Panin certainly didn’t appear worried: he was watching a hooligan crowd of small birds fighting over something edible in the middle of the road. But otherwise Audley was still blethering about the obvious.
As Tom scattered the birds the Russian looked up and saw them, but gave no sign of having done so. And in that instant Tom decided whose side he was on.
He drove fifty yards before stopping, and then watched Audley release his seat-belt.
‘Listen, David—’ As he put his hand on the old man’s arm he realized that this was the first time he’d touched him. On the terrace yesterday they hadn’t shaken hands because Audley’s had been dirty from his bonfire-making—about as dirty as they were now. ‘Listen, David…’
Audley regarded him inquiringly, his battered features suddenly scrubbed clean of all other emotions. ‘Aren’t you going to back up?’
Panin was standing still and the birds were back in the road, Tom observed in the rear-view mirror. ‘He can wait. Do you know who I’m working for?’
Audley’s face didn’t change. ‘I did rather wonder. From time to Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State time.’
‘Henry Jaggard, David. I have to report everything you do to him.’
Still no change, but a tiny nod. ‘Ah… well, that’s also reassuring.
He’s a sharp fellow, Henry Jaggard—very clever. But at least he’s on our side.’ Then a slight frown. ‘Jack Butler doesn’t know this, I take it?’
‘No. Not as far as I know.’
‘No.’ The frown vanished. ‘That’s reassuring too. One doesn’t like one’s idols to have clay feet. But… you don’t by any chance know what Henry Jaggard is up to? Apart from securing the defence of the realm and furthering his own career, that is—?’
Tom flicked a glance into the mirror again. Panin was still waiting patiently, and there was still no sign of Major Sadowski. ‘No.’ He shook his head at Audley. ‘My job is to protect you. And to obey your orders, David.’
Audley’s eyebrows lifted slightly. ‘That doesn’t seem too outrageous. But, since I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, he must be having a rather frustrating time.’ A hint of the old Beast-grin. ‘So what’s your problem?’
‘If I had my way we wouldn’t be here. Or… we’d have a lot more back-up right now. But he won’t have that.’
Nod. ‘He’s quite right. A troop of heavy-hoofed Special Branch men in clean black Rovers would frighten the natives. And they wouldn’t turn a bullet from my coat, either—not if it’s got my name on it, Tom. Or, put another way—it would be my friend and colleague Paul Mitchell’s way, because he’s into 1914-18 poetry…
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State and so, to a quite remarkable extent, is Jack Butler, too:
“Nor lead nor steel shall reach him, so That it be not the Destined Will.”
Not Kipling, that But it could have been. So not to worry.‘ He reached for his door handle. ’We just have to keep our powder dry, that’s all.‘
‘No—’ Again Tom touched Audley’s arm ‘—that’s the point, David… That bullet yesterday…’
‘Yes?’ Audley nodded. ‘I did rather wonder about that, too.’ The eyebrow cocked again. ‘Henry Jaggard too—? To galvanize me into urgent and furious activity instantly?’
‘He isn’t as worried about it as he ought to be.’
‘He isn’t, isn’t he?’ Audley twisted in his seat to gaze out of the rear window. ‘Well, I suppose that could be quiet confidence in himself… and in you… however misplaced.’ The old man’s tone hardened with each word. ‘Or… It could be Henry Jaggard or one of his minions leaving nothing to chance, as you suggest… But here’s the Galloping Major now, anyway. So let’s go and join the bird-watching party then, eh?’ Audley straightened himself and opened his door.
Tom felt ridiculously anti-climaxed. He had burnt his boats—
perhaps even, subconsciously, he had burnt them for Mamusia’s sake, too. But Audley had been there, or nearly, before him, so he Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State might just as well have kept his options open.
A gust of wind, damp with fine cobwebby rain, caught him full in the face as he frowned across the top of the car at Audley.
The old man was smiling at him—not grinning the Beast-grin, but smiling an old maid’s almost hesitant smile; which, since his face was so dirty, made him look foolishly-beastly. ‘I really need my raincoat now, dear boy. But, since you say I mustn’t wear it, I’ll chance pneumonia instead. Because I am vastly obliged and obligated to you now.’ The smile twitched. ‘And because I also know the difference between betrayal and keeping faith in the fine print at the bottom of the contract, you see. Because I’ve been there too… So let’s go and do it again, then.’
Tom watched him walk away, with the walk instantly lengthening into that characteristic long-legged stride. Then he bent down into the car and reached for the cast-aside raincoat in the back, using the required contortion also to ease the Smith and Wesson out of its holster into his hand to hold under it before he backed out again.
Audley had already reached Panin and Sadowski, and was nodding in answer to the Russian. Tom dropped the car key into his pocket (who would steal a heap like this? ), and settled the coat untidily over his right hand. Mercifully, there was a lot of raincoat; but then, any raincoat made to cover Audley had to be tent-like.
‘Tom—’ Audley called across the decreasing yards as he approached them ‘—Tom—’ Now the raincoat received half-aglance, and Tom’s guts twisted; but then the old man ignored the coat ‘—of course, they’ve cheated, as you would expect!’
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State
‘Cheated?’ Tom let his outrage at the word further cover the coat’s untidiness. ‘How?’ He looked accusingly at Panin, ‘What?’
‘Not exactly… cheated, Sir Thomas.’ The Russian lifted a hand quickly. ‘As a precaution we have had men watching this place, to see who has come; and who has gone, you understand?’ The fingers of the hand opened, and the hand shook defensively. ‘With General Zarubin so close there is no margin for error, Sir Thomas.
We cannot afford to be careless.’
‘Which, translated, means that they’ve counted all the Poles out, and then they’ve counted them all in,’ snapped Audley. ‘And there are only two of them.’
“That is correct.‘ Panin took a confirmatory nod from Sadowski before nodding himself. ’One is Szymiac, the other we do not know. But they operate in two-man cells, we do know. And Szymiac will have scouted the ground, and will drive the car. For he is the brains, and not an assassin—it is the other man who will fire the shot.‘ He fixed Tom through his eye-slits. ’Small units, quickly in and quickly out, regardless of everything after proper reconnaissance: they learned that from us, I suspect.‘
That hadn’t been how it had been with Father Jerzy, thought Tom.
But then, they had used Polish scum for that, because only scum would work for them, and scum was reliably stupid. But these men were patriots, however deluded now. Or… maybe not so deluded?
But he must not think Polish thoughts now: England had taken him, and their way was not his way now, and that was the end of it!
‘So they’re both inside.’ He looked up at the houses above him: a Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State well-spaced row of very English houses, rather gimcrack-1930ish, each detached from the other behind its garden, which rose up the hill from the road. ‘Where?’