob Mellish, taking a large buff-colored envelope from a drawer in his desk and passing it to Giles.

Giles opened the envelope with trembling fingers and pulled out a set of black and white photographs. He studied them for a few moments before he said, “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m not sure I understand you.”

“I just don’t believe Karin was working for the Stasi.”

“Then who else can it have been?” said the chief whip. “Even if she wasn’t on their payroll, God knows what pressure they must have put her under.”

“You have to believe me, Bob, Karin just wasn’t like that. I realize I’ve made a complete fool of myself and let the government and my family down badly. But one thing I’m certain of, Karin is not to blame.”

“I must confess, it’s the first time the Stasi have used photographs. They’ve only ever sent tapes in the past. I’ll have to brief the Foreign Office immediately.”

“I can assure you, we never discussed any government business,” said Giles. “And if anything, she was even more frightened of being caught than I was.”

The chief whip raised an eyebrow. “Nevertheless, I have to deal with the here and now. I’m assuming these photographs are already in the hands of one of the tabloids, so you’d better prepare yourself for an unpleasant phone call. And I have only one piece of advice, Giles—tell Gwyneth before the news breaks.”

“Should I resign?” said Giles, as he gripped the edge of the desk to try to stop his hands shaking.

“That’s not for me to decide. But don’t do anything too hasty. At least wait until you’ve seen the PM. And let me know the moment the press get in touch with you.”

Giles took one more look at some of the photos of himself and Karin, and still refused to believe it.

* * *