They had already topped a minor corrugation in the side of the valley, so that now a small lateral re-entrant lay below them. But there was no sign of Mountsorrel on the spur ahead. ‘I had a visitor last night, David.’
‘A visitor?’ Audley was striding out on his long legs, his pale raincoat flapping, as though he knew where he was going. Or as though, even if he didn’t know, he was confident of getting there.
The memory of Willy cheered Tom, restoring his happiness in that instant. ‘A girl I know. A very pretty girl, too.’
‘Well, well!’ Audley didn’t miss a step. ‘Now that is cunning such as I love to hear. Or uncommonly good management, anyway… Or quite exceptional good luck—which will do just as well.’ He sniffed, and then chuckled throatily. ‘Give me a minder who’s lucky—then I’m truly safe, by golly!’ He threw a grin over his shoulder. ‘Perhaps that fellow yesterday really was aiming at me.
But with you beside me he never had a hope, eh?’
The old man was in good shape, in spite of his cold, thought Tom, lengthening his stride. And in good heart now, apparently. Or was this just an old war-horse—on this track an old destrier— snorting at the prospect of what he’d been trained for, with his iron-shod hoofs?
‘Not any of those, I’m afraid—’ The ground at the bottom of the re-entrant was boggy, with grass mounds standing out of water; but it might have been Trafalgar Square for all the notice the old man took of it: he splashed through it regardless ‘—she works for the Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State CIA, David.’
‘ Ah! ’ Audley checked and turned as he reached firmer ground beyond the bog. ‘Now, that’ll be the new chap, Sheldon—Mosby-Something-Sheldon? Major, USAF when I first met him, but always “Doc” to his associates. And “Mose-honey” to the girl he had in tow last time I met him… and she was a very pretty girl too
—and she worked for the CIA too, as I have good reason to recall.’
He cracked another grin, but this time it wasn’t a real one. ‘He’s quite a good chap, actually. Sound Virginian Confederate stock, is our major.’
‘He’s a colonel now.’
‘Is he so? Well, they would have had to promote him.’ Audley turned away, up the hillside. ‘He’s a dentist by profession—one-time profession, anyway. Which proves his patriotism, if nothing else. Because I’ll bet he could make a lot more money “hanging out his shingle”, or whatever they do, and building expensive bridgework, than hanging out the flag… and sending pretty girls to visit you late at night.’ He gave Tom a sidelong look. ‘So what did she have to tell you? And what did she want in exchange?’ Sniff.
‘And what—w-what did you give her—?’ The sniff turned into a giant sneeze, which occasioned a desperate search for the reserve handkerchief. ‘Or shouldn’t I ask?’ The old man blew his nose.
‘Damn blasted cold!’
Tom blessed the cold for giving him time to straighten his thoughts and his face. ‘She says you’re in trouble.’
‘Huh!’ Audley tossed his head and breathed in deeply. ‘That’s nothing new. What have I done this time?’
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State
‘You’ve offended some politician or other, she says.’
‘Oh… that?’ Audley shrugged. ‘It wasn’t anything personal. He just needs to tighten up his department, that’s all. Serve the bugger right!’ He gave Tom another sidelong look, but this time he winked as well. ‘I’ve got any number of enemies in high places, boy. But I’ve got one or two friends as well—and maybe in higher places, too. So no need to worry about that.’ The eye which had winked became fish-cold. ‘What else?’
‘She said Panin was also in trouble.’ It was no good passing on the
‘cut-and-run’ advice: Audley would just laugh at that. ‘The Americans are quite surprised he was let out to talk to you.’
‘Ah…’ Audley stumped up the hillside in silence for a moment or two ‘… now that is interesting. Even if it’s hardly surprising.’ He grimaced at the grass beneath his feet. ‘Although that’s the sort of thing, properly elaborated with chapter and verse, which Basil Cole could have explained… ye-ess… But now he can’t, can he?’ He stopped suddenly, and turned again, stone-faced to match the cold eyes. ‘So we shall have to live on my fat, pending nourishment from elsewhere, for the time being.’ The eyes looked through Tom, and then past him, but not at anything, quite unfocused. ‘If he is in trouble, so you say…’
In spite of himself, Tom had to turn, even though he was close to the crest now. But there was nothing behind them: Audley was looking at things inside his head, which pointed from the past into the present. ‘She said, David.’
‘ She said—yes…’ The look continued ‘… and I said “friends”—so Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State I said.’ The old man blinked, and snapped back to him. ‘Perhaps I delude myself when I say I have friends… So perhaps we are both in trouble—as she says.’ The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘But what we have to remember is that Panin lives in a different world from ours, in which “trouble” has a different meaning.’
It was a statement, not a question. But it seemed to be looking for an answer, nevertheless. ‘His trouble could be terminal, do you mean?’
Another twitch. ‘It’s hard to say now. Basil Cole could have told us.’ It was the right answer, all the same, the twitch suggested.
‘But he has no friends—not even with a “perhaps”. He just has success or failure—and then a fresh lease or bankruptcy, as the case may be.’ He nodded suddenly. ‘But you’re quite right, Tom: he has the advantage on us because we’re only playing games, but he’s playing life-and-death, maybe. So he plays harder, always.’
Tom thought of Basil Cole. ‘And he kills people, maybe?’
‘Without a second thought—’ Audley twisted away, up the hillside again ‘—or without investigative journalists, or questioning civil servants, or inconvenient questions in Parliament, anyway… if he pulls it off, boy—if he pulls it off!’ He stepped out again, leaving Tom behind.
Tom opened his mouth, wanting to stop the big man reaching the crest before he could, because Mountsorrel ought to be visible from there and he wanted to be the first to make sure that it was.
But Audley’s legs were too long and he had too much momentum, and the first words that came into his head were useless, anyway: if Panin was already ‘in trouble’ they both knew the KGB’s Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State unforgiving attitude to failed overseas operations mounted to restore a waning reputation.
‘David!’ Even as the right Audley-stopping words occurred to him he saw that it was too late: Audley had stopped of his own accord at the top. ‘She did give me something else—’
‘Well!’ Audley was staring ahead, hands on his hips. ‘I might have known!’ He squared his shoulders and shook his head. Then he turned back to Tom abruptly. ‘What else did she give you, Sheldon’s woman?’
Willy described as ‘Sheldon’s woman’ cut deep, and the accuracy of the description turned the knife in the wound. But at least Mountsorrel must be in view at last, and that made him stand firm where he was, down the hillside. ‘What might you have known, David?’ he inquired innocently.
Audley tossed his head. ‘What did she tell you?’
All the pleasure of Mountsorrel was gone before he had set eyes on it. ‘She gave me three names, David.’ He paused deliberately.
‘Does Zarubin ring any of your bells?’
‘Zarubin?’ Against his backdrop of grey rain-clouds Audley looked huge above him. ‘Yes—he rings bells… albeit discordantly, Tom.’ He gave Tom back an equally deliberate pause. ‘He’s a 24-carat KGB shit, is Colonel Gennadiy Zarubin… If that’s his real name. Which it almost certainly isn’t, because only God and Central KGB Records know that.’ Sniff. ‘But yes, he certainly rings bells—a whole bloody peal of them, with umpteen thousand changes: KGB Triple-Cross Major, that might do for him… And I Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State can maybe think of a few people who’d like to see him hanged—or