How to Betray Your Country James Wolff (fun to read txt) 📖

most intelligence, that the final word on his career should be such a confounding mixture of fact and fiction, with some of the most significant elements omitted entirely.

The thing that triggered the fight hadn’t really been Lawrence’s repeated and unnecessary references to his wife’s death, if something that lasted fewer than ten seconds and was that one-sided could be called a fight. The first time it was a “recent distressing incident”, the second time it was a “terrible accident”. What had brought the meeting to an abrupt end was Lawrence’s use of her name. “If only Martha was able to see —” he started to say, and August realized he didn’t want to hear the end of the sentence, it was as simple as that, and Lawrence’s chair was suddenly toppling backwards, blood delicately speckling the white wall next to him, and his ribs popped with a dull cracking sound, and August was scrambling for his throat when an arm circled his neck from behind, pulling him back. He didn’t mind too much. He was already feeling much better.

For a while after that there was talk of an assault charge, but it came to nothing. All it would have taken to make the whole thing go away was a suggestion from an appropriately senior officer that making a fuss might damage both the office’s reputation and – more importantly – Lawrence’s prospects for promotion, and who would want that? Better to let it quieten down and allow the bruises to heal, get that high-profile overseas job you’ve had your eye on, try some liaison work for a change, maybe even run an agent or two. Everyone knows it wasn’t your fault, and there’s no way August will darken our door again.

If only overseas hadn’t turned out to be Turkey.

“To tell you the truth,” August said, “I didn’t always dislike him. For a while we were friends. Of sorts.”

“Maybe it is time to forgive him.”

“You could be right. The reason for us falling out was … unusual.”

“Do you think there are any jobs at the embassy? Driver, security guard, interpreter? Anything except cleaner. I can start today.”

“All you’ll need is five minutes to produce a new CV,” said August, and immediately regretted it.

But Youssef smiled broadly, showing off the gaps between his teeth. “For those jobs I have one prepared already. To be honest, I never heard of ‘project manager’ before. Is this really a job?” He pinched the end of his half-smoked cigarette, replaced it in the packet and stood up. “Thank you, Mr August,” he said, holding out his hand. “It was very pleasant to meet you.”

August was still trying to work out why Lawrence had said he was looking forward to seeing him, why he hadn’t simply told Beatrice that August had been fired from government for gross misconduct. There was no way she’d keep him on once she heard that, given that the embassy was her most important client. Was Lawrence planning some kind of showdown so he could watch August being fired for a second time? No doubt he would find that satisfying. But August had come all this way to leave that behind, or so he had thought. The last thing he wanted was another confrontation.

“We haven’t finished the interview yet,” he said, standing up. “Tell you what, I wouldn’t mind a cigarette myself. Shall we take this up to the roof? That way we won’t set off an alarm.”

Youssef followed him up three flights of stairs to a metal door with a bolt but no padlock. The empty blue sky was a rebuke to the cluttered city. Cranes jostled around them like the frames of half-built minarets, and red-tiled roofs fell away sharply down to the water’s edge. They looked across the Bosphorus towards the Asian side of Istanbul.

“That is where I came from,” Youssef said. “And that is where I am going,” he added, turning his face towards Europe.

They leaned against a low wall and smoked in silence. An old satellite dish hanging by a single cable squeaked and tapped against the building opposite. It was rusted in dappled brown patches like cowhide.

“Aren’t you going to ask me another question?” said Youssef finally.

“I can if you want.”

“If I want?”

“All right, why don’t you tell me about a time you’ve successfully overcome an obstacle.”

“Wait, I do not understand. Why are we here? It is still possible to get the job?”

“It’s Beatrice’s opinion that counts, that’s the problem. She didn’t seem convinced you were the right fit. I don’t want you to get your hopes up. If it was up to me I’d give you the job on the spot. Why don’t you treat this as practice for your next interview? There are plenty of other companies out there. If you’re patient I’m sure something suitable will come along.”

“If I am patient?”

“Look, if it’s any consolation, this seems like a pretty rubbish company to me. I’m only sticking around because I haven’t got anywhere else to go. You’re not missing —”

“I have been to maybe fifty interviews and I have three more people to speak to this afternoon.” He looked across the water to the old city. “My goodness. Overcoming an obstacle? Everything is an obstacle. My goodness. Escaping from Syria? Can I use this as an example? Can I talk about the things that Daesh do, can I talk about staying calm when you see men in masks on the road, can I talk about not knowing what to do when they beat your brother in front of you, can I talk about running out of medicine for my daughter, can I talk about the noise in her throat when she has been crying for five hours?”

He took a final drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out against the wall. He looked close to tears. They were both quiet.

“It all depends,” August said finally. He handed Youssef another cigarette. “You’d have to make it sound a bit more impressive. I mean, in the