The Ghost

minister—I speak with experience here—who is less than one hundred percent supportive of the alliance with the United States. Nine—”
    “All right,” I said, holding up my hand. “I get the message.”
    “I have friends in Washington who just can’t believe the way that Lang ran British foreign policy. I mean, they were embarrassed by how much support he gave and how little he got in return. And where has it got us? Stuck fighting a so-called war we can’t possibly win, colluding in methods we didn’t use even when we were up against the Nazis!” Rycart laughed ruefully and shook his head. “You know, in a way, I’m almost relieved to discover there might be a rational explanation for what we got up to in government while he was prime minister. If you think about it, the alternative’s actually worse. At least if he was working for the CIA it makes sense. So now,” he said, patting my knee, “the question is: what are we going to do about it?”
    I didn’t like the sound of that first person plural.
    “Well,” I said, wincing slightly, “I’m in a tricky position. I’m supposed to be helping him with his memoirs. I have a legal obligation not to divulge anything I hear in the course of my work to a third party.”
    “It’s too late to stop now.”
    I didn’t like the sound of that, either.
    “We don’t actually have any proof ,” I pointed out. “We don’t even know for sure that Emmett was in the CIA, let alone that he recruited Lang. I mean, how is this relationship supposed to have worked after Lang got into Number Ten? Did he have a secret radio transmitter hidden in the attic, or what?”
    “This isn’t a joke, my friend,” said Rycart. “I know something of how these things are done from when I was at the Foreign Office. Contact can be managed easily enough. For a start, Emmett was always coming to London, because of Arcadia. It was the perfect front. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole institution wasn’t set up as part of the covert operation to run Lang. The timing would fit. They could have used intermediaries.”
    “But there’s still no proof ,” I repeated, “and short of Lang confessing, or Emmett confessing, or the CIA opening their files, there never will be.”
    “Then you’ll just have to get some proof,” said Rycart flatly.
    “What?” My mouth sagged; my everything sagged.
    “You’re in the perfect position,” Rycart went on. “He trusts you. He lets you ask him whatever you like. He even allows you to tape his answers. You can put words in his mouth. We’ll have to devise a series of questions that gradually entrap him, and then finally you can confront him with the allegation, and let’s see how he reacts. He’ll deny it, but that won’t matter. The mere fact you’re laying the evidence in front of him will put the story on the record.”
    “No it won’t. The tapes are his property.”
    “Yes it will. The tapes can be subpoenaed by the war crimes court, as evidence of his direct complicity with the CIA rendition program.”
    “What if I don’t make any tapes?”
    “In that case, I’ll suggest to the prosecutor that she subpoenas you .”
    “Ah,” I said craftily, “but what if I deny the whole story?”
    “Then I’ll give her this,” said Rycart, and opened his jacket to show a small microphone clipped to the front of his shirt, with a wire trailing into his inside pocket. “Frank is recording every word down in the lobby, aren’t you, Frank? Oh, come on! Don’t look so shocked. What did you expect? That I’d come to a meeting with a complete stranger, who’s working for Lang, without taking any precautions? Except that you’re not working for Lang anymore.” He smiled, showing again that row of teeth, more brilliantly white than anything in nature. “You’re working for me.”

FIFTEEN
    Authors need ghosts who will not challenge them, but will simply listen to what they have to say and understand why they did what they did.
    Ghostwriting
    AFTER A FEW SECONDS I started to swear, fluently and indiscriminately. I was swearing at Rycart and at my own stupidity, at Frank and at whoever would one day transcribe the tape. I was swearing at the war crimes prosecutor, at the court, the judges, the media. And I would have gone on for a lot longer if my telephone hadn’t started to ring—not the one I’d been given to contact Rycart but the one I’d brought from London. Needless to say, I’d forgotten to switch