‘ No— I agree! But, nevertheless, we shall bend every thew and sinew to save Zarubin’s unworthy hide, now that you’ve warned us. And, in my case, all the more so because of yesterday’s traumas
—or should it be “trau-mae”—?’ Audley switched to Tom without warning, and caught him in the midst of another bout of incredulity.
‘ “Traumata”,’ he answered automatically. What this last mock-flippancy reminded him was that Audley hadn’t forgotten Basil Cole, as for a moment he appeared to have done. But the old man Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State was still set on goading Panin, of course. ‘ “Traumata”, David.’
‘Ah! From the Greek, of course!’ Audley fielded the word happily.
‘To my shame I only did Latin, so I’m really only half-educated.
Or altogether uneducated, as my old classics master always maintained.’ Back to Panin. ‘But yes… we shall of course do our best. So when your “Sons of the Eagle” liquidate Zarubin, we shall catch them, and put them away for life.’ He shrugged. ‘Of course, you will get some damn bad publicity, during the trial, when all the dirty laundry about Father George comes out… The newspapers will have a ball with that, tut-tutting hypocritically about wickedness begetting wickedness. But it’ll only be a nine-days’
wonder, and everyone will soon forget again.’ He cocked a shrewd eye at Panin. ‘And, anyway, a mad dog like Zarubin is probably best put down—won’t your masters be secretly quite relieved to be disembarrassed of him? Won’t it actually make things easier in Poland, in the end—?’
Audley’s mouth twisted, in support of his eye. ‘Not your cup-of-tea, Nikolai? Better heroically-dead in foreign parts, with two columns of lies in Pravda? ’
Panin’s face was a picture of nothing. ‘I am here to prevent that thing, David.’
‘Right.’ Audley’s hand came up. ‘So we’ll both do our best. And you can always blame me afterwards. But I can live with that.’
‘No.’ Far beneath Panin’s picture of nothing there was another picture, but Tom couldn’t read it. ‘It will not be enough for me to do that—I cannot afford to do that. And neither can you, David, I Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State think.’ The Russian shook his head slowly. ‘Because I am already living on what you call “borrowed time”, David—that I know.’
The head stopped shaking. ‘And… with all due respect… I believe you are in the same position. Which is why I asked for you, David.’ This time it was the Russian’s hand which came up, and Tom noticed for the first time that there was a thick gold ring on one of the fingers. ‘No, do not interrupt me—’
‘I wasn’t going to—’ There was a ring on Audley’s finger, too.
‘General Zarubin is not here for his own safety. He is here to arrange an important visit, David. Because, if the Geneva talks fail, we shall be appealing directly to Europe, David.’ Panin lowered his hand. ‘And that is what Basil Cole would have told you, I think. So perhaps that is why he died, David.’ Another slow shake.
‘Not merely to discredit me.’
That sent Audley back on his heels, Tom sensed. Or at least it stopped his mouth for once, anyway.
‘We have to stop this thing. It will not be good enough—not safe enough, for either of us—to catch the assassins afterwards.
Because if all that happens, and then there is no meeting because of it… then my head will roll. And yours too… and even perhaps Colonel Butler’s, David. Although your heads are of no concern to me—I will admit that, if nothing else.’ Something almost changed in the Russian’s face. ‘I might even enjoy that thought… if we were not in the same cart—cart?’ Something did change: the depth of the deep creases on each side of the mouth deepened slightly.
‘Or should it be “tumbril”, since we are talking of heads dropping into the basket?’
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State Tom had to watch Audley’s reaction now. And, as he watched, it came to him perversely again that everything Audley had done so far—all the insults, and the pretence to greater knowledge than he actually possessed—had been geared not only, or not so much, to avenging Basil Cole as to deriving this profit (indeed, his own words, ‘ doing business’, had suggested that, exactly, from recent memory). But now the Russian had turned the tables, and almost contemptuously so, by combining mutual survival with cooperation—even, he had twisted the knife, by putting Colonel Butler in the same cart with them both.
And he could see, at a glance, that Audley didn’t like what had been done to him, because the big old man’s ugly face wasn’t sheep-inscrutable: it might be beast-like, but it was rarely expressionless, and it was prey to an alphabet of emotions now.
‘You are a perfect shit, Nikolai—aren’t you!’ Audley sniffed, and then wiped his big nose on the back of his dirty hand. ‘You never were going to make a deal, were you!’
‘Not with you, David—no.’ Panin nodded. ‘We happen to have drawn the same card from the pack, this time.’ The creases deepened. ‘Not like last time.’
‘Uh-huh?’ Audley was already adjusting to defeat, and putting it down to experience. ‘You’ve got a long memory.’
‘I think we both have.’ Panin shrugged off the past, wisely adjusting to victory. ‘But the important thing is that I have a deal for the enemy this time, David. But I need you for that. And that is why I am here.’
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State Here suddenly registered with Tom. Because they had all used the word, or accepted it in its widest sense; but it had always had another and a more exact and geographical meaning—they had even left a precise question about that here behind them, unanswered and mysterious: ‘ Down here, up here, out here—the West Country, Nikolai’—
‘Here?’ The same word had registered with Audley, simultaneously.
‘Yes.’ Panin looked from one to the other of them. ‘“This is not your country”, you said?’
‘Yes.’ Audley was instantly as battened down on Exmoor as he had ever been in his Normandy bocage. ‘And you agreed that it wasn’t—?’
The Russian cased Gilbert de Merville’s long-overgrown fortress for an answer—the whole open space of the bailey, from left to right, and then finally the mound of the motte, alongside which they stood, on the edge of the ditch, before coming back to Audley.
‘How far are we from the sea here?’
‘Not far.’ Audley admitted the truth cautiously. ‘No place on Exmoor is far from the sea. No place in Devon is far…’ Even that wasn’t cautious enough, but geography was against him ‘… from the sea. So what?’ He tossed his head arrogantly. ‘But you wouldn’t understand that, of course, would you! All you’ve got is a sea of grass, or snow and frozen pack-ice, eh?’ Only then he seemed to understand that he could no longer sting an answer, and didn’t even need to do so. ‘He’s coming here, is he? Zarubin—
General Zarubin?’
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State
‘Yes. He’s coming here.’ Nod. ‘Here.’
‘Why?’
‘Because this is his country, David. His father was an “AB”—is that right? An “Able Seaman”?’
‘A what?’ Audley’s jaw dropped.
‘Yes. With “Dunsterforce”, David. Before either of us were born, but I think you’ll remember “Dunsterforce” , nevertheless?’ Panin nodded. ‘He “jumped ship”—“ran”, is perhaps the correct term? Or maybe he fell… fell, or jumped or ran, anyway… to us. So this is his son’s country, and he wants to see it before he dies.’