Section 2

At Clapham Junction Wiggins fumbled through the notes and small change in his pockets, paying off the taxi. He realised that he would probably have insufficient money to pay cash for his rail ticket. Even if he did, then he would need cash the next day to pay his way.
He decided it would be best to use a cash machine near the railway station. They would be able to pinpoint that location but there were so many places he might go from there, Kent, Surrey, Sussex.
Furnished with cash he went to purchase his ticket. In the taxi he had decided that he would not go to Coulsdon. That was too easily traceable, A careless remark could give him away. Anyone in the service could guess how to find out whether he had been in contact and what he had been told. It came to him that it had been no bad thing to draw cash near the railway station; it would look as if he was going where the department has sent him. He would not go too far away from the town. There could be an advantage in being nearby. In his mind he debated the relative merits of Purley and Redhill. In the end he chose Purley as being nearer to London.
He bought a ticket and soon boarded a train bound for Brighton, stopping at Purley, Coulsdon, Merstham and Redhill on its route.
The train was moderately busy. The rush hour proper had not begun. Most of the passengers were school children. The adults who boarded were a mix of parents, school staff, to judge by the piles of books and papers they produced to work on as soon as they had found a seat, and shoppers on saver tickets that required them to leave the capital before four-thirty. Wiggins inspected every person, young or old who passed before him as they entered the carriage or looked for a seat.
He watched as a young man in a suit that seemed worn and shapeless strode down the carriage and into the next one, looking for a seat where he would have no companionship thrust at him. Wiggins paid the man no more attention and would have been surprised, had he been alert enough to notice, to see that once the man had secured a seat in the carriage ahead and slung his jacket carelessly into it by way of a reservation he came back to the connecting door and stared into Wiggins's carriage, making sure that Wiggins was still in his seat. Satisfied of this, once the train began to take its first faltering movements to draw out of the station the man went back to his seat. At East Croydon and again at Purley Oaks he again went to the connecting door to reassure himself that Wiggins was still on the train. At Purley the young man pushed his way to the platform as soon as soon as he saw that Wiggins had left the carriage, then stayed by the open door, ready to swing back aboard if Wiggins re-boarded the train.

The young man enjoyed this game of cat and mouse. He was especially proud to have been assigned to the task of trailing the legendary John Wiggins. He understood enough of the history of his service to know that a man did not come through twenty-five years work in East Germany untainted by any suspicion of duplicity or venality who was not an expert at field craft. He had in his own training taken part in exercises conducted by Wiggins and attended the subsequent debriefs and analysis in which Wiggins attempted to impart the philosophy of caution and checking to which he attributed his long service in the field for the East German Office. Privately he doubted that he would succeed in keeping Wiggins under surveillance but he would never admit that to his superiors. He wondered if the whole thing was some elaborate exercise aimed at testing his skills or, worse yet, testing if Wiggins's competence was still all it should be.
He knew that part of his role was to watch for and observe, if possible, any other parties who might have Wiggins or any contact he made under observation and to report conclusions on the identity and objectives of any such persons, It troubled him that he had seen none. Perhaps he was concentrating too much on Wiggins. Perhaps his masters were more interested in those persons than in John Wiggins.
He looked round, over his shoulder, up the platform to see who else was leaving the train. He saw nothing he deemed suspicious in the crowd of school children surging down the platform. He turned back to look down the platform in time to see John Wiggins, going through the exit door. He slammed the carriage door and strode after his quarry,

Wiggins sauntered through Purley High Street. He stopped often, looking at the boards in the windows of the Estate Agents, consulting menus outside cafés and restaurants, a man caught up in a town which he has no special interest in visiting beyond the interview for which he is perhaps a little early or the meeting that has ended a little sooner than expected.
His diligence was rewarded. There was a young man following him. He turned over his options in his mind. Of course he could take measures to evade his tail. He thought it would not be difficult. If he did that then he would not know what was the nature of the young man's interest in him. It would be useful to know who he was working for and what they wanted.
Wiggins made his way back to a café he had noticed earlier. It was small, not brightly lit, busy but not crowded. It would be easy to strike up an acquaintance with his tail if the man followed him into the café, He made sure the young man saw where he was going and entered the premises.
For a while he stood looking at the chalkboard on which the day's special offers were marked. He glance back to the entrance and saw the young man approaching it. Wiggins went slowly to the counter, pausing to look over some of the items displayed. He ordered coffee and made some show of choosing between a doughnut or a scone to accompany it. As he was paying he knew that the young man who had been following him was right behind him. As he turned he stumbled, slopping coffee on the arm of the man's suit.
"Oh. I am sorry. Let me —" Wiggins put his coffee and scone back on the counter, reached for a handful of serviettes and began to dab at the man's sleeve.
"Really, there's no need —"
"But your sleeve —" Wiggins stopped. "If you think so. Let me at least buy you a coffee, tea, whatever you were going to get." As if he sensed the man's refusal of the offer he went on, "I insist. it really is so clumsy of me." He turned to the counter again. "I'll pay for what this man wants."
"Tea," the young man mumbled. "Thank you," he added to Wiggins.
When his tea was served and Wiggins had paid he led the way to a table. As soon as they were seated, one on either side of the table, Wiggins leaned forward.
"Are you following me?" he asked.
"Me? Following? No. What gives you that idea?"
"Perhaps because you have just walked the length of the High Street and back behind me and then you have come in here after me."
"Certainly not."
"I think so. Who are you working for?"
"You wouldn't seriously expect me to tell you that if I were following you, surely?"
"What harm does it do?"
Without waiting for a reply Wiggins went on, "None at all. It merely confirms or denies the suspicions we inevitably have about each other and offers us the opportunity to combine to further our mutual interest or to abandon our respective plans in the knowledge that they have now been compromised."
"That assumes that I am following you and that you merit being followed."
"Shall we say then that I believe that I may well merit being followed."
"Why?"
Wiggins looked straight into the man's eyes. "Because I am an agent of the British Secret Service."
"I know. And because I know that to be true I will tell you that I am too."
"Section?" Wiggins asked.
The young man hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders. "European Department, German section, under Major Crane,."
Wiggins looked puzzled. "Crane?" he asked.
"Replaced Colonel Beevers about a month ago."
Wiggins nodded. "I hadn't heard that. You worked under Jim Beevers, then?"
The young man nodded.
"And your name is?"
He hesitated. Then he shrugged again. "Fairfax, Seb Fairfax."
Wiggins extended his hand across the table. "John Wiggins. But you knew that."
"I was at the school when you lectured on surveillance and counter measures."
"I thought I'd seen you somewhere. What brought you in to this?"
"A wound. I was in Iraq. A man blew himself up in front of my patrol. I spent six months in hospital being shown how to cope with it. Missed the funerals of my sergeant and a rifleman. That was the really tough bit. They wouldn't let me go back. I went to Germany, Osnabruck. Everybody thought I was in charge of the contractors on base security. I was being shown the ropes on intelligence gathering."
"Then you went to the school?"
"Six weeks. Now I'm on deployment. How do you think I'm doing?"
"You're not bad at it. I'm guessing you know a lot more about my movements than you're letting on."
"I've said nothing."
"Exactly. Where did you pick me up?"
The young man shrugged.
"Right answer. I'd guess you found me in central London and followed me out."
Seb said nothing.
"OK. You were on the train. But I didn't spot you until I got here. I was looking for you in the High Street. If you know what you're looking for you soon see the pattern. There's no reason I would see you everywhere I went if you weren't following me. You need to ring the changes. Take off the jacket. Have a hat and take it off or put it on. You know that if you heard me lecture."
"I was detailed at short notice. I came wearing my work clothes."
"Admin; no appreciation of life in the field. You should look into getting a wardrobe together for surveillance ops. A hat, a jacket or a coat you don't mid jettisoning if need be. Mind you sometimes you'll find that Joe Public will be so concerned if you get up and leave your coat behind." He chuckled. "Something to watch out for. Never mind, you did well."
"Thanks. You're supposed be going to Coulsdon. Why did you get off the train in Purley?"
"Ah. You know that do you?"
Fairfax nodded.
"That, Seb Fairfax, is the element of surprise in the chess game we call intelligence. You know. Who else knows."
"The Major told me."
Wiggins raised his eyebrows. "You're working direct to him?"
Fairfax wriggled and did not answer.
"Your silence implies the affirmative as the analysts would say."
Fairfax looked rueful.
"Now, why does Major Crane take such a personal interest in the misfortunes of an old war horse like me?" Wiggins mused aloud. "Do you have a view on that, Seb?"
"I think you'll find Major Crane very fair, very much committed to sorting out what may be wrong in the East German office. I couldn't really say more than that. I'm sure you understand."
Wiggins stood up. "Well I must be going."
"I'm sure that the Major had nothing to do with whatever has brought you here tonight, sir," Fairfax insisted.
"But you could be mistaken." Wiggins walked out into the street.