‘Do you like him?’ Archie asked curiously.
‘Not much, but I hate to see people go to waste.’
‘Stupid boy.’
‘I checked on the colt,’ I said. ‘The foot stayed on.’
Archie nodded. ‘Betty’s delighted. The colt is permanently lame, but they’re going to see if, with his breeding, he’s any good for stud. Betty’s offering him free next year to good mares.’
Archie’s sweet wife came in and asked if I would stay to dinner; she could easily cook extra. I thanked her but stood up to go. Archie shook my hand. I winced through not concentrating, but he made no comment. He came out to my car with me as the last shreds of daylight waned to dark.
He said, ‘In the civil service I work in a small unacknowledged off-shoot department which was set up some time ago to foretell the probable outcome of any high political appointment. We also predict the future inevitable consequences of pieces of proposed legislation.’ He paused and went on wryly, ‘We call ourselves the Cassandra outfit. We see what will happen and no one believes us. We are always on the lookout for exceptional independent investigators with no allegiances. They’re hard to find. We think you are one.’
I stood beside my car in the dying light, looking into the extraordinary eyes. An extraordinary man of unimaginable insights. I said, ‘Archie, I’ll work for you to the limit as long as I’m sure you’re not sending me into a danger that you know exists but are not telling me about.’
He took a deep breath but gave no undertaking.
‘Good night,’ I said mildly.
‘Sid.’
‘I’ll phone you.’ It was as firm a promise, I thought, as ‘let’s do lunch.’
He was still standing on his gravel as I drove out through his gates. A true civil servant, I thought ruefully. No positive assurances could ever be given because the rules could at any time be changed under one’s feet.
I drove north across Oxfordshire to Aynsford and rang the bell of the side entrance of Charles’s house. Mrs Cross came in answer to the summons, her inquiring expression melting to welcome as she saw who had arrived.
‘The Admiral’s in the wardroom,’ she assured me when I asked if he was at home, and she bustled along before me to give Charles the news.
He made no reference to the fact that it was the second time in three days that I had sought his sanctuary. He merely pointed to the gold brocade chair and poured brandy into a tumbler without asking.
I sat and drank and looked gratefully at the austerity and restraint of this thin man who’d commanded ships and was now my only anchor.
‘How’s the arm?’ he asked briefly, and I said lightly, ‘Sore.’
He nodded and waited.
‘Can I stay?’ I said.
‘Of course.’
After a longish pause, I said, ‘Do you know a man called Archibald Kirk?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘He says he talked to you on the telephone. It was months ago, I think. He’s a civil servant and a magistrate. He lives near Hungerford, and I’ve come here from his house. Can you remember? Way back. I think he may have been asking you about me. Like sort of checking up, like a reference. You probably told him that I play chess.’
He thought about it, searching for the memory.
‘I would always give you a good reference,’ he said. ‘Is there any reason why you’d prefer I didn’t?’
‘No, definitely not.’
‘I’ve been asked several times about your character and ability. I always say if they’re looking for an investigator they couldn’t do better.’
‘You’re… very kind.’
‘Kind, my foot. Why do you ask about this Archibald Church?’
‘Kirk.’
‘Kirk, then.’
I drank some brandy and said, ‘Do you remember that day you came with me to the Jockey Club? The day we got the head of the security section sacked?’
‘I could hardly forget it, could I?’
‘You didn’t tell Archie Kirk about it, did you?’
‘Of course not. I never talk about it. I gave you my word I wouldn’t.’
‘Someone has,’ I said morosely.
‘The Jockey Club didn’t actually swear an oath of silence.’
‘I know.’ I thought a bit and asked, ‘Do you know a barrister called Davis Tatum? He’s the head of chambers of the prosecuting counsel at Ellis’s trial.’
‘I know of him. Never met him.’
‘You’d like him. You’d like Archie, too.’ I paused, and went on, ‘They both know about that day at the Jockey Club.’
‘But, Sid… does it really matter? I mean, you did the Jockey Club a tremendous favor, getting rid of their villain.’
‘Davis Tatum and, I’m sure, Archie, have engaged me to find out who is moving behind the scenes to get the Quint trial quashed. And I’m not telling you that.’
He smiled. ‘Client confidentiality?’
‘Right. Well, Davis Tatum made a point of telling me that he knew all about the mandarins insisting I take off my shirt, and why. I think he and Archie are trying to reassure themselves that if they ask me to do something dangerous, I’ll do it.’
He gave me a long, slow look, his features still and expressionless.
Finally he said, ‘And will you?’
I sighed. ‘Probably.’
‘What sort of danger?’
‘I don’t think they know. But realistically, if someone has an overwhelming reason for preventing Ellis’s trial from ever starting, who is the person standing chiefly in the way?’
‘Sid!’
‘Yes. So they’re asking me to find out if anyone might be motivated enough to ensure my permanent removal from the scene. They want me to find out if and who and why.’
‘God, Sid.’
From a man who never blasphemed, those were strong words.
‘So…’ I sighed, ‘Davis Tatum gave me a name, Owen Yorkshire, and told me he owned a firm called Topline Foods. Now Topline Foods gave a sponsored lunch at Aintree on the day before the Grand National. Ellis Quint was guest of honor. Also among the guests was a man called Lord Tilepit, who is both on the board, of Topline Foods and the proprietor of The Pump, which has been busy mocking me for months.’
He sat as if frozen.
‘So,’ I said, ‘I’ll go and see what Owen Yorkshire and Lord Tilepit are up to, and if I don’t come back you can kick up a stink.’
When he’d organized his breath, he said, ‘Don’t do it, Sid.’
‘No… but if I don’t, Ellis will walk out laughing, and my standing in the world will be down the tubes forever, if you see what I mean.’
He saw.
After a while he said, ‘I do vaguely remember talking to this Archie fellow. He asked about your brains. He said he knew about your physical resilience. Odd choice of words — I remember them. I told him you played a wily game of chess. And it’s true, you do. But it was a long time ago. Before all this happened.’
I nodded. ‘He already knew a lot about me when he got his sister to phone at five-thirty in the morning to tell me she had a colt with his foot off.’
‘So that’s who he is? Mrs Bracken’s brother?’
‘Yeah.’ I drank brandy and said, ‘If you’re ever talking to Sir Thomas Ullaston, would you mind asking him — and don’t make a drama of it — if he told Archie Kirk or Davis Tatum about that morning in the Jockey Club?’
Sir Thomas Ullaston had been Senior Steward at the time, and had conducted the proceedings which led to the removal of the head of the security section who had arranged for Chico and me to be thoroughly deterred from investigating anything ever again. As far as I was concerned it was all past history, and I most emphatically wanted it to remain so.