A Gathering of Spies Read Free Page A

hands together. “That’s the rub, isn’t it? The nature of the game is the game. I can’t tell you anything without telling you everything. And I can’t tell you everything, old chap, until I’m satisfied that you’re on our side—completely.”
    Winterbotham drained the mug in his hand. “My time may be worthless these days,” he said, “but it’s all the time I have. You know whose side I’m on, Andrew. Get to the point.”
    â€œYou don’t understand, Harry. If I tell you what we’re up to, here, then there’s no turning back. Either you’re with us or you’re not. And if you’re not …” He hesitated, looking at the fire.
    â€œIf I’m not?”
    â€œIf I choose to bring you into this and it doesn’t work out, you could not be allowed to … remain at liberty.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œAnd I’ve no wish to deny you your liberty, old chap.”
    â€œOf course not.”
    â€œSo I would need to be absolutely certain, before I could tell you any more, that you are the right man for the job—that you will do whatever is required of you.”
    â€œI suppose,” Winterbotham said, “that I couldn’t promise that until I knew what would be required of me, could I?”
    Taylor shook his head. “That won’t do.”
    â€œIt’s the best I can offer.”
    â€œThen I’ve wasted your time. I’m sorry to have brought you out here. Although I did enjoy the game.”
    He stood up suddenly and began to move toward the front door, leaving his drink by the chessboard.
    â€œI’ll have Fredricks take you back. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention—”
    â€œThis is hardly fair, Andrew.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou can’t expect me to offer my services if I don’t know what I’m volunteering for.”
    â€œPerhaps not. Well, then, I’m sorry to have—”
    â€œSurely you can give me a clue.”
    â€œI’m afraid not.”
    He opened the front door, paused, and then turned to look at Winterbotham.
    â€œHave a think on it, Harry,” he suggested. “Colonel Fredricks will give you my card. Ring me if you change your mind.”
    Winterbotham looked back at him for a moment, without moving. Then he stood, formally, and buttoned his tweed jacket. He stepped out past Taylor without saying a word, and made for the car by the side of the road.
    Taylor closed the door behind him.
    The man who had been listening from the next room stepped in.
    â€œI told you,” the man said, “he doesn’t want to have anything to do with it. He just wants to sit it out.”
    Taylor shook his head. “Bloody hell,” he said.
    PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY
    JANUARY 1943
    Richard Carter paused before climbing the steps to his front porch, and cocked his head to one side, listening. He was a tall, gangly man wearing an oversized, ragged winter coat; his hair was thin and gray. With his head cocked, he bore an uncanny resemblance to a scarecrow.
    He couldn’t hear any sounds coming from inside the house. Perhaps Catherine was taking a nap, or perhaps she had gone out into town to do some shopping. He hoped it was the former. He didn’t think his news could wait.
    He trotted up the steps and burst through the front door, making as much noise as possible. If he could stir up enough racket, he thought, maybe he would be spared the responsibility of waking her.
    â€œCat!” he bellowed. “Hello! Anybody home?”
    He walked a quick circuit through the living room, through the tiny dining room, into the kitchen, peeking out into the backyard. By the time he had returned to the foyer she was coming down the stairs, rubbing at her eyes blearily.
    â€œDarling,” he said, “come into the living room. I’ve got news. Wonderful news.”
    As she came off the lowest riser, he steered her,