“A follow-up call just now when I got back reveals the Riley reappeared parked more or less where it was supposed to be—an hour ago. I’ve arranged for it to be searched and fingerprinted before the owner takes it over again. Even if you give it a good cleaning it’s impossible to commandeer a car and drive it about without leaving some trace of yourself behind. It’s hard to make the general public understand that but Armiger isn’t the general public. He’s Met-trained and now FBI. He’s aware of the pitfalls. But he’s not without the arrogance of the Metropolitan men when it comes to policing. Some of them think any police presence worthy of consideration stops at the city limits and out here nothing’s moved on since Robin Hood picked the Sheriff of Nottingham’s girdle-pouch. We’ll see.”
“All this is fine, Joe, if you’re proposing to clap Armiger in irons. I hope you’re not. We need him with his gun-hand free. Our third man. He was doing his job. It’s hard to stomach but I keep coming back to it: he was doing what he was supposed to do—protecting my life. Three guns in that Maybach, Joe, and all ready to point at me. What was a bodyguard to do? A body-guard who’s just the night before been turned loose, remember. We dispensed with his services without a word said and abandoned him in London. I felt bad about that.”
“He might have tried arresting her and bringing her in for questioning.”
Joe weathered the pitying look he was given.
“He’d met Natalia. I think he formed an impression. Though not one he wanted to share with me. He’d figured out what she was up to and, I’ll bet, who was employing her. He knew she could talk herself out of any tight spot and strike again when no one was looking. He didn’t trust me not to be taken in by her one more time, I guess. Look here, Joe, you don’t decide a rearing cobra is harmless because it hasn’t bitten you yet. You don’t ask it to hold off while you canvass other opinions. Armiger assessed the risk and wasn’t prepared to take it. He knew he couldn’t cover the two thugs and Natalia both when they unaccountably split so he went for the head and left us to us to deal with the easier bits. He knows you and he knows me, Joe. He calculated that neither one of us was capable of dealing decisively with a woman. Right?” He waited until he received an assenting nod from Joe before continuing: “It worked, which made it a good decision. Decisions are always judged by body count, you know that. As far as I’m concerned, Armiger is clear of blame and has, once more, demonstrated his sound judgement, his loyalty and, yes, his integrity.”
Seeing the sudden frown the word triggered, he went on, his tone more emollient. “Look, Joe, I’m not insensitive. It’s clear to me there’s some kind of connection between you and William. A very uneasy connection. If—”
“It’s all right, Kingstone. I can work with him. In fact I much prefer to have him where I can see him. I just wanted you to be aware of what he’s capable of doing.”
“How did he know you were down here, Joe? Did he have this address?”
“No. No one had. The Maybach party were invited to come and introduce themselves from the moment they picked up my bag from Alfred. But they had to get as far as my Chelsea flat to do that. I keep my phone number quiet for reasons you can imagine and when I’m away, my calls get put through to Alfred.”
“So who’s got your Chelsea number, apart from your family?”
Joe was thinking hard. “The Commissioner and James Bacchus. Armiger may have had it from way back when we were working on a fast-moving case down here in Surrey in twenty-six. Would he have kept it over seven years and an ocean?”
Kingstone nodded. “He’s a man who likes to keep records. Like his boss, Hoover. It’s said that J.E.H. has a file on anyone who catches his interest and they’re stored away against future need. Anyone else?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. In a rush of gratitude and carried away by admiration for a clever and gallant old dame, I pencilled it on the back of one of my Scotland Yard cards and handed it to Hermione Herbert. The Dowser in Chief who saved the dancer’s body from the mud. The card disappeared into the depths of her handbag. The steel clasp clicked and there I’ve no doubt it remains. Safer than the Bank of England. She’ll hardly have been broadcasting the information—she’s so discreet she hardly trusts me, I think!”
“That all?”
“Yes. Armiger knew about the Harley Street place. He could have been keeping a watch on it and just followed the Maybach on the off chance, nicking a Riley from round the corner to do it. Or, he could have lurked near my flat in Chelsea and picked them up there. That’s what I would have done.” He gave a thin smile. “And, after all, I trained the bugger!”
“Either way it shows he’s still at his post,” said Kingstone. “As I said. He’s stayed with me whether you like it or not. Right. He’s still in position—shall we assume that?”
“Wait a minute,” Joe said thoughtfully, still gnawing at the bone. “Why has he stayed with you? Would he deliberately countermand one of their orders? So emphatically as to assassinate their own agent and imperil their hired guns? Men who might well talk if they were taken prisoner? Dangerous procedure, wouldn’t you say?”
Kingstone’s frown deepened. “I’ll say! I agree—a piece of behaviour that takes some accounting for.” He gave Joe a challenging smile. “I see you’re not willing to entertain the notion that the man may simply have acted out of a sense of loyalty to me. Ok, I’m his boss, but I had thought more than that—his companion in arms, his friend. You don’t need to have known someone forever, Joe, to know that you’d protect them with your own life. Why—any villain threatening you or Brutus would have me to reckon with and I’ve known you both for all of two minutes. Is that too sentimental for you?” He finished awkwardly, clearing his throat.
Joe laughed to dissipate the man’s unease. “Sentimental? You’re talking to a man who was reared on the stories of Dumas and Walter Scott! We’re a nation of people who die regularly throwing themselves into rivers to save their spaniels and chasing armed thieves out of jewellers’ shops. But I’m thinking it’s all a lot simpler than unravelling the twisted rope of Armiger’s character. It’s all down to us. We really messed up their plans by rushing off down here.”
“They wouldn’t take kindly to that!”
“They gave Natalia her orders and she obliged with the tools she had to hand. They may not even have consulted Armiger. With no instruction to the contrary, he was simply doing the job he’d been given—watching your back. As far as the Nine Men are concerned, Armiger is still their man. Not in thrall to you. I know you find it hard to do but look at it from their point of view for a moment. He’s upper echelon now, let’s not forget. No longer executive level. Of particular value, or influence, you say. But, by doing his bodyguarding so effectively, he’s fouled up their scheme.”
“They don’t know it was Armiger who pulled the trigger. Even the Surrey police don’t know who did. They’ll assume it was you, Joe. Or even me. They’ll have put Natalia’s death down on our account. William’s slate is still clean! We can use him.”
His eagerness was greeted by a long silence but Kingstone battled on, undimmed. “There, that’s one side accounted for: The Three Men. Are you ready to consider the opposition?”
“Let me show you some ugly mugs and see if they suggest anything,” Joe said. “I’ll get my briefcase. Here we are. Let’s start at the top. With the men you claim are untouchable by the Met’s sticky fingers. Don’t be too sure about that! Bacchus, you see, managed to get these to my desk for me yesterday afternoon. You’ll recognise them.”
He took seven photographs from a file and fanned them out on a footstool.
“Well! What do you know!” Kingstone chortled. “We thought Hoover was on the ball but I guess Special Branch’s filing system takes—what did Lydia say?—the biscuit. You’ve got ’em all! Got names to go with the faces?”