For the Good of the State (38 page)

Tom looked around quickly. He couldn’t see any All-American marine, but at least he still couldn’t see Panin’s back-up either. Only, Audley had reached the car; and although he was busy kicking one of the Dalmatians right now he could hardly be unaware that Sir Thomas Arkenshaw was busy chatting up some strange young woman when they ought both to be already on the way to Brentiscombe Point.

‘I told you—don’t fret! My “helper” is what you’d call a “pro”, Tom honey.’ She was already grinning, at once wickedly and reassuringly at the same time, as he came back to her. ‘ “Big panic”—or “SNAFU”, as my boss says … only I’m not supposed to know what the “FU” stands for, because he knows my uncle and my dad—is that what you really mean, Tom?’ She almost reached out to him, but then restrained herself. ‘So what do we do now?’

She was lovely. But her helper was all he had for backup, so he owed them both a true signal now, with no pretending. And to hell with Audley, who was looking at him. ‘All right, Willy darling … Maybe big panic, or maybe the worst is over—I don’t know.’ Then he remembered Audley pocketing ‘the evidence’, and knew beyond doubt that the big man had been concerned to arm himself as best he could. ‘But my guess is there’s more to come—though I don’t see how.’

She struggled with that for a second only. ‘The worst is over—?’

She was quick, too. ‘We have to get away from here quickly, as well as after Panin. Because there are two dead men in the house, back up there. And even if the neighbours didn’t hear the shots, then there’ll be one of our removal vans here soon enough, and it probably won’t be too healthy. But we have to follow Panin anyway. Because he’s leading us to Zarubin, Willy.’

‘Zzz-Zarubin-?’

‘Don’t ask me how or why. There isn’t time—and if there was, you wouldn’t believe it, in any case. But he’s made us an offer we can’t refuse, apparently.’ Time had run out, once again; he didn’t even need to look at Audley to know that. ‘Have you got a good map in your car?’

The
Zzz
of
Zarubin
was still on her lips, and she had to change their shape to get rid of it. ‘Yes, we’ve got a whole lot of maps—your big maps, with every goddamn thing on them … like every
motte
and
bailey
.’

Naturally, with its funds and its forethought, the CIA always had an unlimited supply of Ordnance Survey large-scale masterpieces. ‘Brentiscombe Point is up the coast from here, towards Ilfracombe. There’s a stream comes down to the sea there, and a few cottages. And the Devon Coast Path runs along there, eastwards—there’s a “Roman Fortlet” marked just inland from it.’ He could remember Audley’s voice in his ear. ‘It wasn’t really a fort, it was a signal station. You’ll find two others marked further east—this is the last of the three. On the path under the fort is where we’re meeting him.’ He concentrated on her. ‘Tell your man I want back-up there.’ Now for the truth. ‘And you keep well away this time, Willy. Because if you’re there I shall only worry.’ That was the truth, and there was no way of wrapping it up, ‘You’ll just be in the way. Do you understand?’ And, anyway, it was best unwrapped. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

‘Oh sure! You make yourself very clear. All too clear!’ She almost ignited again, but caught her temper with a conscious effort. ‘Okay, Tom: message received.’ What she wanted to do, he could see, was look over her shoulder at Audley. But she controlled that desire also, and merely nodded. ‘Problems you’ve gotten yourself, but I’ll try not to be an extra one. It’s my bodyguard you want now, not my body. Message received. So off you go, then.’

She was so close to him that he could see the fine moisture of the wet wind on the finer golden down on her skin. And he knew then that of all the things in the world he wanted to do, ‘going off away from her was the last and worst. ’Willy—‘

‘No, Tom!’ She raised her hand, almost as though to touch him again; but then she drew it back, as if their polarities repelled each other.‘ “Stand not upon the order of your going—go at once!”—I learnt that at college, when we played
Macbeth
.’ She smiled up at him. Tom goggled at her. ‘You played Lady Macbeth—?’ ‘Hell,
no!
It was a
ladies
’ college—so I played Macbeth …
Go on, Tom
, for God’s sake!‘ The hand waved urgently at. him. ’But … just you be very careful out there, like Sergeant Esterhase says—okay?‘

Almost embarrassingly, Audley wasn’t fuming at the delay: he was as avuncular as a bishop at a vicarage tea party.

‘I’m sorry, David!’ Still no sign of Panin’s man—any more than of Willy’s: the road was empty enough to risk a three-point turn across it.

‘Don’t be.’ What was worse than not-fuming was the big man’s unashamed interest; and, looking in all directions as he completed the manoeuvre, Tom observed Willy crossing the road ahead of him now; which would bring her to Audley’s side, for further inspection. ‘There’s no hurry, now that we know where to go—’ The car’s angry acceleration slammed him back into his seat as Tom put his foot down ‘—just take it easy! Because Major-General Zarubin will wait for us, Tom.’ As they reached her, Audley raised his hand in a parody of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother’s much-loved wave; and, what was worst of all, Wilhemina Groot returned the wave. ‘
Yes .
. Major-General Gennadiy Zarubin will undoubtedly wait patiently on our coming, Tom.’ Audley settled himself back comfortably, even folding his arms to demonstrate his equanimity. ‘He has a name to give us. So he needs us.’

Tom became aware that his foot had the accelerator flat down; and that this was both unnecessary, because the damage was done, and dangerous, because they were already approaching the next corner too fast. ‘What name, David?’

‘What name?’ Audley jerked forward as the brakes began to do the best they could. ‘Now … would that have been Mosby Sheldon’s young woman, by any remote chance, Tom?’

Tom cooled himself down, helped by the relief of getting round the bend on four wheels and on the road. ‘And if it was?’

‘Then he’s still running true to form. Because he had a very pretty woman in tow last time I met him. And
she
didn’t look the part either, as I recall … ’ The old man twisted in order to observe him more closely. ‘But … what you omitted to tell me, young Tom … is that you already know her quite well. Or even better than that, perhaps?’

Tom forced himself to watch the speedometer. ‘What?’

‘Oh, come on, now!’ Audley’s voice teased him. I may be almost superannuated, but I still have some of my eyesight and all of my memory. And—apart from that—I wouldn’t for one moment question your taste, either. For she seems to be a spirited young woman, as well as a stylish one—am I right?‘

It was that damned return wave, thought Tom, But then that was Willy, to the life. ‘And if you are right?’

‘My dear Tom! Don’t snap at me so—
I
have never objected to such imaginative extensions of the “Special Relationship”—quite the opposite!’

‘I wasn’t snapping.’ As Tom cut him off be realized that he was making a fool of himself. ‘I didn’t expect her—not here. That’s all.’

‘Of course!’ Audley hastened to spread agreement on the subject. ‘But … what I meant to say, in my clumsy way … is that we take a somewhat more laid-back, view of friendly contacts with friendly powers in Research and Development. Much more so than your boss Henry Jaggard probably does, to take an example. Which is not to say that he’s wrong, in taking a narrower view of
his
activities … But we are in the business of contacts and fair trading, without too much red tape, you understand … So some of my very best friends—
real
friends—the ones I can rely on to play honestly with me anyway, even though we both know that we salute a different flag every morning, and when the sun goes down, are Americans … or Germans.’ The old man sniffed. ‘At least, so long as we are of value to each other. Which makes life more interesting. But also sometimes even makes it safer, too.’

Tom had the feeling that he was tuned in to a commercial. But since Colonel Sheldon had despatched Willy and her helper to the Green Man last night it was a commercial with a demonstrably convincing sales story: because the CIA obviously cared for Dr David Audley’s skin. In fact, if anything, they cared rather more for it than Henry Jaggard seemed to do.

‘Hah-hmm … ’ Audley cleared his throat. ‘So what did your young lady have to tell you then, Tom?’

So that was the object of the commercial break then, thought Tom bleakly: the old man was trying to talk his fears away again, possibly letting the sound of his voice blot out the thumping of his heart as usual. But he was also desperate for more information, in the certain knowledge that he was sailing much too close to a rocky shore in almost total darkness, with the boom of the breaking waves in his ears.

‘Nothing more, I’m afraid, David.’ There was a
Brentiscombe
sign ahead on the empty wind-and-rain-swept road; and Tom could hear the same sound in his head, beneath the steady rhythm of the engine, of those cruel breakers which would accept no error of navigation. ‘Except they’re almost as frightened as I am, I think.’ He took the turning, which split him on to a narrower road, and then on to an even narrower one, further splitting
Brentiscombe
from
Hunter’s Inn
, which forced him to concentrate on his driving.

‘Well—’ Audley stopped as Tom negotiated a blind bend between high banks ‘—well, that makes all of us scared shitless—Panin included.’

‘Panin included?’ Trees arched over the road, some naked, some still obstinately refusing to let go of their long-dead leaves. ‘Panin too?’

‘Aye. And that’s what scares me most, Tom.’ Freed from his ancient
bocage
memories, Audley relaxed again. ‘This bastard Zarubin must be something quite exceptional, to make old Nikolai twitch the way he did, when he said “Follow me” back there.’ He shook his head. This is another of those moments when I wish I had Old King Cole whispering drunken insults in my ear. Because … because your damn computer print-outs may be good, and all very well if you’ve time to read them. But they add two and two, and two and two
ad infinitum
…
But they never bloody-well tell you when two-and-two equals
five—
or fifty-five, or
minus-five
…
Because they don’t smell the difference between dead men and dead mules, Tom—it’s all carrion to them
…
And, if you’ve ever smelt the real-life difference—Christ
!‘

They had gone up and down, and now they were going up and across and down; and, although he couldn’t smell the sea, Tom felt its presence. ‘Dead men are worse, are they?’ The road wasn’t so much narrow as ridiculous now, with a rocky stream on one side, and trees on the other, and pot-holes everywhere.

‘God—no!’ The old man lurched against him. ‘Men are just quite unspeakable. But … they ask to be buried, I suppose … I don’t know. But horses are worse, and they take a lot more burying. And so do cows, actually … But
mules
…
You ask Jack Butler about mules—he’s an expert, and he says they’re much worse. Because I never had to bury a mule in the war, after its guts had burst.’

They turned sharply, and Tom suddenly saw the sea ahead of them in a deep cutting between steep forested hillsides, battleship-grey under lighter grey layers of rain-clouds. ‘You said Panin had a name for us, David.’

‘I didn’t say it.
He
said it, Tom. Remember?’ Audley divested himself from his comparative study of the smell of dead and corrupted flesh. ‘He said Zarubin had the name.’

The road-sign warned of a l-in-4 drop, somewhat belatedly. ‘But what name?’

‘For God’s sake—I don’t know!’ Audley had found his handkerchief again. ‘But I do know that we’ve got someone inside their London operation.’ Sniff. ‘I’m not supposed to know, but I do. And I’m thinking … if
I
know, then maybe they’re on to him.’ He blew his nose, and then he stuffed the rag back into his pocket. ‘If he traded that name—traded the fact that they knew it … and let us have the man himself, because he’s no damn good to them now: the only thing worth anything is that
they
know now, that he’s tipping us off—
I don’t know, damn it.
’ He shook his head. ‘But that would be good enough to trade for whatever he wants, anyway.’ He looked at Tom suddenly. ‘And don’t get the wrong idea, boy. Because it certainly won’t be “Panin”, that name … Because Nikolai Andrievich Panin isn’t going to defect—not in this age of the dirty world … Of all men, it won’t be Nikolai Andrievich: I don’t need Basil Cole to tell me that—
that
I know for myself, even if I know practically bugger-all else!’ He shook his head again, still looking at Tom. ‘If Nikolai Andrievich is scared, the only possible reason I can think of is that it’s Major-General Gennadiy Zarubin who is about to make the great leap from darkness to light, boy.’

There was a stream falling vertically down a moss-covered cliff, with white water splashing across the roadway, covering it with a detritus of twigs and dead leaves; but he had to steer through the mess, because there was a rocky waterfall on the other side, a foot away from his nearside wheels; and there was utter confusion in his mind.

‘But—’ The Cortina crunched through the barrier, with one thicker branch banging against the floor under his foot, and then scraping away behind him ‘—but …
Zarubin—?
’

‘He put down your Polish Thomas Becket?’ Audley neatly avoided trying to pronounce Father Popieluszko’s name. ‘My God! That’s maybe only the half of it! What if he was also the man behind that Turkish lunatic who put a bullet into the Pope—how’s that for size as a bonus, eh?’

The last one-in-four descent brought them out into the floor of the combe, where it reached the sea itself between a steep wooded hill on its sheltered southern side ami an even steeper hillside of rocky scree and bracken on the other, with a lush water-meadow between, secret and surprising.