‘Oh, Tom—you’re a mess!’ Her eyes were dark with concern,
‘You’re not fit to be allowed out on your own—that’s the truth!’
What Tom thought first, as she brushed his own hair out of his eyes, was— I’m the only one who knows what really happened, in all its confusing completeness—
And then the thought betrayed him: in the second place it wasn’t quite so confusing now—
But he looked at Shirley, with sudden knowledge conferring power greater than pain. ‘Is Audley all right?’
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State
‘When I last saw him he was just fine.’ Shirley rewarded him with a look of undeserved professional approval. ‘I think he was quite enjoying himself, maybe.’
Tom tried to concentrate on her, to the exclusion of Willy’s perfume and her soft solicitous touch. ‘Enjoying himself?’
‘Yeah.’ Shirley shared one efficient minder’s secret with another less-efficient minder. ‘Dr Audley likes winning, Sir Thomas.’
“W — ‘ Tom caught the word before it betrayed him, and turned it into a very different word. ’ Willy… I love you, Willy.‘ But, as he changed the word, it became the absolute and ultimate truth. ’Do you love me, Willy?‘
Wilhemina Groot considered the wreck of Sir Thomas Arkenshaw critically. ‘I don’t know about love, Tom honey. But someone has got to look after you— that I do know!’
This was what mattered, in the third place, after knowledge and power. And, also, Willy Groot would know how to keep Mamusia in her place:. ‘Will you become the umpteenth Lady Arkenshaw, in Debrett’s, and Burke’s Peerage, Willy?’
The wind and rain swirled round them, and Tom felt the wetness of the puddle in which he was sitting chill his backside. But that was a minor discomfort compared with the importance of Willy Groot’s decision, which would decide Tom Arkenshaw’s fate—and possibly Dr David Audley’s fate, and the future of Research and Development, and that preux chevalier Colonel Jack Butler with it… and maybe even Henry Jaggard too… but bugger all of them!
Tom Arkenshaw first— first and last!
Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State Tom honey! I thought you’d never ask—‘
‘ Christ O’Reilly! ’ Shirley exploded. ‘We’ve got two dead men within spitting distance—and a Russian with diplomatic privilege just round the corner—’
‘Shut up, Shirley,’ said Willy. ‘ Yes, Tom.’ She turned to Shirley at last. ‘Being married to Tom will never be dulclass="underline" he’s a full-time job.
He’s half-Polish, you see—half good Anglo-Saxon-Anglo-Norman, but half Polish. It’s a great mixture: half of him is steady and calculates both ends against the middle—but half is into charging the machine-guns on horseback… Isn’t that the truth, Tom honey?’
Tom thought of Sadowski, who had charged his last machine-gun in vain. But then he thought of David Audley, who had calculated everything exactly in the end—even including Tom Arkenshaw himself.
‘More or less, Willy—yes.’ But what he actually thought was…
being married to Willy Groot would never be dull either, although it might be uncomfortable at times; but then being married—
professionally married—to David Audley would be much the same; but now they had both asked for his hand in marriage, and they both needed him, albeit for different reasons: so who was he to go against the vote of the majority?
He smiled at Shirley. ‘I can give you a telephone number to ring, to clear up the mess. And I think I shall also need a stretcher, to carry me back to civilization.’
Or, anyway, what passed for civilization, in an age as dark as that Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State of King Stephen and the Empress Matilda. And in so dark an age the prudent man must look to his own interests with the greatest care.
‘I’d like to talk to David Audley, too,’ he added. ‘There are things he needs to know.’
PART THREE
Winners and Losers and Winners
In the event, it was Garrod Harvey who began the inquiry into ‘The Exmoor Massacre’, not Henry Jaggard himself.
However (as Jaggard was at pains to explain very quickly), this was not because the whole thing had been his (Garrod Harvey’s) idea in the first place, but rather because his (Henry Jaggard’s) view of Research and Development was all too well-known; so that if justice was to be seen to be done (if not actually done), it would be far more distinctly seen to be so if it resulted from a recommendation from below rather than a simple act of joyful obedience on his (Henry Jaggard’s) part to a Ministerial and FCO
ultimatum.
Which was the truth, up to a point.
By then the mortal remains of Major-General Gennadiy Zarubin—
the victim of a tragic heart attack while en route to a tour of the Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State Westland helicopter works at Yeovil—were themselves en route to Moscow, accompanied by his grieving comrade, Professor Nikolai Andrievich Panin. And the Gorbachev appeasers in the FCO, who knew exactly what had happened to the General’s heart, had expressed ‘I-told-you-so’ delight at the Soviet Embassy’s friendly desire to hush up the whole affair, subject only to the punishment of whoever had been responsible for such lax security on the British side; which quite properly pointed to the serving up of David Audley’s head on a platter, suitably garnished with a lettuce leaf, two radishes and a carrot Julienne, in the Nouvelle Cuisine manner.
So the outcome of the inquiry was cut-and-dried, and every prospect was pleasing on the surface. But in retrospect Henry Jaggard still shuddered at the risks he had taken in going along with Garrod Harvey’s lateral thinking, for he was by nature a belt-and-braces man. And, also, he had wind of certain rumours which were going the rounds beneath the surface, which most disconcertingly combined outrageously inaccurate elements with disturbingly accurate ones; so that it was to these rumours that he turned the conversation first, when Garrod Harvey came back from his exploratory interview with Colonel Jack Butler, following his final de-briefing of Sir Thomas Arkenshaw…
‘Yes.’ Harvey pushed a chair across the carpet towards the desk, and lowered himself into it gingerly, as though in pain. ‘Well, there are basically two of them, with variations: there’s what might be called “the Irish joke” and “the Polish joke”.’ He flexed his Price, Anthony - For the Good of the State shoulders cautiously. “The Irish joke appears to have emanated from somewhere in the Special Branch, and is simple and circumstantial, and quite amusing. But wildly wide of the mark, in more senses than one.‘ He paused for an instant, in order to concentrate on his right shoulder. ’Whereas the Polish one is much more ingenious, Henry. But not nearly so funny, because it is substantially true, I rather think.‘
It was reassuring that Garrod Harvey had done his homework properly as usual, thought Jaggard. ‘And that’s the one David Audley himself has put abroad, I take it?’
‘Well… actually… no. I rather think his was the Irish one.’ Harvey stopped flexing his shoulder. ‘He has quite a few friends in the Branch. In fact, although he has a lot of enemies, he does also seem to have a surprising number of friends, Henry. Particularly in Grosvenor Square.’
‘Indeed? Well they’re not going to be able to help him now.’