Or, not better at all, even if Category 'B' was no more than the sum of those contacts, which could well be accidental and innocent with all the CIA agents that were in the field at any dummy5
moment, which any travelled American might make through sheer chance. In short, Bradford had been observed in doubtful company four times, and maybe seven times, over five years, but had never been known actually to do anything; but the Comrades always assumed the worst until the subject proved the opposite, which was almost impossible, short of his actually offering them his services.
But that made Colonel David Aaron Stein's nothing known all the more surprising, because nothing known meant just that. As near as dammit, Colonel David Aaron Stein must be a-political, that meant; and, for an Israeli, that sounded near impossible—
" Subject, Baker, Gillian Agnes, only daughter of Archdeacon and Mrs Wilfrid Baker, Old Sarum, Wiltshire; scholar of Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford; Assistant-Principal, Foreign Office. Ends."
Nothing known didn't apply to poor Jilly—didn't and couldn't, even though they obviously didn't know anything much about her. Because with Jilly the established Soviet diplomatic analogy already applied: if she worked for the British Foreign Office she would already be guilty as charged, even if she hadn't turned up on Audley's doorstep as ordered to help Roche establish himself. He had been foolish to think they'd accept his word for her innocence.
" Subject, Champeney-Perowne, Alexandra Mary Henrietta, eldest daughter of Denzil Arthur Fitzroy Champeney-Perowne—" Genghis Khan managed the whole mouthful of dummy5
names with his accustomed lack of passion "—Tenth Earl of Cotswold, MVO, DSO, MC, MA (Cantab.); brigadier-general, retired; colonel-in-chief, Royal South Wessex Dragoons; nothing known—"
Roche grinned into the mouthpiece. Nothing known in the case of Denzil Arthur Fitzroy et cetera meant that everything was known about him, and his father, and his father's father, all the way back to the moment when the bed-springs had creaked to receive His Gracious Majesty King Charles II alongside their resourceful Champeney-Perowne ancestress, and that it was all there to see in Debrett's and Burke's Peerage and Who's Who. And the idea of Genghis Khan quoting from those seminal works was captivating.
"—and Cornelia Ashley, nee Vanderhorn, American citizen—"
Lexy's mum was a Yankee!
"—nothing known—"
Vanderhorn sounded like dollars—oil, banking, meat packing, peanuts?—dollars in exchange for the coronet of a marchioness!
"—born New Hampshire, American citizen—"
And that applied to Lexy herself: Lexy was an American citizen, by God!
"—known contact CIA London, New York, 1956. Category 'C'
1956—"
"You're joking!" exclaimed Roche.
"What?"
dummy5
"I said 'You're joking'," said Roche.
"I am not joking," said Genghis Khan unjocularly. "Are you requesting repetition?"
"No. I'm requesting a little bloody common-sense. Are you telling me Lex—Lady Alexandra. . . is a CIA contact?"
There was a pause. "I am saying she is Category 'C' 1956."
Another pause. "What are you saying?"
Roche thought for a moment, and came to the conclusion that a doormat was what people wiped their feet on. "I'm saying . . . I'm saying that I'm just about to make myself agreeable to Lady Alexandra Champeney-Perowne—if possible, very agreeable . . . and I suppose I'm also saying. . .
I know the CIA are good, but surely they're not that good? So what the hell are you saying, then?"
There was another pause. Then "Wait," said Genghis Khan.
Roche waited. Category 'C' didn't mean anything, as he had already told himself. But in this instance he wanted to be sure.
The pause elongated. Obviously Genghis Khan was making further inquiries, even further afield on another phone. And the idea of Genghis Khan jumping for him fed Roche's courage and self-esteem at compound interest rates.
The phone crackled in his ear. "We are still inquiring. Are you able to wait?"
Another nought appeared on Roche's deposit of courage.
dummy5
"For a few minutes more, maybe . . . One thing, though: do you have any idea where Audley's money comes from? He seems to be 'of independent means', as they say, but his father ... his father . . . was up to his ears in debt. So he's acquired ready cash from somewhere—and quite a lot of it.
Have you anything on that?"
This time the delay was only to be expected, since this hadn't been one of the questions on the list, and sub-stations weren't geared for this type of uncleared traffic. But if Genghis Khan was as top-brass as Roche guessed he must be, then he just might bend the rules.
"We have nothing on that." He betrayed nothing in his voice, either. The bending was still in the balance. "I would prefer to talk to you face-to-face on the matter."
The idea of Genghis Khan swanning around in Raymond Galles's neck of the woods was not to Roche's taste at all.
"That might be difficult. I'm going to be pretty tied-up the next day or two. I'm not sure I can get away."
You will get away if I require you to do so."
Roche dug into his capital. "I'll get away if it's safe to do so. I don't promise anything—not if you want results."
He wished he could see Genghis Khan's face, even though there'd be no expression on it. Face-to-face was better, and in the end safer too, in spite of all the complications.
But not just now.
"Information has been received on Audley," said Genghis dummy5
Khan out of the silence, apropos of nothing. "Rather curious information. He's a strange man."
You can say that again, thought Roche. "How d'you mean?"
Sniff. And sniff, in the context of Genghis Khan, was a manifestation of extreme emotion.
"He worked for British Intelligence, from maybe 1944 to 1946. In Germany, perhaps in France, perhaps in Spain . . .
perhaps also in Greece—we are not sure. He was very young."
"And that's strange?"
"We are being circumspect, and that makes investigation difficult, and more so with the passage of time." Genghis Khan ignored the question. "He left them ... it appears that he left them in anger in '46—mutual anger. We believe that he disobeyed orders. Or possibly he misinterpreted orders—
again we are not sure. We are not sure about anything."
And they didn't like being unsure, that was for sure.
"But they surely want him back now," Roche goaded him.
"And they tried to get him back once before, too."
"That is correct. It was at Cambridge, in '49. We have that authenticated beyond doubt."
There was more to it than that—and that offered a very obvious hypothesis. "Did we approach him at Cambridge—
after he turned them down?" Roche chanced his arm. "What happened?"
Genghis Khan chewed on the questions in silence for a time.
"It was. . .a very gentle contact. Very circumspect, you dummy5
understand."
'Circumspect' was the in-word of the moment. But there was the minutest suggestion in that passionless voice that the very gentle circumspection of 1949 hadn't fooled David Longsdon Audley for one minute.
"Yes?" inquired Roche innocently.
"It was not successful."
"How not successful?"
Pause. "It was rejected."
"He went to the police, you mean? Or the Special Branch?"
Pause. "He threw our contact into the river, from a flat-bottomed boat."
The 'flat-bottomed boat' added a vivid realism to Audley's rejection of the chance to join the destined conquerors of the world. Recruitment— would-be recruitment—on a punt on the Cam was an unusually imaginative touch, nevertheless!