He turned away impatiently. “They had no reason to kill her in any case, did they?”

“She’d blown one of their cells.”

“That would be no reason.”

“I thought so.”

But this was why I’d lost. If it had been anyone but Katia I would have chanced it. The risk wasn’t high: but the risk was to her. And I couldn’t tell Parkis because he wouldn’t have understood.

“How deeply involved were you, Quiller, with this girl?”

“That’s none of your bloody business. I went into Bratislava, I did the job and I got out again. That’s all Control was concerned with.”

He turned away and took a couple of steps and turned back and asked tonelessly: “How did you kill him?”

“Windpipe.” My arm still felt the strain: I hadn’t been able to use my left hand to increase the force because the plump woman might have turned round again and seen his face. He’d gone down slowly, sliding against me as I eased him to the floor. My strength had appalled me, because I knew it was abnormal, fired by the rage; but I had exulted in what I was doing. The only unpleasant thing was that he’d had bad breath.

Parkis wasn’t looking at me. He said: “He’d been following you. Did you know?”

“Of course I knew!”

“Where had he first got on to you?”

“Knightsbridge.”

He swung into movement again and said with sharp emphasis: “We received a complaint.”

“Oh, really? So you weren’t certain it was me.”

“Not until you admitted it. But surely that’s academic?”

He meant I would have admitted it anyway, if he’d asked me point blank.

I suppose I would have.

“Yes.”

We’re allowed some kind of a private life outside the Bureau; and this thing between Novikov and me had been a private matter. Parkis wouldn’t normally have the right to question me on it but of course I’d stirred something up and there was a risk of the Bureau’s being involved unless they could put out a massive smoke-screen. I thought there must have been another man on that train; someone who’d seen what happened; and I was relieved there hadn’t been because I’d been thinking I must have missed him.