Honour Among Thieves

father was a local lawyer who ended up in jail for fraud. I was so ashamed that when my mother died, I took a post at Beirut University because I could no longer face anyone I knew.' Hannah looked up and her eyes began to show sympathy. It gave Scott the confidence to go on. 'I do not work for Mossad in any capacity, nor have I ever done so.' Her lips formed a straight line. 'My real job is nowhere near as romantic as that. After Beirut I returned to America to become a university professor.' She looked mystified, and then her expression suddenly changed to one of anxiety. 'Oh, yes,' he said, his words beginning to sound slightly slurred, 'this time I'm telling the truth. I teach Constitutional Law at Yale. Let's face it, no one would make up a story like that,' he added, trying to laugh. He drank more coffee. It tasted less bitter than the first cup. 'But I am also what they call in the trade a part-time spy, and as it's turned out, not a very good one. Despite many years of training and lecturing other people on how it should be done.' He paused. 'But that was only in the classroom.' She looked more anx'ous. 'You need have no fears,' he said, trying to reassure her. 'I work for the good side, though I suppose even that depends on where you're looking from. I'm currently a temporary Field Officer with the CIA.' 'The CIA?' she stammered in disbelief. 'But they told me..." 'What did they tell you?' he asked quickly. 'Nothing,' she said, and lowered her head again. Had she already known about his background, or perhaps guessed his original story didn't add up? He didn't care. All he wanted to do was tell the woman he loved everything about himself. No more lies. No more deceit. No more secrets. 'Well, as I'm confessing, I mustn't exaggerate,' he continued. 'I go to Virginia twelve times a year to discuss with agents the problems they've faced while working in the field. I was full of bright ideas to assist them in the peace and comfort of Langley, but I'll treat them with more respect now I've experienced some of the problems they come up against, especially having made such a mess of things myself.' 'It can't be true,' she said suddenly. 'Tell me you're making it up, Simon.' 'I'm afraid not, Hannah. This time it's all true,' he said. 'You must believe me. I only ended up in Paris after years of demanding to be tested in the field, because, with all my theoretical knowledge, I assumed I'd be a whizz if they just gave me the chance to prove myself. Scott Bradley, Professor of Constitutional Law. Infallible in the eyes of his adoring students at Yale and the senior CIA operatives at Langley. There'll be no standing ovation after this performance, of that we can both be sure.' Hannah stood and stared down at him. 'Tell me it's not true, Simon,' she said. 'It mustn't be true. Why did you choose me? Why me?' He stood and took her in his arms. 'I didn't choose you, I fell in love with you. They chose me. My people ... my people needed to find out why Mossad had put you . . . put you in the Jordanian Embassy attached to the Iraqi Interest Section.' He was finding it difficult to remain coherent, and couldn't understand why he felt so sleepy. 'But why you?' she asked, clinging on to him for the first time that evening. 'Why not a regular CIA agent?' 'Because . .. because they wanted to put someone in ... someone who wouldn't be recognised by any of the professionals.' 'Oh, my God, who am I meant to believe?' she said, breaking away. She stared helplessly at him. 'You can believe me, because I'll prove . . . prove all I've said is true.' Scott began to move away from the table. He felt unsteady as he walked slowly over to the sideboard, bent down to pull open the bottom drawer, and after some rummaging around removed a small leather case with the initials S.B. printed in gold on the top right-hand corner. He smiled a triumphant smile and turned back. He attempted to steady himself by resting one hand on the sideboard. He looked towards the blurred figure of the woman he loved, but could no longer see the desperate look on her face. He tried to remember how much he had already told her and how much she still needed to know. 'Oh, my darling, what have I done?' she said, her eyes now pleading. 'Nothing, it's all been my fault,' said Scott. 'But we'll have the rest of our lives to laugh about it. That, by the way, was a proposal. Feeble, I agree, but I couldn't love you any more than I do. You must surely realise that,' he added as