Roche smiled. "Well, he's a big fellow, so they say. I expect he caught our man at a disadvantage, anyway."
Sniff. "Our man was a woman."
Well! Well. . . maybe Oliver St.John Latimer did have it right, at that! And add unchivalrous and eccentric to all those other attributes into the bargain!
"I see what you mean by 'strange'," agreed Roche carefully. It was also rather strange that Genghis Khan should have told all this in such detail, unless he'd calculated that nothing but dummy5
the truth would serve to warn Roche himself of the perils that lay ahead. "I'll make a point of not going boating with him."
"When he travelled in the Middle East—he has travelled extensively in the course of ... historical research—" Genghis Khan brushed aside Roche's levity "—he made it a practice to visit the ministries of police to explain that he had served with British Intelligence during the war in Europe, but was no longer a serving officer. He did this in Egypt and Syria and Jordan and the Lebanon."
Well again! Now . . . that was what Genghis Khan had really meant by 'strange', not the Cam punting episode at all! And it was strange, by God! (It was not in the least strange that Genghis Khan knew about it: the Comrades had all those police ministries sewn up tightly, for sure, and it wouldn't have needed any circumspection to throw up that information, for even surer!)
But, of course, neither those ministries nor the Comrades would have taken such a disclaimer on its face value; rather, it would have put them on their mettle.
And yet, obviously, all consequent investigations had proved negative— obviously, not only because if it hadn't been so he wouldn't be here now, trying to recall this strange man to the colours, but also because if there had been anything to unearth, the combined efforts of half a dozen middle eastern security departments and those of the Comrades would have done it by now.
And yet it was still strange ... or, it would be still so if dummy5
everything about the man wasn't of a piece with it. In fact, with everything going against him, Audley appeared to have achieved classic nothing known status.
"So he's clean, then?"
"Until now," agreed Genghis Khan.
"Of course. As soon as I meet him he goes into Category 'A', naturally."
"I don't mean that—wait!" Genghis Khan abruptly cut off further inquiry.
Roche squinted down the sunlit street. He could see his Volkswagen, but there was still no Lady Alexandra beside it to force him to break contact before he had discovered what sort of relationship she had had with the CIA.
"Very well." The phone reclaimed him. "The woman Charnpeney-Perowne is confirmed Category 'C'. But you are right—it is a bureaucratic nonsense nevertheless."
Roche's morale went down and up in quick succession.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"She had a close contact. A known agent in their trade delegation in London, and then in New York. It is of no significance whatsoever—you can discount it."
"A close contact?"
"The contact was in bed. He has since left their service."
Genghis Khan sounded as though he would have sounded angry if he had ever allowed himself the luxury of sounding dummy5
anything recognisable. "We have wasted too much time on her. Subject, Stephanides, Meriel Aspasia, British passport; daughter of Nikos Stephanides, of Cypriot-Jewish extraction, hotel-keeper, London, known agent Sherut Yediot 1945-48, Mossad 1948 onwards; daughter known agent Mossad 1953
onwards, operating Cambridge and London Metropolitan area, present cover literary agent, Liddell Carver Associates
—"
Christ!
"—active, inform Central Records movements priority urgent, ends."
Christ! thought Roche again numbly. Not Greek or Anglo-Greek, but Greek-Cypriot Jewish. And not just Greek-Cypriot Jewish, but Mossad. And not merely Mossad, but second-generation Mossad, the daughter of a man who'd been an Israeli agent even before Israel had existed. And not just second generation Mossad, but active, inform Central Records movements priority urgent—which meant a top-flight agent whose every movement had to be reported double quick to Central Records so that the Comrades in the field could be warned of trouble before it enveloped them.
He swallowed as much of that as he could. "Well, she's here."
"Where—exactly?"
"I don't know, exactly. She's staying with Miss Baker and Lady Alexandra ... in a cottage owned by a Madame Peyrony, a few kilometres outside Neuville, where I'm phoning from.
dummy5
But I haven't been there yet." It was occurring to Roche belatedly that he was the Comrade in this particular field, and nobody had warned him that Meriel Stephanides was already busy ploughing the field up.
"But you're going there now?"
"Yes." His telephone-holding hand was sweating.
"Excellent!"
"What's excellent about it?" It also occurred to him that Genghis Khan had deliberately kept the good news about Meriel Stephanides to last, either in order not to demoralise him, or (more likely) just for the sheer pleasure of it.
"Her presence confirms the importance of whatever it is they want Audley to do—that is obvious." Genghis Khan paused in order to let the obvious sink deep into Roche's stomach. "Do you require assistance?"
Yes—
"No. I haven't even recruited Audley yet."
"Well, I advise you to do that as quickly as possible—for your own sake. Then we'll see about Mademoiselle Stephanides.
Meanwhile, I will make contact with you tomorrow at 0900, by the south gate of Neuville. I will have further information for you by then."
Outside, in the sunlight, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
dummy5
The heat which bounced up around him off the cobbles of the little square didn't warm him at all, it was repelled by the great block of ice inside him.
The more he thought about his situation, the worse it became. Because if Meriel Stephanides was . . . what she was . . . then it would be prudent to assume that the American, Michael Bradford, wasn't what he seemed to be, but something much more dangerous.
He didn't want to think about it. He wanted to run away, but there was nowhere to run away to.
Lady Alexandra was standing beside his Volkswagen, waiting for him. She saw him, and waved energetically. He waved back automatically, glad that she couldn't see his face from that distance. He had all of a hundred yards in which to rebuild a happy holiday smile on it.
IX
"On— bugger!! Now Jilly's bloody egg's broken!" Lexy stabbed at the frying pan, as though it had let her down deliberately. "And of course I've got everything wrong—I should have done her bacon first, shouldn't I! Oh well, not to worry—she's probably still in the bath—go and see if she's still in the bath, David darling, and if she is then tell her to stay there—"
Roche blinked at Lady Alexandra, and tried to reconcile what he knew with what he was seeing, and opened his mouth and dummy5
shut it again without speaking.
"And has Steffy come back yet? I think I'll throw this egg away and start again—I think I'll throw the bloody lot away and start again! I hope to God the chips are still hot. . . or at least warm—is she still in the bath?"
Roche swallowed. From the way she moved ... or rather, from the way different parts of her moved under the dress, he could swear that she wasn't wearing anything under it.
"—I don't mean go literally and see whether she's still in the bath—I mean, you can . . . because there isn't any lock on the door, I broke it yesterday—but all you have to do is listen through the wall by your ear, that's all—don't lean too hard, or it'll fall down—"