8 : Vader

Within a minute there were five or six of them round me, forming a circle. 'His face,' they kept telling each other. The first one had raised his arm and held it like that until a captain came up, the heels of his polished black boots clinking on the hard surface: I think they were iron-capped. 'His face, Captain,' the first one said. 'What have you done to your face?' The captain pulled my hand away and stared at the wound. 'I fell against some railings outside my apartment.' 'When?' His breath steamed against my face. 'An hour ago, when -' 'An hour ago. Did you have an accident?' 'Yes, I slipped on the snow -' 'Did you have an accident in your car?' Others came up. Behind them I caught a glimpse of the woman in the shawls, staring at me with her bright eyes, shocked. 'When did he have the accident?' It was another captain. 'He's lying.' 'How did he tear his coat?' 'Papers. Show me your papers.' I could feel blood trickling on my chin: the wound had opened when the captain had pulled my hand away. 'Kapista Kirov. That tells us nothing.' They came closer, gathering round like boys who'd found an injured animal. More of them came, and one of them said: 'He is the man I saw running away from the car.' 'Are you sure?' 'I was there! Of course I'm sure.' They all started talking at once. Capsule. 'Take him along. Four of you.' 'March!' People stood perfectly still in the falling snow, watching us as we walked past them towards the roadway. Three Black Ravens had already pulled up alongside the kerb; their engines were still running. The rear doors of the nearest one swung open with a bang and I got to it when they hustled me inside: it was in my hand by the time I sat down on the padded bench. The rear doors slammed and the steel bar was dropped across outside. Four of them sat with me, watching me but not talking. 'I don't understand,' I told the captain. 'I fell against some railings. You're making a mistake.' 'Perhaps.' I went on talking to him, explaining that I wasn't the man they wanted. He shrugged at intervals. The box was in my hand but I hadn't decided yet. I couldn't get the capsule out while I was sitting here: they were watching me the whole time. Dzerzhinsky Square, through the barred windows, and the Children's World department store. Then, just opposite, Lubyanka. I had no information. The choice was simply heads or tails, black or white. Ignatov had known I was an agent and had told them so, or he hadn't. If he had known, and had told them, then I risked betraying London when they brought the pressure on and my system began overloading. If I wanted to avoid that risk, I would have to take the capsule within the next few seconds, and blow the fuse. 'You can open up!' the captain called out. Hands hit the steel bar upwards against the rear doors. Once inside Lubyanka I would be closely watched and meticulously searched, if they were doing their job. They would know there were two critical points at which an active intelligence agent is liable to take his capsule: within minutes of his arrest, and when the interrogation began breaking him. Woodison had done it; so had Racklaw; so had Fane. The pressure had got too much: not just the pressure of their last arrest and interrogation but of all the other arrests and interrogations they'd been through