Page 9 of Hidden Passions


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“We only want to help her and protect her.”

“Is that why you put her through that program of yours?”

He takes a long time considering his answer.

“You need to understand, the department was operating under a lot of pressure. There were constant demands for results, the priorities had a very political effort behind them, and the methods were… let’s just say that we don’t operate in the same way now. At least, not nearly as much.”

“When we operate a confidential source, they can be exposed to all kinds of risks. It’s in the nature of the work that we can’t always be there to protect them. Honestly, though? Without being able to go into detail, I would say the particular risks that your mother was exposed to, as well as the very unusual circumstance that she brought into the mix, all that was very unexpected. Nobody could have predicted any of it.”

“Now you really have to tell me.”

“And now you really have to understand that I really can’t tell you anything. I’ve said too much already.”

He folds his hands on the table neatly in front of him. “Today,” he tells me, “she would not be recruited in the way that she was. She maybe should not have been recruited at all. Of course, nobody knew that she was pregnant at the time. She didn’t even know it herself. But that would definitely have been a disqualification.”

“What was she doing for the DEA?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“But something happened. Something out of the ordinary. Is that right?”

“I can’t say any more. I said too much already.”

“But you haven’t told me anything. You haven’t told me who she is, I don’t even know if I know her real name. I don’t know my own mother’s name.”

“We don’t believe any of the names we knew her by are her real name. We’re not even certain we know it now.”

“Tell me some of those names.”

“I can’t”

“One of them.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not possible.”

“Tell me something.”

“I can’t.”

“Then you’re no use to me. You can leave.”

Smith says, “I want you to come with us.”

“Have you got a warrant?”

“No.” He gives me his icy smile. Somebody should talk to him about that. “It’s voluntary. Informal.”

I tell him, gently, “Then you can informally fuck off.”

“It’s for your benefit.” he spreads his hands. But then he stops. “Okay, I know there’s no point in me not being straight with you. It’s partly for your benefit.”

“How?”

“We want to do some tests.”

“Medical tests?”

“Some. Some other tests. Aptitudes. Abilities.”

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