'I took her because she needed to be protected from the people around her.' Fleming looked at Geers.
The Minister picked up a sheet of paper tucked into the bulky file before him. 'Perhaps you'd care to comment on the fact that Mr Osborne's assistant, the man supposed to have accompanied him to Thorness on the night of the fire, admitted when questioned late this afternoon that he did not go there.'
'You'll have to ask Osborne who he did take, won't you?'
said Fleming.
'We shall,' the Minister glowered. 'In the meantime, Dr Fleming, you must consider yourself under surveillance. To avoid the necessity of formal arrest and indictment at Bow Street, with all the unpleasant sensationalism affecting both ourselves and you and the girl, I hope you will cooperate sensibly. I cannot force you to be our guest without a charge.
But we can arrange very pleasant accommodation.'
'So Magna Carta still operates?' said Fleming sarcastically.
'If I insist on being arrested, on what grounds could you cook up a charge?'
'Defence Regulations,' murmured the solicitor. 'The relevant Acts would be - '
'Spare me the details,' Fleming interrupted. 'I'll come quietly. And where is this - er - hotel for unwelcome guests of the Government?'
'Not too far away,' said the Minister vaguely. 'It will do you good, or at least the girl will benefit. A glimpse of more spacious days of the kind one pays 2s. 6d. on Sundays to inspect. I'm afraid I can't be more specific than that. The army's been using part of it ever since 1942. It would be best, I think, if you went there right away and both got a good night's rest. You may see things more dearly, even sensibly, in the morning.'
The car journey took a couple of hours. Even Fleming could find no fault with the accommodation or service.
Someone used to this sort of thing had arranged for every comfort - drinks, clean clothes, books, baths, everything.
Andre was as lavishly provided. Fleming was, however, not over-enamoured with the solid-looking maidservants who hovered around. Their white overalls did not disguise their regulation hair styles and their khaki nylon stockings and sturdy black shoes. Fleming had never approved of women in the armed services.
But he found the clumsiness of the 6 ft. waiter who served their excellent dinner amusing. There was something about a policeman which could never be disguised, not even when he was a member of the Special Branch.
Otherwise they were left to themselves in the days that followed. They could walk as much as they liked around the vast parkland. Fleming noticed that Andre seemed to be growing increasingly vacant and that she stumbled quite often even on the smooth grass. He also noted that the chain link fence was the usual Government type, precisely like that round Thorness. The old gatehouse at the entrance to the main drive had been visibly transformed into a guard room.
The guard carried an automatic rifle.
One afternoon Andre was taken away. Geers had arrived and wanted to talk with her. She spent many hours of the ensuing day with the scientist. He did his work well. Andre emerged thoughtful though still curiously unmoved. She told Fleming that she accepted that all Geers had said was true, but it was like the life outline of some other person. It struck no strong chord in her own memory, although she realised that she had been involved in the destruction of the computer.
'What will they do to us?' she asked when they sat in the lounge, idly watching some inanity on T.V. late that evening.
Fleming was quiet for a time, marvelling that the moronic woman simpering at the camera had just won a spin dryer for confirming that the Amazon was a large river. 'I imagine they'll wait until poor old Osborne joins us here,' he said eventually. 'Then they'll have a trial in camera. He and I will be beheaded at the Tower, Osborne a perfect gentleman to the very end. As for you' - he found he could not go on, and they sat without speaking for a long while in the flickering half-light of the telly.
Suddenly there were footsteps outside, heavy ones, on the parquet flooring.
'Who's that?' Andre asked. Both had grown accustomed to the flannel-footed silence of the minions who watched over them.
'Could be Osborne,' Fleming suggested. 'It's about time he joined the party. Nice if they let us all spend our last days together.
But it wasn't Osborne. It was Kaufman. He was dressed in an over-long black overcoat. In one hand he held a black homburg, in the other a briefcase. He was momentarily taken aback at the sight of Fleming and Andre.
'Excuse please,' he murmured, shutting the door quietly. 'I had expected to meet Mr Osborne .... ' He nervously licked his lips and then put on a big smile. 'I was informed he was due here this evening. Instead I have the honour of greeting Dr Fleming.' He advanced, podgy hand outstretched.
'Mein freund Kaufman,' mimicked Fleming, ignoring the handshake. 'How did you flannel your way into this place?'
Kaufman drew himself up. 'I am representing Mr.Osborne's lawyer. It is all so difficult, this matter. But now I have the good luck. I meet you.'
He peered myopically through his spectacles at Andre, still sitting in her easy chair. 'And this is the famous young lady!'
He crossed to her, bowed, and took her hand, brushing the back of it with his lips.
'You see, my dear, how charming these Viennese are,' said Fleming.
Kaufman scowled. 'I do not come from Vienna, but from Dusseldorf, mein liebe Doktor!'
'It's not so long since you were taking pot shots at your liebe doctor,' Fleming pointed out. 'Not you, of course. You get other people to pull triggers and make uncomfortable trips to small private islands.'
Kaufman seemed genuinely embarrassed. 'I am not a free agent,' he said. 'I do not act as I would wish.'
'Only as your bosses in Intel wish.'
There was something unexpectedly sad and bitter in Kaufman's answer. 'Some of us are not lucky enough to do the things we would choose.'
Fleming nodded. 'Why did they send you after us?'
'You have something my directors want.' Kaufman was restless. He tip-toed to the window and pulled aside the heavy chintz curtains. Momentarily light swept over his face from moving lamps. At the same time there was the quiet throb of an idling engine and the faint swish of wheels braking on gravel.
'Your client, Mr Osborne, maybe,' suggested Fleming.
Kaufman shook his head. No, Dr Fleming, this is a van. It will stop round the back, in the stable yard.' His voice grew clipped and stern. 'Now, please, you will both come with me.'
He partially drew the curtains and pushed open the long, low window.
'Don't take any notice of what he says,' Fleming muttered quietly to Andre. 'Just go on sitting there.'
'Please,' beseeched Kaufman. 'Last week I have a young man shot dead. A nice young man. I did not even know him.
I do not like such things.'
There was some noise outside and a trench-coated figure sprang lightly over the sill. He was a thin, sallow-faced youngster hardly out of his teens. His narrowed eyes darted round the room. The gun in his hand was held rock-steady.
'Come on,' he ordered in a small morose voice, 'it's bloody cold and wet hanging around out there. Let's get going.'
Kaufman moved behind the gunman. 'We wish to have you alive, Herr Doktor,' he said, 'but we should be prepared to stretch a point with the young lady.' The man in the trench coat pointed the revolver towards Andre. There was a studied movement of his thumb as he spun the bullet chamber.
Fleming knew it was a crude theatrical gesture, but a purposeful one. He beckoned to Andre. With her hand in his they crossed to the window.
Kaufman climbed through the window first, turning to help Andre. The gunman brought up the rear, his pistol close to Fleming's back, but suddenly whirled round as he heard the door into the lounge opening. The others were already on the terrace. Fleming stopped dead and looked back.