Stern must have known Colly, the Colonel now realized, from the time when Colly had been in Palestine.
Perhaps they had even become close friends then, for they were the kind of men who would have been naturally attracted to one another. Colly with his resourcefulness and his many idiosyncrasies, an eccentric dreamer who was more religious than rational, who was a firm believer in the Bible and who had become an ardent Zionist while working in Palestine fired with a mystical sense of the special mission of the Jews.
Yes. Colly would have appealed to Stern and they had probably become close friends, unknown to the Colonel and even to the Monastery. So when Colly hadn't returned from Crete, Stern had worked out a way to get himself sent there, to find out what had happened to his friend.
It fit, the Colonel was sure of it. It was exactly the kind of thing Stern would have done. And once in Crete, Stern must have left the safety of the mountains and taken the risk of going down into town, disguised as a Cretan mountaineer, and looked up the woman he had previously recruited for the Colonel, to learn for himself what Colly's fate had been. And later mentioned the fact of Colly's death to the Monastery, disguising his source.
It fit, and it troubled the Colonel. It was a little bit terrifying sometimes to think of the chances Stern had taken. This one, for example, strictly on his own. Thinking up a plausible assignment in Crete and getting himself sent there, simply to find out about a friend. To the Colonel, there was something disturbing about that. Something profoundly puzzling and suggestive of Stern's whole character.
But for the moment the Colonel put aside these intriguing considerations. Before he did anything else, he had to set matters straight in his own office.
***
I'm afraid I might have given you the wrong impression just now, he said, when I implied O'Sullivan had been killed. The truth is, we don't know whether he's dead or not. Our Colly might well be still alive in the mountains of Crete, which are extensive and rugged, after all.
I understand, answered the Major.
I'm sure you do. Undoubtedly you heard a lot about him as a boy, and you know there was no stopping him ever. Absolutely astonishing when you think of it. The Sergeant O'Sullivan. The noncommissioned officer of the Empire. I mean our very own, yours and mine and everyone's Our Colly of Champagne, right? So all we can say about it now, here, is that Colly can't be the Purple Seven who was in that Arab bar last night with Stern. And that's all we can say in respect to Colly.
I understand fully, said the Major.
The Colonel paused. Another thought had come to him. He went back to the report drawn up by the Egyptian policeman, to the information that had been copied down from the Armenian's passport after the explosion. The physical characteristics given for the Armenian were the same as Colly's had been.
The Monastery hadn't even bothered to change any of the entries in the passport, although they certainly would have, if there had been any reason to. Did that mean the Armenian not only resembled Colly, but resembled him exactly?
The Major must have already noticed this coincidence of physical details.
Did Our Colly have a brother? he asked.
The Colonel groaned.
Please. There's no way we can get into that.
Sir?
There were an enormous number of brothers, all of them older, as I recall. Colly used to claim the reason he had so many brothers was because his father ate so many potatoes. Some kind of local superstition where he grew up. Anyway, most of the brothers emigrated to America at an early age, to someplace called the Bronx, where they became roofers or drunkards or both.
Roofers?
Reaching for the stars in the New World, was the way Colly used to put it. And becoming drunkards, sadly, when the stars still proved to be out of reach, even over there. But no matter. It's an intriguing idea but it can't lead anywhere. The Bronx is simply too far away. Even Jameson couldn't penetrate such an exotic place.
The Colonel shook his head.
Stern, he muttered. The Armenian. That bar in a slum. One way or another, I don't think they're going to be very happy at the Monastery when I tell them about this.
One way or another? asked the Major.
Yes. If the hand grenade was their doing, it has to mean they intended to kill both of them. And if it really was a sordid accident, at the very least it tells them the Armenian went to Stern with what he'd learned, rather than to them. And now that Stern's gone, the Armenian's word is all the Monastery has about anything and everything concerning this operation of theirs against Stern. . No, I'm afraid there's no way out of it for the Armenian. Whatever the situation, he's in trouble.
Perhaps we could look into it further?
On our own, you mean. Yes, we could try to do that. But it's still the Monastery's operation, so I can't wait any longer to tell them about Stern's death and all the rest of it. Even a little thing like our sending Jameson over for a look is going to make them furious.
What about Maud? She might be able to pass on a message to her friend, the current Gulbenkian.
Oh that's not important. He doesn't need to be told where he stands. But I did intend to speak to her anyway, she's waiting now.
The Colonel looked down at the floor. He sighed.
The point is, you know as well as I do that when the Monastery's running an agent as a Purple Seven in this kind of case, against a man who was probably our most valuable agent and perhaps their most valuable agent as well, then that Purple Seven can't help but have a very short life expectancy, considering what must have been at stake. What is at stake? If he won he loses, if he lost he loses. And he's going to have to be a very wily Armenian now to live even a day or two with the Monks after him. I only hope he's half as clever as his predecessor in that identity was.
From what you've said about O'Sullivan, that seems unlikely.
I know it does. You just don't come across a man like O'Sullivan very often. You can't expect to and you don't.
Once more the Colonel shifted his false leg. The Major rose to leave.
Sir?
Hm.
I'll look into this as quietly as possible, but do you think you could give me any suggestions? There are so many names and dates and events in Stern's file, I could spend a year just trying to sort them out. Do you have any idea at all what the Armenian might have been looking for?
It's just a guess, said the Colonel, but my inclination would be to start with Poland.
The Major looked completely bewildered.
Poland? Here in Cairo?. . The war started with Poland, he added blankly.
And so it did, said the Colonel. Oddly enough, and so it did. But the war only ostensibly started there. Its origins have to lie more deeply in the past, as origins always do. By the time something becomes apparent, well, it's already traveled some distance, hasn't it? It's already been on its course for years and decades and it has a history to it. So although I'd start with Poland if I were you, I'd also keep in mind that's only a beginning. We have to go back, back, to find the Armenian. Because that's exactly what he did to find Stern. Does it sound complicated to you?
Frankly it does, said the Major.
But it's not really. It can't be. Stern was a man and the Armenian's a man and Poland's a place. And the Armenian managed to do it working alone, while we have enormous resources at our disposal.
Why do you say he was working alone? Surely he had the resources of the Monastery behind him?
No, I'm quite sure he didn't, not in any substantial way. The Monastery would never share anything of consequence with an outsider, that's not the way they operate. There's a reason why they have the name they have, as with most names in this world. So my guess is the Armenian was as alone before as he is now, and he's certainly alone now if the Monks are after him.